 | Blanid |  |
51
THE DESPAIR OF CUHULLIN.
Up from the sapphire depths of space profound
Arose the laughing dawn, and all the skies
Brightened until, beneath, the flowery ground
Laughed in return, and the awakening flies
Outspread their jewelled wings with gladsome sound
To welcome her, while calls and joyous cries
Of wild things from the bosky dells and lays
Of birds in field and forest sang her praise.
Arose the laughing dawn, and all the skies
Brightened until, beneath, the flowery ground
Laughed in return, and the awakening flies
Outspread their jewelled wings with gladsome sound
To welcome her, while calls and joyous cries
Of wild things from the bosky dells and lays
Of birds in field and forest sang her praise.
52
And at her touch Cuhullin woke, though deep
He slept, forgetting all his joys and woes,
And in glad wonder saw the minstrel reap
The meed of toil in dreamless, calm repose
Beside him on the fragrant heather heap,
His hand upon the harp-frame, while a rose
Red as young Blanid's lips within it lay,
Sole trophy of the merry yesterday.
He slept, forgetting all his joys and woes,
And in glad wonder saw the minstrel reap
The meed of toil in dreamless, calm repose
Beside him on the fragrant heather heap,
His hand upon the harp-frame, while a rose
Red as young Blanid's lips within it lay,
Sole trophy of the merry yesterday.
He laughed unto himself with secret joy
To see his loved one's symbol lying there,
And stole from out the cave, and, to employ
The heavenly hour, across the meadow fair
Walked down to where the wild-birds, nothing coy
At the tall stranger's presence, filled the air
With tremulous music and the tumbling flood
Answered from green recesses of the wood.
To see his loved one's symbol lying there,
And stole from out the cave, and, to employ
The heavenly hour, across the meadow fair
Walked down to where the wild-birds, nothing coy
At the tall stranger's presence, filled the air
With tremulous music and the tumbling flood
Answered from green recesses of the wood.
53
Beside the stream he sat and mused awhile
Till the first sunbeam found the blossomed glade
Through the green leaves, and many a lover's wile
He formed to meet again the royal maid,
To clasp her hand, to bask him in her smile,
Till, with a look of gladness that betrayed
His heart's resolve, he turned him o'er the dew
Of the fresh mead and sought the cave anew.
Till the first sunbeam found the blossomed glade
Through the green leaves, and many a lover's wile
He formed to meet again the royal maid,
To clasp her hand, to bask him in her smile,
Till, with a look of gladness that betrayed
His heart's resolve, he turned him o'er the dew
Of the fresh mead and sought the cave anew.
At this same hour young Mora to the side
Of Blanid's couch came: “Up!” she said; “the day,
O mistress! laughs upon the waters wide
And lights the whispering woods! Up and away
Into our garden where the humming tide
From the cool fountain falls in diamond spray
Adown the mossy rocks, and where in glee
The blithe birds sing to welcome morn and thee!
Of Blanid's couch came: “Up!” she said; “the day,
O mistress! laughs upon the waters wide
And lights the whispering woods! Up and away
Into our garden where the humming tide
From the cool fountain falls in diamond spray
Adown the mossy rocks, and where in glee
The blithe birds sing to welcome morn and thee!
54
“And I will bring the lute that thou hast taught
My fingers to make mournful or unsad,
As each fresh mood within thy dear heart wrought
Its influence; and the merry hours we had
Last morn within the garden will seem naught
This day to thee, for now thy heart is glad
With yon tall hero's love, they say thy mind
Will run on thoughts e'en still more glad and kind!”
My fingers to make mournful or unsad,
As each fresh mood within thy dear heart wrought
Its influence; and the merry hours we had
Last morn within the garden will seem naught
This day to thee, for now thy heart is glad
With yon tall hero's love, they say thy mind
Will run on thoughts e'en still more glad and kind!”
Like a young rose touched by the gold of morn,
Blanid awoke, and, looking, laughed and said,—
“Small wonder since the day that thou wert born
Thou'rt called the Chatterer! Seems as thou wert bred
With daws and jays, all merry things that scorn
A silent hour; but hither thy bright head
Of nut-brown hair, that I may kiss thine eyes
And lips, and pay thee for thy morn's surprise!”
Blanid awoke, and, looking, laughed and said,—
“Small wonder since the day that thou wert born
Thou'rt called the Chatterer! Seems as thou wert bred
With daws and jays, all merry things that scorn
A silent hour; but hither thy bright head
Of nut-brown hair, that I may kiss thine eyes
And lips, and pay thee for thy morn's surprise!”
55
'Mid fern and foxglove by the woodland rill
The quick-eyed ousel prinks herself in pride
On the cool bank, when the voice sweet and shrill
Of her mate calls her,—with dark head aside
She looks this way and that, then runs until
She joins him in the sunshine,—so with glide
Of body and light foot across the room
Young Mora sought her lady's arms of bloom.
The quick-eyed ousel prinks herself in pride
On the cool bank, when the voice sweet and shrill
Of her mate calls her,—with dark head aside
She looks this way and that, then runs until
She joins him in the sunshine,—so with glide
Of body and light foot across the room
Young Mora sought her lady's arms of bloom.
And then, as Blanid kissed her, playfully
She broke from out the circling arms and cried,
Clapping her hands, “Ah not for me, for me
That last kiss was! for yester morningtide,
When thou didst kiss me 'neath the blossomed tree
Beside the well, thou strovest not to hide
Thy blushes from me! Ah! I wis, I wis
The robber of Barana owns that kiss!”
She broke from out the circling arms and cried,
Clapping her hands, “Ah not for me, for me
That last kiss was! for yester morningtide,
When thou didst kiss me 'neath the blossomed tree
Beside the well, thou strovest not to hide
Thy blushes from me! Ah! I wis, I wis
The robber of Barana owns that kiss!”
56
Deeper the Bright One's blush, though well she strove
To hide it, as the Chatterer cried again,—
“Oh! would that I were old enough to love
And know what love is and be loved by men!
I tell thee I would make my champion prove
His mettle among heroes; in the fen
Of Gurmal the Gray Serpent he should slay
With sword and spear before the bridal day!
To hide it, as the Chatterer cried again,—
“Oh! would that I were old enough to love
And know what love is and be loved by men!
I tell thee I would make my champion prove
His mettle among heroes; in the fen
Of Gurmal the Gray Serpent he should slay
With sword and spear before the bridal day!
“For I was taught by poets sweet and wise
Within my brother's hall what knights should be,
And mine should have a soul of high emprise,
And with brass keels should plough the stubborn sea
To foreign lands, where untold treasure lies
In dragon's dens, and he should bring to me
The dragon's claws as tokens, and full measure
Unto my house of all the priceless treasure!
Within my brother's hall what knights should be,
And mine should have a soul of high emprise,
And with brass keels should plough the stubborn sea
To foreign lands, where untold treasure lies
In dragon's dens, and he should bring to me
The dragon's claws as tokens, and full measure
Unto my house of all the priceless treasure!
57
“And he should have three hounds with golden chains
And bells all tinkling like the gay harp's thrills,
A war-steed from the far-off emerald plains
Of Muman, and a hawk from Norway's hills;—
The three sweet Berries of the Yew with stains
Of crimson on them, from Dunthirrè's rills,
He'd bring to me, with the bright Marigold
Three-headed from Birara's magic wold;—
And bells all tinkling like the gay harp's thrills,
A war-steed from the far-off emerald plains
Of Muman, and a hawk from Norway's hills;—
The three sweet Berries of the Yew with stains
Of crimson on them, from Dunthirrè's rills,
He'd bring to me, with the bright Marigold
Three-headed from Birara's magic wold;—
“And he—” Here like a posy of fresh pink
Blanid's fair hand upon her mouth was pressed,
To stay the flood of talk that o'er its brink
Was bubbling now so fast. “Unblest! unblest
The hapless man,” she cried, “foredoomed to drink
The bridal cup with thee, for naught of rest
He'll know till his last life-thread is unstrung,
While thou art near him with thy prattling tongue!
Blanid's fair hand upon her mouth was pressed,
To stay the flood of talk that o'er its brink
Was bubbling now so fast. “Unblest! unblest
The hapless man,” she cried, “foredoomed to drink
The bridal cup with thee, for naught of rest
He'll know till his last life-thread is unstrung,
While thou art near him with thy prattling tongue!
