Gods, Saints & Men By Eugene Lee-Hamilton ... With Ten Full-Page Illustartions Designed by Enrico Mazzanti |
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THE RHYME OF THE REEDS. |
 | Gods, Saints & Men |  |
50
THE RHYME OF THE REEDS.
In a Sicilian mountain-circled plain,
Where fertile fields now long have fallow lain,
And clumps of reeds replace the ousted grain,
See how the reeds are waving.
Where fertile fields now long have fallow lain,
And clumps of reeds replace the ousted grain,
See how the reeds are waving.
May still be seen upon a little steep,
Beclad with ivy and with flowers that creep,
The blackened remnants of a Norman keep.
Hark how the wind is sighing.
Beclad with ivy and with flowers that creep,
The blackened remnants of a Norman keep.
Hark how the wind is sighing.
Around each crumbling wall and shattered tower
The invading reeds have undisputed power.
See how they all are waving.
The invading reeds have undisputed power.
See how they all are waving.
It was a stately castle in its day,
Before the Norman rule had passed away.
Hark how the wind is sighing.
Before the Norman rule had passed away.
Hark how the wind is sighing.
51
Within its walls there dwelt two noble brothers,
Unlike as night and day, of different mothers.
See how the reeds are waving.
Unlike as night and day, of different mothers.
See how the reeds are waving.
The elder dark as Cain, with locks of sable,
The younger golden-haired, as fair as Abel.
List how the wind is sighing.
The younger golden-haired, as fair as Abel.
List how the wind is sighing.
One Bohemund, the other Berengar;
Their father's land extended wide and far,
Count Roger was his name, far-famed in war.
See how the reeds are waving.
Their father's land extended wide and far,
Count Roger was his name, far-famed in war.
See how the reeds are waving.
Both loved one girl; and she her heart had given
To Berengar; the choice was ne'er forgiven;
List how the wind is moaning.
To Berengar; the choice was ne'er forgiven;
List how the wind is moaning.
Thenceforth his brother cherished secret hate,
A hate as deadly as his love was great.
Hark how the reeds are rustling.
A hate as deadly as his love was great.
Hark how the reeds are rustling.
As through a savage tract the brothers rode
One day alone, and far from men's abode,
Where there were reeds high-waving.
One day alone, and far from men's abode,
Where there were reeds high-waving.
Dark Bohemund, a traitorous weapon drew,
And, from behind, his fair-haired brother slew;
Hark how the wind is moaning.
And, from behind, his fair-haired brother slew;
Hark how the wind is moaning.
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And like a thief, by guilt and terror hurried,
With trembling hand the blood-stained corpse he buried,
Among the pale green reeds erect and serried,
Gently around him waving.
With trembling hand the blood-stained corpse he buried,
Among the pale green reeds erect and serried,
Gently around him waving.
At every sound he stopped in sudden fear,
Or heard a step, or thought a voice to hear,
Only the breeze was sighing.
Or heard a step, or thought a voice to hear,
Only the breeze was sighing.
While riderless and breathless, white with foam,
The frightened courser sought his distant home,
Roughly the reeds down-crushing.
The frightened courser sought his distant home,
Roughly the reeds down-crushing.
None saw the deed: all took the murderer's word
That Berengar had perished in a ford,
Where the high reeds were waving.
That Berengar had perished in a ford,
Where the high reeds were waving.
With Spring's return, above the lonely grave
Young reeds sprang up to rustle and to wave,
There when the wind was sighing.
Young reeds sprang up to rustle and to wave,
There when the wind was sighing.
No step approached; no sound the silence broke
Save when, at eve, the distant bull-frog woke,
And, in the dusk, set up his patient croak,
Where the high reeds were waving.
Save when, at eve, the distant bull-frog woke,
And, in the dusk, set up his patient croak,
Where the high reeds were waving.
53
At last, one day a goatherd brought his goats,
His horned and bearded goats, with shaggy coats,
Where the high reeds were rustling.
His horned and bearded goats, with shaggy coats,