58
“And yet I love thee, child; and well I may,
Since thy strong sire, great lord of Beramere,
Gave his life for my father's in that fray
Waged with Tintagel's heroes, ere a year
Had crowned thy winsome head with ringlets gay;
And now thou knowest my heart, oh! still more dear
I love thee, thou sweet pearl! Then come, and bring
Thy lute with thee, that thou mayest play and sing.”
Since thy strong sire, great lord of Beramere,
Gave his life for my father's in that fray
Waged with Tintagel's heroes, ere a year
Had crowned thy winsome head with ringlets gay;
And now thou knowest my heart, oh! still more dear
I love thee, thou sweet pearl! Then come, and bring
Thy lute with thee, that thou mayest play and sing.”
Then forth they went, and through a wicket small
Of brazen tracery sought the garden fair,
Where through the luminous, whispering leaves did fall
Shafts of white sunlight upon blossoms rare
From every clime; and nigh the further wall
They sat them down upon a fresh bank, where
The placid fount, the garden's azure eye,
Returned the love-lit glances of the sky.
Of brazen tracery sought the garden fair,
Where through the luminous, whispering leaves did fall
Shafts of white sunlight upon blossoms rare
From every clime; and nigh the further wall
They sat them down upon a fresh bank, where
The placid fount, the garden's azure eye,
Returned the love-lit glances of the sky.
59
And Blanid said, “Sweet blossom of the May,
Sing me a song to cheer me.” Eager then
Brown Mora answered, “Shall I sing the Lay
Of Garmon, or the Lady and the Wren,
Or Starry Fingers, or the Twilight Fay,
Or that old mournful song beloved of men
And maids, The Knight forlorn slept in the Wood,
The Gold Branch, or White Mergal by the Flood,
Sing me a song to cheer me.” Eager then
Brown Mora answered, “Shall I sing the Lay
Of Garmon, or the Lady and the Wren,
Or Starry Fingers, or the Twilight Fay,
Or that old mournful song beloved of men
And maids, The Knight forlorn slept in the Wood,
The Gold Branch, or White Mergal by the Flood,
Or Mora and the Moon, that Tiernan sings,
Our minstrel, or The blooming Almond Tree,
The Mermaid and the Man, or Silver Wings—”
“Sing,” said fair Blanid laughing,—“Sing to me
The song that Tiernan made for thee,—that brings
Gladness whene'er 't is sung!” “O mistress! see,”
Cried Mora, “yon two doves upon their bough!
For them he made this song I sing thee now.”
Our minstrel, or The blooming Almond Tree,
The Mermaid and the Man, or Silver Wings—”
“Sing,” said fair Blanid laughing,—“Sing to me
The song that Tiernan made for thee,—that brings
Gladness whene'er 't is sung!” “O mistress! see,”
Cried Mora, “yon two doves upon their bough!
For them he made this song I sing thee now.”
60
“THE DOVES.
“My little blue doves were born,
Were born in the windy March,
Up in the tapering larch
That laughs in the light of morn:
O, so high o'er the meadow!
O, so high o'er the glen!
And they sit in the leafy shadow,
The joy and delight of men,
Cooing, with voices flowing
In melody soft and sweet,
Their necks with the rainbow glowing,
And the pink on their silver feet.
Were born in the windy March,
Up in the tapering larch
That laughs in the light of morn:
O, so high o'er the meadow!
O, so high o'er the glen!
And they sit in the leafy shadow,
The joy and delight of men,
Cooing, with voices flowing
In melody soft and sweet,
Their necks with the rainbow glowing,
And the pink on their silver feet.
“My little doves lived together,
Unweeting of woe and pain,
Through the days of the winds and rain
And the sunny and fragrant weather;
And the lark sang o'er them in heaven,
And the linnet from banks of flowers,
And the robin chanted at even,
And the thrush in the morning hours
Carolled to cheer their wooing,
And the blackbird merry and bold
Answered their cooing, cooing
Out from the windy wold.
Unweeting of woe and pain,
Through the days of the winds and rain
And the sunny and fragrant weather;
61
And the linnet from banks of flowers,
And the robin chanted at even,
And the thrush in the morning hours
Carolled to cheer their wooing,
And the blackbird merry and bold
Answered their cooing, cooing
Out from the windy wold.
“When the daisy its eye uncloses,
And the cowslip glistens with dew,
And the hyacinth pure and blue
And the lilies and pearl-bright roses
Prink themselves in the splendor
Of the delicate white-foot Dawn,
'Mid the flowers and the fragrance tender
My little dove's heart was thawn
With love by the cooing, cooing
Of the gentle mate at her side,
And they married in midst of their wooing,
My bridegroom and woodland bride!”
And the cowslip glistens with dew,
And the hyacinth pure and blue
And the lilies and pearl-bright roses
Prink themselves in the splendor
Of the delicate white-foot Dawn,
'Mid the flowers and the fragrance tender
My little dove's heart was thawn
With love by the cooing, cooing
Of the gentle mate at her side,
And they married in midst of their wooing,
My bridegroom and woodland bride!”
62
Now take the lute thyself, O mistress sweet,
And sing to me of love, and let me know
What love is, for 't is surely most unmeet
That I should sit in hall and see a glow
In young squires' eyes my morning presence greet,
Not knowing why. Sing! that I may bestow
Four kisses on thee,—two from me, and two
For one who worships well thine eyes of blue!”
And sing to me of love, and let me know
What love is, for 't is surely most unmeet
That I should sit in hall and see a glow
In young squires' eyes my morning presence greet,
Not knowing why. Sing! that I may bestow
Four kisses on thee,—two from me, and two
For one who worships well thine eyes of blue!”
And Blanid took the lute, and “Would that I
Could tell thee, child!” she said. “But since that noon
He saved me in the forest, the bright sky
Seems brighter, and all things I see a boon
Sent by the Gods who rule in heaven on high,
To give me gladness; but alas! too soon
My father's ire will end it; and to thee
I'll sing my thoughts of what the end may be:—
Could tell thee, child!” she said. “But since that noon
He saved me in the forest, the bright sky
Seems brighter, and all things I see a boon
Sent by the Gods who rule in heaven on high,
To give me gladness; but alas! too soon
My father's ire will end it; and to thee
I'll sing my thoughts of what the end may be:—
63
“WHAT IS THIS LOVE?
“What is this love,—this love that makes
My heart's warm pulses quiver?
They say it is the power that wakes
The hyacinth 'mid hazel brakes,
The lilies by the river,
And that same thing that bids the dove
Sit in the pine-tree high above,
Its sweetheart wooing;
But oh! alas! whate'er it be,
And howsoe'er it comes to me,
It comes for my undoing!
My heart's warm pulses quiver?
They say it is the power that wakes
The hyacinth 'mid hazel brakes,
The lilies by the river,
And that same thing that bids the dove
Sit in the pine-tree high above,
Its sweetheart wooing;
But oh! alas! whate'er it be,
And howsoe'er it comes to me,
It comes for my undoing!
“The lily of the river side
By its sweet mate reposes
Through autumn moons and winter-tide,
To wake in love and beauty's pride
When comes the time of roses,
And in the springing of the year
The doves' sweet voices you will hear
Their vows renewing;
But oh! alas! whate'er love be,
And howsoe'er it comes to me,
It comes for my undoing!
By its sweet mate reposes
Through autumn moons and winter-tide,
To wake in love and beauty's pride
When comes the time of roses,
64
The doves' sweet voices you will hear
Their vows renewing;
But oh! alas! whate'er love be,
And howsoe'er it comes to me,
It comes for my undoing!
“O child! I fear this love, for always pain
It mingles with its joy, I fear, I fear
I know not what while in my heart doth reign
This tyrant.—But the air is sultry here,
And I would see the foxglove's purple stain
And heather, and would smell the blossomed brere,
And love to pluck the forest flowers, and yearn
To trail my robe amidst the fragrant fern!”
It mingles with its joy, I fear, I fear
I know not what while in my heart doth reign
This tyrant.—But the air is sultry here,
And I would see the foxglove's purple stain
And heather, and would smell the blossomed brere,
And love to pluck the forest flowers, and yearn
To trail my robe amidst the fragrant fern!”
And forth they went, and left the garden bright
Through a small postern, and 't was joy to see
Their young hearts tasting of the dear delight
Of freedom in fresh woods; each branching tree
To them towered upward to a glorious height;
The zephyrs sang, the rill, the bird, the bee,
Sang in return, till all the flowery ground
Seemed pulsing to the sweet pervading sound.
Through a small postern, and 't was joy to see
Their young hearts tasting of the dear delight
Of freedom in fresh woods; each branching tree
65
The zephyrs sang, the rill, the bird, the bee,
Sang in return, till all the flowery ground
Seemed pulsing to the sweet pervading sound.
At length they heard the murmur of the river
Wherein the forest streamlets plunge and drown
Their merriment, and 'mid the stir and quiver
Of grasses and green leaves they sat them down
Upon a bank where thyme, the perfume-giver
To flocks and herds on hills and moorlands brown,
Grew thick with bronzed moss, heath, and lady'sdower,
Wild hyacinth and every woodland flower.
Wherein the forest streamlets plunge and drown
Their merriment, and 'mid the stir and quiver
Of grasses and green leaves they sat them down
Upon a bank where thyme, the perfume-giver
To flocks and herds on hills and moorlands brown,
Grew thick with bronzed moss, heath, and lady'sdower,
Wild hyacinth and every woodland flower.
And as they sat, their quickened senses steeping
In the new life and glory of the wood,
Young Mora through the blossomed thicket peeping
Saw a tall man anigh them, where the flood
Adown its pebbly bed went gaily leaping;—
A minstrel's cloak he wore, a minstrel's hood
Of seven fresh colors bright, and in his hand
He held a glittering harp that lit the strand.
In the new life and glory of the wood,
Young Mora through the blossomed thicket peeping
Saw a tall man anigh them, where the flood
66
A minstrel's cloak he wore, a minstrel's hood
Of seven fresh colors bright, and in his hand
He held a glittering harp that lit the strand.
Upon a stone he sat, and silently
Gazed on the crystal tide, while near him played
The river-birds unfrightened. “Hush! 't is he!”
Glad Mora cried, “the minstrel, all arrayed
For music as on yesterday! What glee!
To hear the fairy music that he made!
But hush! he stirs;—let's take what fortune brings!
He wakes the sounding wires! He sings, he sings!”
Gazed on the crystal tide, while near him played
The river-birds unfrightened. “Hush! 't is he!”
Glad Mora cried, “the minstrel, all arrayed
For music as on yesterday! What glee!
To hear the fairy music that he made!
But hush! he stirs;—let's take what fortune brings!
He wakes the sounding wires! He sings, he sings!”
SONG.
“O Wind of the west that bringest,
O'er wood and lea,
Perfume of flowers from my lady's bowers
And a strain and a melody,—
While soft 'mid the bloom thou singest
Thy songs of laughter and sighs,
Steal in where my darling lies
With a kiss to her mouth from me!
O'er wood and lea,
Perfume of flowers from my lady's bowers
And a strain and a melody,—
67
Thy songs of laughter and sighs,
Steal in where my darling lies
With a kiss to her mouth from me!
“White Rose, when at morn thou twinest
Her lattice fair,
Wave to and fro in the fresh sun's glow
Till she wakes and beholds thee there;—
When over her brow thou shinest,
Then whisper from me, and press
On her dear head one fond caress,
And a kiss on her yellow hair!
Her lattice fair,
Wave to and fro in the fresh sun's glow
Till she wakes and beholds thee there;—
When over her brow thou shinest,
Then whisper from me, and press
On her dear head one fond caress,
And a kiss on her yellow hair!
“O Rose! and O Wind that found her
'Mid morning's glee!
While the noon goes by, keep ever nigh
With your beauty and melody;—
With your smile and your song stay round her
Till she closes her eyelids bright;
Then give her a sweet Good-night
And a kiss on the lips from me!”
'Mid morning's glee!
While the noon goes by, keep ever nigh
With your beauty and melody;—
With your smile and your song stay round her
Till she closes her eyelids bright;
Then give her a sweet Good-night
And a kiss on the lips from me!”
68
The first note Blanid heard, her face grew wan,
Half-rose she, trembling, with dilated eyes,
Sat down again, and some sweet flowers that shone
Beside her she plucked up, and like a prize
Belovèd kissed them as the strain went on,
And laughed a little, till, like morning skies
Reddening with dainty rose, the blush that speaks
Of health and joy returned to her fair cheeks.
Half-rose she, trembling, with dilated eyes,
Sat down again, and some sweet flowers that shone
Beside her she plucked up, and like a prize
Belovèd kissed them as the strain went on,
And laughed a little, till, like morning skies
Reddening with dainty rose, the blush that speaks
Of health and joy returned to her fair cheeks.
Then laughed she unto Mora, “He is here!
No minstrel he, but my strong lover true!
Though Death with his pale hand should close mine ear,
His voice would pierce my fond heart and renew
Its throbbings, lying cold upon the bier,
The grave-clothes round me! Bring him here and strew
Some flowers upon this sunny bank to bless
Our wondrous meeting and our happiness!”
No minstrel he, but my strong lover true!
Though Death with his pale hand should close mine ear,
His voice would pierce my fond heart and renew
Its throbbings, lying cold upon the bier,
The grave-clothes round me! Bring him here and strew
Some flowers upon this sunny bank to bless
Our wondrous meeting and our happiness!”
69
And Mora plucked the bright fresh-smelling flowers
And strewed them on the bank, then out she ran
With loose hair through the intervening bowers
And down the slope, and, ere the bright-robed man
Knew where he sat, rained kisses sweet in showers
On both his cheeks, and “Come,” she said, “the ban
Of her great sire is on thee; but let me
In all these things thy kind protector be.”
And strewed them on the bank, then out she ran
With loose hair through the intervening bowers
And down the slope, and, ere the bright-robed man
Knew where he sat, rained kisses sweet in showers
On both his cheeks, and “Come,” she said, “the ban
Of her great sire is on thee; but let me
In all these things thy kind protector be.”
She took his hand in hers, and like a child
He followed her with joyful throbbing heart
Up the green slope, till through the copses wild
He reached the place, and saw new blushes start
Unto his loved one's fair cheek as she smiled
Like a full moon on him. With lips apart
And upraised hands she stood before him, fain
To clasp him to her happy breast again!
He followed her with joyful throbbing heart
Up the green slope, till through the copses wild
He reached the place, and saw new blushes start
Unto his loved one's fair cheek as she smiled
Like a full moon on him. With lips apart
And upraised hands she stood before him, fain
To clasp him to her happy breast again!
70
Then hand touched hand, and face met burning face,
And sweet words passed, as sweet words will forever
'Tween hearts that love, and 'mid that bloomy place
They sat them down, and in the wide world never
Sat such a pair; their looks, their smiles, gave grace
And beauty to the spot no thought could sever
From all things round, all things that laugh and live
In sunshine and the gladness sunbeams give!
And sweet words passed, as sweet words will forever
'Tween hearts that love, and 'mid that bloomy place
They sat them down, and in the wide world never
Sat such a pair; their looks, their smiles, gave grace
And beauty to the spot no thought could sever
From all things round, all things that laugh and live
In sunshine and the gladness sunbeams give!
Said Blanid, “Since the hour I saw thee first
Thou'rt in my heart!” Said he, “Since that glad hour,
My heart has yearned with love's insatiate thirst,
Burning for thee, and some immortal power
Impels me to thee through the best and worst
Of this my life!” Said she, “Black clouds may lower
Upon our love, but my love will remain
Unchanged through all,—through all life's joy and pain!”
Thou'rt in my heart!” Said he, “Since that glad hour,
My heart has yearned with love's insatiate thirst,
Burning for thee, and some immortal power
Impels me to thee through the best and worst
Of this my life!” Said she, “Black clouds may lower
Upon our love, but my love will remain
Unchanged through all,—through all life's joy and pain!”
71
He pressed his lips to hers and to his breast
Her throbbing breast, and said, “Through all I see
Of peril and of sorrow and unrest,
My love shall grow like yonder vigorous tree
That rears unto the sky its blossomed crest,
Gladdening the forest; so my love shall be,
Till, as a blast strikes low the proud tree's head,
Fate comes and counts me with the early dead!
Her throbbing breast, and said, “Through all I see
Of peril and of sorrow and unrest,
My love shall grow like yonder vigorous tree
That rears unto the sky its blossomed crest,
Gladdening the forest; so my love shall be,
Till, as a blast strikes low the proud tree's head,
Fate comes and counts me with the early dead!
“For know, belovèd one, my weird and doom!
When I was sixteen summers, Caffa old,
The King's seer, prophesied, and pierced the gloom
Of the veil 'tween us and the Gods, and told
That he who on the morrow would assume
Knighthood should be the pink and pearl and gold
Of chivalry, and that his fame should die
Only when earth died and the eternal sky.
When I was sixteen summers, Caffa old,
The King's seer, prophesied, and pierced the gloom
Of the veil 'tween us and the Gods, and told
That he who on the morrow would assume
Knighthood should be the pink and pearl and gold
Of chivalry, and that his fame should die
Only when earth died and the eternal sky.
72
“With wrapt eyes still he prophesied, and said,
‘His fame shall be a tree whose branches wide
Shall overspread the world, but he is wed
Unto a weird, that in the strength and pride
Of early manhood he shall fill the bed
Of death! who takes the weird?’ And I replied,
‘I take it!’ and a knight was made next day,
The short life and the glorious for my pay.
‘His fame shall be a tree whose branches wide
Shall overspread the world, but he is wed
Unto a weird, that in the strength and pride
Of early manhood he shall fill the bed
Of death! who takes the weird?’ And I replied,
‘I take it!’ and a knight was made next day,
The short life and the glorious for my pay.
“Therefore, O maid! my love shall bring thee sorrow!”
“Therefore,” she cried, “my love will bring thee bliss
Through thy short life, O valiant one! and borrow
Light from all things for thee, and what we miss
Of length of days what boots it, when a morrow
Will come at last when we shall fade like this,—
This little flower I hold within my hand,
That plucked or not, would die upon the strand?”
“Therefore,” she cried, “my love will bring thee bliss
Through thy short life, O valiant one! and borrow
Light from all things for thee, and what we miss
Of length of days what boots it, when a morrow
Will come at last when we shall fade like this,—
This little flower I hold within my hand,
That plucked or not, would die upon the strand?”
73
And thus they sat and vowed, till from the bank
Of the bright stream came Mora, lilting sweet
Her Dove Song, then long draughts of love they drank
Each from the other's eyes, for hours are fleet
When soul meets soul and time is ever blank;—
And Mora said, “I hear the hurrying feet
Of hunters in the wood and ye must part;—
Now let me see how heart beats unto heart!”
Of the bright stream came Mora, lilting sweet
Her Dove Song, then long draughts of love they drank
Each from the other's eyes, for hours are fleet
When soul meets soul and time is ever blank;—
And Mora said, “I hear the hurrying feet
Of hunters in the wood and ye must part;—
Now let me see how heart beats unto heart!”
Upstood they trembling with their love, and he
Opening his arms, unto his breast she flew,
Her fond arms round his neck, and mournfully
She kissed him till he felt the love-born dew
Of her tears on his cheeks. “I see! I see!”
Cried Mora now, “how true heart beats to true!
Away, before the hunters find the trace,
But come and meet next morn in this bright place!”
Opening his arms, unto his breast she flew,
Her fond arms round his neck, and mournfully
She kissed him till he felt the love-born dew
Of her tears on his cheeks. “I see! I see!”
Cried Mora now, “how true heart beats to true!
Away, before the hunters find the trace,
But come and meet next morn in this bright place!”
74
Six times they met. On the sixth morn she said,
“Where is thy war-gear, O brave love of mine?
For I would see thy bright helm on thy head,
Thy battle harness with its bosses shine
Of gold and brass, thy shield with Branches Red
Graven upon it!”—“Where the salty brine
Rolls up the river mouth,” he said, “they lie
Within my broad-sailed galley for thine eye.
“Where is thy war-gear, O brave love of mine?
For I would see thy bright helm on thy head,
Thy battle harness with its bosses shine
Of gold and brass, thy shield with Branches Red
Graven upon it!”—“Where the salty brine
Rolls up the river mouth,” he said, “they lie
Within my broad-sailed galley for thine eye.
“Then come with me, O love, and in my hall
Of strong Dun Dalgan thou a queen shalt reign,
And mistress of my fond heart, over all
The ladies of the land, while I attain
All things for love and thee, before my fall
In the great fight upon the fated plain,—
Before I die and laugh no more with thee!”
“Ah! no, no, no!” she cried, “it cannot be!
Of strong Dun Dalgan thou a queen shalt reign,
And mistress of my fond heart, over all
The ladies of the land, while I attain
All things for love and thee, before my fall
In the great fight upon the fated plain,—
Before I die and laugh no more with thee!”
“Ah! no, no, no!” she cried, “it cannot be!
75
“What wouldst thou think of me in years to come
If I should list to thee, if I should yield,
When underneath the earth my sire was dumb
And could not speak his wrath with spear and shield,
When thou wouldst say, ‘She left her happy home,
Her hard heart like a frozen fountain sealed
'Gainst her gray sire! Can she be true to me?’
Ah! no, no, no! Alas! it cannot be!”
If I should list to thee, if I should yield,
When underneath the earth my sire was dumb
And could not speak his wrath with spear and shield,
When thou wouldst say, ‘She left her happy home,
Her hard heart like a frozen fountain sealed
'Gainst her gray sire! Can she be true to me?’
Ah! no, no, no! Alas! it cannot be!”
They parted, and upon the seventh bright morn,
As he rode upward through the forest wild,
A small black cloud within the east was born
Beneath the sun, and oft looked down and smiled
With serpent face on fields of tender corn
And leaf and flower of woodland calm and mild,
And lake and stream, as though it whispered, “I
Will soon devour all things beneath the sky!”
As he rode upward through the forest wild,
A small black cloud within the east was born
Beneath the sun, and oft looked down and smiled
With serpent face on fields of tender corn
And leaf and flower of woodland calm and mild,
And lake and stream, as though it whispered, “I
Will soon devour all things beneath the sky!”
76
And as he rode, the cloud clomb up the east
On the sun's track and swallowed it; around,
From copse and brake the birds their carols ceased
In terror, and the multitudinous sound
Of the wood's life grew still; the bristled beast
'Gainst the rough oak his tusks in anger ground,
The trout sank in the stream, the rabbit fled,
And the brown otter sought his caverned bed.
On the sun's track and swallowed it; around,
From copse and brake the birds their carols ceased
In terror, and the multitudinous sound
Of the wood's life grew still; the bristled beast
'Gainst the rough oak his tusks in anger ground,
The trout sank in the stream, the rabbit fled,
And the brown otter sought his caverned bed.
As he went through the valley of the Mead
And Waterfall and Tree, east, south and west
And the grim north were black: but little heed
He took of all the gloom, as on he pressed,
With high heart, clothed in his battle weed,
To meet his love, his spear in hand, his crest
Brightening the gloom, as on he rode like Nied,
The God of War, along that river side.
And Waterfall and Tree, east, south and west
And the grim north were black: but little heed
He took of all the gloom, as on he pressed,
With high heart, clothed in his battle weed,
To meet his love, his spear in hand, his crest
Brightening the gloom, as on he rode like Nied,
The God of War, along that river side.
77
And as he came unto the trysting-place
To find his love, and found no love was there,
His battle-steed, Lia Macha, raised her face
And neighed three times, 'till through the murky air
The Gods sent lightning from the dreadful space
'Tween the cloud's serpent jaws, and in the glare
He saw the wood surrounded, and the sheen
Of threatening swords the mossy trunks between!
To find his love, and found no love was there,
His battle-steed, Lia Macha, raised her face
And neighed three times, 'till through the murky air
The Gods sent lightning from the dreadful space
'Tween the cloud's serpent jaws, and in the glare
He saw the wood surrounded, and the sheen
Of threatening swords the mossy trunks between!
And as he moved the great shield from his back
And poised it on his arm, Lia Macha smote
The ground with earthquake hoof, and still more black
The gloom became, and from the sulphurous throat
Of the grim cloud burst thunder like the wrack
Of worlds in their destruction, and a moat
The glade seemed in a moment, from the flood
Of rain dashed down from heaven upon the wood!
And poised it on his arm, Lia Macha smote
The ground with earthquake hoof, and still more black
The gloom became, and from the sulphurous throat
Of the grim cloud burst thunder like the wrack
Of worlds in their destruction, and a moat
The glade seemed in a moment, from the flood
Of rain dashed down from heaven upon the wood!
78
Then spake he to Lia Macha:“Thou divine,
Bright searcher of the souls of heroes, thou
Who, on the first morn the sharp sword did shine
Of Knighthood in my hand, didst raise thy brow
And neigh portentous till the deafening sign
All Eman shook, as earth and heaven shakes now
At thy dread voice, comrade of my last fray,
Ah! bear me well, ah! bear me well to-day!”
Bright searcher of the souls of heroes, thou
Who, on the first morn the sharp sword did shine
Of Knighthood in my hand, didst raise thy brow
And neigh portentous till the deafening sign
All Eman shook, as earth and heaven shakes now
At thy dread voice, comrade of my last fray,
Ah! bear me well, ah! bear me well to-day!”
Then raised he high his spear and in the gleam
Of the pale lightning shook it, till its stave
Trembled, as a young willow by the stream
Amidst the fairy whirlwind, and he gave
The rein to the fleet steed who, like a beam
Piercing the dreadful darkness, onward drave
Against the foeman's thickest ranks that came
With a fierce shout upon him swift as flame!
Of the pale lightning shook it, till its stave
Trembled, as a young willow by the stream
Amidst the fairy whirlwind, and he gave
The rein to the fleet steed who, like a beam
Piercing the dreadful darkness, onward drave
Against the foeman's thickest ranks that came
With a fierce shout upon him swift as flame!
79
And round him and Lia Macha flickering played
The lightning, till to every foeman's eye
He seemed a wild bright thing from heaven arrayed
Bursting upon them, and his battle-cry
Smote them as smote the thunder, till afraid
They cowered before him, as he swept anigh
With levelled spear, and through them rushing went
As a fierce bull drives through the mountain bent!
The lightning, till to every foeman's eye
He seemed a wild bright thing from heaven arrayed
Bursting upon them, and his battle-cry
Smote them as smote the thunder, till afraid
They cowered before him, as he swept anigh
With levelled spear, and through them rushing went
As a fierce bull drives through the mountain bent!
Then rose a wind around him and between
His foes and him, upon the echoing shore,
And grew in strength and scourged the copses green
With wallowing sound like a huge lion's roar
In haunted forests where no foot has been,
And blew around in circles and uptore
Tall trees from their strong footholds, stem and spray,
Shaking them as a wild beast shakes his prey!
His foes and him, upon the echoing shore,
And grew in strength and scourged the copses green
With wallowing sound like a huge lion's roar
In haunted forests where no foot has been,
And blew around in circles and uptore
Tall trees from their strong footholds, stem and spray,
Shaking them as a wild beast shakes his prey!
80
No more the ambush followed; yet the storm
With tenfold fury raged, as on he flew
Through hollows with the murderous lightnings warm,
Through swollen and boiling torrents that upthrew
Their treacherous waves round bright Lia Macha's form
To clasp her, unavailing, till he drew
Nigh to the valley of the Mead and Tree,
And then the storm passed on and smote the sea.
With tenfold fury raged, as on he flew
Through hollows with the murderous lightnings warm,
Through swollen and boiling torrents that upthrew
Their treacherous waves round bright Lia Macha's form
To clasp her, unavailing, till he drew
Nigh to the valley of the Mead and Tree,
And then the storm passed on and smote the sea.
And the sun shone, and all the forest leaves
Seemed hung with trembling glories glittering,
The blithe red-breasted bird his song that weaves
Upon the hawthorn bush began to sing,
And thrushes spoke, and the lone wight that grieves
At dark gave forth a strain, and many a wing
Of wood-doves struck the air, and blossoms sweet
Laughed in the sunlight round Lia Macha's feet.
Seemed hung with trembling glories glittering,
The blithe red-breasted bird his song that weaves
Upon the hawthorn bush began to sing,
And thrushes spoke, and the lone wight that grieves
At dark gave forth a strain, and many a wing
Of wood-doves struck the air, and blossoms sweet
Laughed in the sunlight round Lia Macha's feet.
81
And now from the strong charger he alit,
And stroked her 'tween the ears, and led her down
The mead, to where the brightest spot was smit
By sunbeams till it glittered like a crown
With jewelled blossoms; then the golden bit
He loosed and set her free, and with a frown
Turned upward to the torrent's ridge of stone
To think upon his misery alone.
And stroked her 'tween the ears, and led her down
The mead, to where the brightest spot was smit
By sunbeams till it glittered like a crown
With jewelled blossoms; then the golden bit
He loosed and set her free, and with a frown
Turned upward to the torrent's ridge of stone
To think upon his misery alone.
He sat upon the rocky ledge, while loud
The river down its passage raged and roared
That erstwhile sang, and o'er him from a cloud
The forest eagle screamed as high it soared
With voice of bitter anger, and a shroud
The grass looked on the meadow, and there poured
Out from his laden heart without relief
This stammering to himself of deadly grief:—
The river down its passage raged and roared
That erstwhile sang, and o'er him from a cloud
The forest eagle screamed as high it soared
With voice of bitter anger, and a shroud
The grass looked on the meadow, and there poured
Out from his laden heart without relief
This stammering to himself of deadly grief:—
82
“Earth, air, and sun, and moon and star,
Of man's strange soul but mirrors are,
Bright when the soul is bright, and dark
As now, without one saving spark,
While the black tides of sorrow flow,
And I am suffering and I know!
Of man's strange soul but mirrors are,
Bright when the soul is bright, and dark
As now, without one saving spark,
While the black tides of sorrow flow,
And I am suffering and I know!
“To my sad eyes that sorrow dims
The greenest grass the swallow skims,
The flowers that once were fair to me,
The meadow and the blooming tree,
Dark as funereal garments grow,
And I am suffering, and I know!”
The greenest grass the swallow skims,
The flowers that once were fair to me,
The meadow and the blooming tree,
Dark as funereal garments grow,
And I am suffering, and I know!”
Then stood he up, and, striding to and fro,
He muttered, “Is she false? Has she betrayed
My presence to her sire? Ah! no, no, no!
It cannot be! Her father's spies have played
Their part within the wood; and days shall grow
To weary moons, and moons in years shall fade,
Ere I behold her dear face, now she's gone,
And lost to me for aye!” And he went on:—
He muttered, “Is she false? Has she betrayed
My presence to her sire? Ah! no, no, no!
It cannot be! Her father's spies have played
Their part within the wood; and days shall grow
To weary moons, and moons in years shall fade,
Ere I behold her dear face, now she's gone,
And lost to me for aye!” And he went on:—
83
“The measured sounds of dancing feet,
The songs of wood-birds wild and sweet,
The music of the horn and flute,
Of the gold strings of harp and lute,
Unheeded all shall come and go,
For I am suffering, and I know!
The songs of wood-birds wild and sweet,
The music of the horn and flute,
Of the gold strings of harp and lute,
Unheeded all shall come and go,
For I am suffering, and I know!
“No kindly counsel of a friend
With soothing balm the hurt can mend.
I walk alone in grief, and make
My bitter moan for her dear sake,
For loss of love is man's worst woe,
And I am suffering, and I know!
With soothing balm the hurt can mend.
I walk alone in grief, and make
My bitter moan for her dear sake,
For loss of love is man's worst woe,
And I am suffering, and I know!
“Misery, companion dread,
Thou art partner of my bed.
Soul to soul will you and I
Ever on the same couch lie,
While life's bitter waters flow,
And I am suffering, and I know!”
Thou art partner of my bed.
Soul to soul will you and I
Ever on the same couch lie,
While life's bitter waters flow,
And I am suffering, and I know!”
84
Then cried he, “Shall I suffer till the hour
When through the fated wound my soul shall fly?
Can battlemented walls, or fosse or tower,
Or king or vassal, shut her from mine eye?
No! By my hand of valor! if there's power
In sword and spear I'll win her ere I die!
Nor time, nor tide, nor intervening sea,
Nor bitter wave, shall be a bar to me!”
When through the fated wound my soul shall fly?
Can battlemented walls, or fosse or tower,
Or king or vassal, shut her from mine eye?
No! By my hand of valor! if there's power
In sword and spear I'll win her ere I die!
Nor time, nor tide, nor intervening sea,
Nor bitter wave, shall be a bar to me!”
And now he called Lia Macha and bestrode
Her bright back with its gay caparison.
And through the glen and rain-wet forest rode
In sorrow, till the river-mouth he won,
Where lay his long-hulled galley, and where glowed
The minstrel's robe th' embattled poop upon,
As he sat waiting with his harp, again
To greet the hero's ears with some blithe strain.
Her bright back with its gay caparison.
And through the glen and rain-wet forest rode
In sorrow, till the river-mouth he won,
Where lay his long-hulled galley, and where glowed
The minstrel's robe th' embattled poop upon,
As he sat waiting with his harp, again
To greet the hero's ears with some blithe strain.
85
And when the slant sun lit the waters wide,
Lia Macha stood within her brazen stall
Upon the galley's deck, and by her side
Barana whinnied like the gladsome call
Of friend to friend; and favoring wind and tide
Now turning to the west, the rocky wall
Of Mana's cliffs they left, and through the spray
For sad Cuhullin's home they ploughed their way.
Lia Macha stood within her brazen stall
Upon the galley's deck, and by her side
Barana whinnied like the gladsome call
Of friend to friend; and favoring wind and tide
Now turning to the west, the rocky wall
Of Mana's cliffs they left, and through the spray
For sad Cuhullin's home they ploughed their way.
And as the hero sat with gloomy look
Gazing upon the land where mourned his love,
Ferkertnè without weeping scarce could brook
His bitter woe, and with sweet language strove
To soothe him, but such sorrow ne'er forsook
Its prey for kindly pleadings. Of the grove
In Mana and his heart's lost love and pride
He only thought, and smote his breast and cried:—
Gazing upon the land where mourned his love,
Ferkertnè without weeping scarce could brook
His bitter woe, and with sweet language strove
To soothe him, but such sorrow ne'er forsook
Its prey for kindly pleadings. Of the grove
In Mana and his heart's lost love and pride
He only thought, and smote his breast and cried:—
86
“Can I think with a heart elate
Of the looks and the smiles that won me,
While the dreadful finger of fate
With its touch of iron is on me?—
When I sleep in my grave alone
Where the terror of darkness lies,
The joy of her voice's tone,
The glance of her love-lit eyes,
Will pierce through the earth above me, and bid me arise! arise!
Of the looks and the smiles that won me,
While the dreadful finger of fate
With its touch of iron is on me?—
When I sleep in my grave alone
Where the terror of darkness lies,
The joy of her voice's tone,
The glance of her love-lit eyes,
Will pierce through the earth above me, and bid me arise! arise!
“For the pitiless bitter wave
Of mine early doom must devour me,—
But the laurels that deck the grave
Of the valiant dead will embower me;
And perchance in the years to come,
In the fondness of tears and sighs,
She may lean o'er my lonely tomb,—
Then up to her sobs and cries,
Through the earth and the tangled grasses, my wakened soul will arise!”
Of mine early doom must devour me,—
But the laurels that deck the grave
Of the valiant dead will embower me;
And perchance in the years to come,
In the fondness of tears and sighs,
She may lean o'er my lonely tomb,—
Then up to her sobs and cries,
Through the earth and the tangled grasses, my wakened soul will arise!”
87
Then thought flew after thought on pinions fleet
Through his wild brain, and as they darker grew,
Despair, the obscene bird with taloned feet,
Tore at his heart, and every breath he drew
Seemed fire, until he thought how heroes meet
And fall, and then he saw the ghastly dew
Of death on him, and the black battle-crow
Perched on him on the red field lying low.
Through his wild brain, and as they darker grew,
Despair, the obscene bird with taloned feet,
Tore at his heart, and every breath he drew
Seemed fire, until he thought how heroes meet
And fall, and then he saw the ghastly dew
Of death on him, and the black battle-crow
Perched on him on the red field lying low.
Then smote he at his breast again, and cried,—
“Is this the end of all? Alas! will she,
My love! my love! no more be at my side
In the strange land with Gods where I shall be,—
With Gods and heroes in the angry pride
Of a forlorn heart? Alas! with me
Will she abide again? Perchance she may
Walk by my side through the eternal day!”
“Is this the end of all? Alas! will she,
My love! my love! no more be at my side
In the strange land with Gods where I shall be,—
With Gods and heroes in the angry pride
Of a forlorn heart? Alas! with me
Will she abide again? Perchance she may
Walk by my side through the eternal day!”
88
Now went he where the minstrel sat, and took
The harp from him, and with in-gazing eye
Drew his hand o'er the golden strings, and strook
A strain, and, as when 'mid the mountains high
An eagle questing o'er the roaring brook
Feels through his breast the archer's arrow fly,
With dreadful voice he cries his cry of pain,
Darkening the wet gray sands with bloody stain;—
The harp from him, and with in-gazing eye
Drew his hand o'er the golden strings, and strook
A strain, and, as when 'mid the mountains high
An eagle questing o'er the roaring brook
Feels through his breast the archer's arrow fly,
With dreadful voice he cries his cry of pain,
Darkening the wet gray sands with bloody stain;—
So rose the hero's wild and fierce lament,
And the brown sailors heard it, and strong fear
Fell on them, till the minstrel sighing went
And took his hand in his, and said, “The bier
Holds not thy loved one yet; and discontent,
And grief, and the despair that hath no tear,
And hath no action, ne'er can win thee back
Thy love across the field that knows no track.
And the brown sailors heard it, and strong fear
Fell on them, till the minstrel sighing went
And took his hand in his, and said, “The bier
Holds not thy loved one yet; and discontent,
And grief, and the despair that hath no tear,
And hath no action, ne'er can win thee back
Thy love across the field that knows no track.
89
“Sit by me here upon the poop, and list
To this my tale of one whom, like thee now,
Misfortune, the dread hag, had wooed and kissed
And lured unto her bed, but whose bright brow
Sunlike arose from the foul vampire's mist,
As thine will yet, when, like my hero, thou,
Not by weak grief, but deeds of valor bold,
Shalt win thy love!” And thus his tale he told:—
To this my tale of one whom, like thee now,
Misfortune, the dread hag, had wooed and kissed
And lured unto her bed, but whose bright brow
Sunlike arose from the foul vampire's mist,
As thine will yet, when, like my hero, thou,
Not by weak grief, but deeds of valor bold,
Shalt win thy love!” And thus his tale he told:—
THE WINNING OF AMARAC.
To each man's heart a kingdom fair is given:
Mine is girt round by lakes and silver seas
And green sky-piercing mountains thunder-riven,
With forests at their foot and flowery leas;
And I can make that kingdom hell or heaven
As the fierce winds of passion burn and freeze,
Or the soft airs of reason waft life's hours
On silent wings of peace through sun and showers.
Mine is girt round by lakes and silver seas
And green sky-piercing mountains thunder-riven,
With forests at their foot and flowery leas;
And I can make that kingdom hell or heaven
As the fierce winds of passion burn and freeze,
Or the soft airs of reason waft life's hours
On silent wings of peace through sun and showers.
90
Within my kingdom all things are that seem
Before the Poet's eye: there sunny lands
Outspread in glory where bright castles gleam
From hill-tops, and beside the golden sands
Of fairy lake, or sea, or singing stream,
Rise palaces wherein the snowy hands
Of ladies ever young and fair as May
Weave garlands for the knights who pass the way.
Before the Poet's eye: there sunny lands
Outspread in glory where bright castles gleam
From hill-tops, and beside the golden sands
Of fairy lake, or sea, or singing stream,
Rise palaces wherein the snowy hands
Of ladies ever young and fair as May
Weave garlands for the knights who pass the way.
And there spread fastnesses of rock and wood
Wherein the tawny lions ramp and roar,
And the great bear stalks by the sounding flood,
And wild deer graze the moorlands, and the boar
And wolf and fox, as nature made their mood,
Come forth and show themselves, and forests hoar
Teem with bright birds and insects, and all things
Of Fairy haunt the brooks and bubbling springs.
Wherein the tawny lions ramp and roar,
And the great bear stalks by the sounding flood,
And wild deer graze the moorlands, and the boar
And wolf and fox, as nature made their mood,
Come forth and show themselves, and forests hoar
Teem with bright birds and insects, and all things
Of Fairy haunt the brooks and bubbling springs.
91
And oft I see these fairy beings pass
Before mine eyes, and oft they sing to me
Sweet songs, as dancing o'er the fragrant grass,
Flower-garlanded, in royal pageantry
They crowd some forest meadow, but, alas!
Howe'er by wood or stream I hear or see
These people of the Sid, in heart and brain
Only some echoes of their songs remain.
Before mine eyes, and oft they sing to me
Sweet songs, as dancing o'er the fragrant grass,
Flower-garlanded, in royal pageantry
They crowd some forest meadow, but, alas!
Howe'er by wood or stream I hear or see
These people of the Sid, in heart and brain
Only some echoes of their songs remain.
I walked alone within my kingdom fair
And heard them singing from the branchy side
Of a wild wood, till the still evening air
Pulsed with their music, and the silver tide
Of a young mountain stream that wimpled there
Forgot its murmuring, and the carols died
Of birds beside the lake, that, listening
As I did, heard the Spirit People sing:—
And heard them singing from the branchy side
Of a wild wood, till the still evening air
Pulsed with their music, and the silver tide
Of a young mountain stream that wimpled there
Forgot its murmuring, and the carols died
Of birds beside the lake, that, listening
As I did, heard the Spirit People sing:—
92
“O where could we, Spirits, sport in a hollow
Of vernal beauty so sweet as this,
Where two streams, meeting, in laughter kiss
And sing towards the lake, till the light winds follow,
Entranced with their music, through sun and shade,
Where flies in the first of the spring the swallow
To his flower that waits in the windy glade?
Of vernal beauty so sweet as this,
Where two streams, meeting, in laughter kiss
And sing towards the lake, till the light winds follow,
Entranced with their music, through sun and shade,
Where flies in the first of the spring the swallow
To his flower that waits in the windy glade?
“Here the doves in the tall green pines are cooing,
Here the linnet sings from the gorse's gold,
And the lark soars high o'er the morning wold,
And the cuckoo comes at the year's renewing,
Calling from heaven, ‘Awake! awake!
O flowers and grass, to the South-wind's wooing
And the soft rain's kisses by stream and lake!’
Here the linnet sings from the gorse's gold,
And the lark soars high o'er the morning wold,
And the cuckoo comes at the year's renewing,
Calling from heaven, ‘Awake! awake!
O flowers and grass, to the South-wind's wooing
And the soft rain's kisses by stream and lake!’
“Here springs our well of the sacred water,
Here droops o'er its crystal the Rowan-Tree
With its berries red as the red lips be
Of the bright-haired Amarac, Fiernè's daughter,
Who sits 'neath its shadow and calls and cries,
‘From the stricken plain, from the ridge of slaughter,
Can my love come back? Can the dead arise?’”
Here droops o'er its crystal the Rowan-Tree
With its berries red as the red lips be
Of the bright-haired Amarac, Fiernè's daughter,
Who sits 'neath its shadow and calls and cries,
‘From the stricken plain, from the ridge of slaughter,
Can my love come back? Can the dead arise?’”
93
Her love:—alas! she loved a mortal knight
Who from the south and strong Tintagel came,
Singing upon his harp the deeds of might
Wrought by his hand, and ever seeking fame
With valiant heart in tourney and in fight;
And ladies' smiles and warriors' loud acclaim
Met him where'er he went, till one still morn
He woke from sleep 'neath Fiernè's elfin thorn.
Who from the south and strong Tintagel came,
Singing upon his harp the deeds of might
Wrought by his hand, and ever seeking fame
With valiant heart in tourney and in fight;
And ladies' smiles and warriors' loud acclaim
Met him where'er he went, till one still morn
He woke from sleep 'neath Fiernè's elfin thorn.
He woke, and looking through the silver mist
In which the young dawn wraps itself enwoven
With films of gold, saw o'er him sunrise-kissed
Tall pinnacles of rock, and, earthquake-cloven,
A gorge beneath, a lake of amethyst
In the reflected light, with rocks uphoven
Like towers around its brink, save where the dawn
Faced it, and there outspread a grassy lawn.
In which the young dawn wraps itself enwoven
With films of gold, saw o'er him sunrise-kissed
Tall pinnacles of rock, and, earthquake-cloven,
A gorge beneath, a lake of amethyst
In the reflected light, with rocks uphoven
Like towers around its brink, save where the dawn
Faced it, and there outspread a grassy lawn.
94
And on that lawn, where the sweet waters speed
Out from the lake, he saw the snowy kine
Of Amarac upon the blossoms feed
In silence, and beheld the Maid divine
Standing beside the stream in golden weed,
Watching the first red beams of morn to shine
Upon her white-backed herd, when she and they
Would fade in mist from mortal sight away!
Out from the lake, he saw the snowy kine
Of Amarac upon the blossoms feed
In silence, and beheld the Maid divine
Standing beside the stream in golden weed,
Watching the first red beams of morn to shine
Upon her white-backed herd, when she and they
Would fade in mist from mortal sight away!
He looked and loved; she looked and loved him, too;
But as he rose up from his grassy bed
To clasp her to his burning heart, she knew
Her father's weird was on her, and she fled
With her white herd into the lake that, blue
Like molten sapphire, in a moment spread
O'er them, with mystic echoes sweetly ringing
Round the calm shores! But hark the Spirits' singing!—
But as he rose up from his grassy bed
To clasp her to his burning heart, she knew
Her father's weird was on her, and she fled
With her white herd into the lake that, blue
Like molten sapphire, in a moment spread
O'er them, with mystic echoes sweetly ringing
Round the calm shores! But hark the Spirits' singing!—
95
“To the ends of the earth
Did the noble knight wander,
And the sounds of his mirth
Were the battle-field's thunder,
As he laughed like the Morn in her stormy attire;
And his foemen were scattered as straw in his ire,
And he trod on their necks
And he clove them asunder
And consumed them with fire!
Did the noble knight wander,
And the sounds of his mirth
Were the battle-field's thunder,
As he laughed like the Morn in her stormy attire;
And his foemen were scattered as straw in his ire,
And he trod on their necks
And he clove them asunder
And consumed them with fire!
“But we followed him far
As his fierce passion bore him,
His moon and his star
That one image before him;
And in safety he looked upon war's brazen gleam,
In safety he slumbered by meadow and stream,
For we moved by his side,
And our wings fluttered o'er him,
And we calmed him in dream!
As his fierce passion bore him,
His moon and his star
That one image before him;
And in safety he looked upon war's brazen gleam,
In safety he slumbered by meadow and stream,
For we moved by his side,
And our wings fluttered o'er him,
And we calmed him in dream!
“Then we placed in his breast
The black Pearl of Sorrow,
And his passion's unrest
Died away on the morrow,
And we soon lured him back to her mountains, to slake
His thirst in our well and her calm crystal lake,
And to talk with his soul
That its darkness might borrow
Some light for her sake!”
The black Pearl of Sorrow,
And his passion's unrest
Died away on the morrow,
96
His thirst in our well and her calm crystal lake,
And to talk with his soul
That its darkness might borrow
Some light for her sake!”
Once more he slept, once more he woke, and then
Rose from his grassy couch, and 'neath a tree
That drooped its branching glories by the glen,
Hid himself till the dawn rose and the lea
Showed its sward prankt with fresh flowers, and again
Out from the depths of that small crystal sea
The snowy-backed and pink-eared cattle came
With Amarac ere rose the morn's full flame.
Rose from his grassy couch, and 'neath a tree
That drooped its branching glories by the glen,
Hid himself till the dawn rose and the lea
Showed its sward prankt with fresh flowers, and again
Out from the depths of that small crystal sea
The snowy-backed and pink-eared cattle came
With Amarac ere rose the morn's full flame.
He stept from his concealment, and besought
Her love in burning words that brought the tears
To her compassionate eyes, and gently wrought
Within her heart strange yearnings and quick fears;
But soon her memory stung her, and distraught
With sorrow for his mournfulness, she nears
The margent of the lake, and with her kine
Under its waters hides her head divine.
Her love in burning words that brought the tears
To her compassionate eyes, and gently wrought
Within her heart strange yearnings and quick fears;
97
With sorrow for his mournfulness, she nears
The margent of the lake, and with her kine
Under its waters hides her head divine.
He dropt upon the grass, as one whom dead
A lance-but strikes in battle, and he lay
'Neath the tree's shadow on the moist cold bed
Of grass and flowers, until the glorious day
Reached the blue lake from the bright mountain head;
Then sprang he on his steed, and went his way
Through the wide world redressing sin and wrong
With harp and sword. But hark the Spirits' song!—
A lance-but strikes in battle, and he lay
'Neath the tree's shadow on the moist cold bed
Of grass and flowers, until the glorious day
Reached the blue lake from the bright mountain head;
Then sprang he on his steed, and went his way
Through the wide world redressing sin and wrong
With harp and sword. But hark the Spirits' song!—
“Where the vapors thicken
Through the city's ways,
And the people sicken
In the poisoned blaze
98
There beside the failing lamp
Of the lowly and the stricken
He hath stood to cheer and quicken
With his harp life's dying rays!
SECOND SPIRIT.
“Where tyrants darkened the light
In the hearts of mankind
With the tortures of famine and blight
And the shackles that bind,
There his broad pennon streamed to the wind
And the weak ones arose and followed,
And the strength of the tyrants melted away,
Like the blood-red eve of a stormy day,
In the jaws of the battle swallowed!
FIRST SPIRIT.
“He turned in a waking dream
From the home of the rising morn,
Lured by her deep eyes' gleam
To the land where his love was born;
99
No cloud from his soul depart,
Till the gold-bright Pearl of Hope
We placed o'er his loving heart.
Then his harp-strings rang by the river
And his voice upswelled by the shore,
Till the leaves o'er his long plume quiver
By the stream and the lake once more.”
Again he watched and waited: by his side
He held his gold-stringed harp, and stooping stood
'Neath the embowering leaves that near the tide
Drooped and concealed him, till the many-hued
Young Dawn arose, and ere the rabbit spied
Her favorite bloom-beds, and the callow brood
Of the wild duck awoke, upon the mead
Came Amarac her snowy kine to feed.
He held his gold-stringed harp, and stooping stood
'Neath the embowering leaves that near the tide
Drooped and concealed him, till the many-hued
Young Dawn arose, and ere the rabbit spied
Her favorite bloom-beds, and the callow brood
Of the wild duck awoke, upon the mead
Came Amarac her snowy kine to feed.
100
And now he touched his harp, and soft and low
The strings spoke to his fingers, and anear
The kine drew in the ever-brightening glow
Of the calm dawn, while one, unknown to fear,
The infant of the herd, with footsteps slow
Came nigher still, and stood with raptured ear,
As if she ne'er again cared to behold
The buttercups that turned her teeth to gold.
The strings spoke to his fingers, and anear
The kine drew in the ever-brightening glow
Of the calm dawn, while one, unknown to fear,
The infant of the herd, with footsteps slow
Came nigher still, and stood with raptured ear,
As if she ne'er again cared to behold
The buttercups that turned her teeth to gold.
And still the sweet strings spoke, and nearer yet
To the green tree the large-eyed listener drew
With dainty footsteps that scarce seemed to fret
From the young flowers and grass the diamond dew.
Then stooped the player; down his harp he set
Beside the tree, and from his ambush flew
And grasped the bright-backed offspring of the morn
By one pink ear and by one budding horn!
To the green tree the large-eyed listener drew
With dainty footsteps that scarce seemed to fret
From the young flowers and grass the diamond dew.
Then stooped the player; down his harp he set
Beside the tree, and from his ambush flew
And grasped the bright-backed offspring of the morn
By one pink ear and by one budding horn!
101
A hurrying by the lakelet and a cry!
A sparkle in his eyes! No more, no more
He held his little captive;—with a sigh
He turned, and on the meadow's blossomed floor
His love stood near the stream-bank bright and shy
As a young sea-gull on some sunny shore,
And spoke to him. “O love!” she said, “O love!
O dear one, well thy fealty thou dost prove!
A sparkle in his eyes! No more, no more
He held his little captive;—with a sigh
He turned, and on the meadow's blossomed floor
His love stood near the stream-bank bright and shy
As a young sea-gull on some sunny shore,
And spoke to him. “O love!” she said, “O love!
O dear one, well thy fealty thou dost prove!
“O dear belovèd one, I weep for thee,
I've wept and weep for thee, but not in vain,
And I will seek this spot and hallowed tree
And yearn for thee and think of all thy pain!
But go, beloved; the Rovers of the sea
Fasten upon thy land their cruel chain;
One trial more, until thy land rejoices
At thy best deed!” But hark the Spirit voices!—
I've wept and weep for thee, but not in vain,
And I will seek this spot and hallowed tree
And yearn for thee and think of all thy pain!
But go, beloved; the Rovers of the sea
Fasten upon thy land their cruel chain;
One trial more, until thy land rejoices
At thy best deed!” But hark the Spirit voices!—
102
He went forth like a meteor of morning, and the rocks felt the hoofs of his steed,
He tore through the fords of the rivers, and he furrowed the swards with his speed,
And the lances that gathered around him were thick as the larches that shake
In the broad shaggy woods of Bengara, when the whirlwind sweeps down from the lake;
And his shout was the cry of the eagle, and his charge was the shock of the sea
When it rolls with its tide and its tempest and swallows the sands; and the tree
Of his long spear uplifted his pennon like the terror of the moon in eclipse,
Till it fluttered in the winds of his triumph and the foemen fell back to their ships;
But alas for the broad-barbèd arrow and its swift path of woe through his side,
And the bowstring of fury that winged it ere the last of the red Rovers died!
SECOND SPIRIT.
His soul soared high o'er the battle wrack,
But we hovered around her and brought her back,
103
The bitter road of the barbèd arrow,
And we opened his eyes, and he looked around
On the ruined things of the foughten ground,
And we saw in his quick-returning sense
His life's fair purpose and thought intense;
And we scattered the clouds of his battle-swound,
And we placed her gift on his ruddy wound,
Her heart's bright treasure, all gifts above,
The rose-red Pearl of perfect love!
I hear a horse-tramp echoing from the dell!
He comes gay glittering up the ferny pass!
I see bright Amarac beside the well
Trembling, till in a gleam of gold and brass
He leaps from his strong steed! Ah! who can tell
Their happiness? The flowers amid the grass
Laughed brighter, and the birds sang by the shore
To see these lovers meet and part no more!
He comes gay glittering up the ferny pass!
I see bright Amarac beside the well
Trembling, till in a gleam of gold and brass
He leaps from his strong steed! Ah! who can tell
Their happiness? The flowers amid the grass
Laughed brighter, and the birds sang by the shore
To see these lovers meet and part no more!
104
“What think'st thou now, O mournful one? Can this,
Thy morn of life unclouded all glide on?
See what things happed to mar my hero's bliss,
And how with hopeful heart he fought and won,
Won even his love,—his love so sure to miss,
So hard to win! And now life's currents run
Against thee, yet keep high thy heart, and ne'er
Let black misfortune bring thee to despair!”
Thy morn of life unclouded all glide on?
See what things happed to mar my hero's bliss,
And how with hopeful heart he fought and won,
Won even his love,—his love so sure to miss,
So hard to win! And now life's currents run
Against thee, yet keep high thy heart, and ne'er
Let black misfortune bring thee to despair!”
Next eve, with grateful heart and farewells kind,
The minstrel southward rode, and for his train
Two pages took, and three young steeds the wind
Could not outstrip, three hounds with bell and chain,
Three hawks of Guydilod; yet in his mind
A dark unrest grew and a secret pain,
Thinking what cureless woes this love might bring
To strong Cuhullin, Blanid, and his King!
The minstrel southward rode, and for his train
Two pages took, and three young steeds the wind
Could not outstrip, three hounds with bell and chain,
Three hawks of Guydilod; yet in his mind
A dark unrest grew and a secret pain,
Thinking what cureless woes this love might bring
To strong Cuhullin, Blanid, and his King!
| Blanid | |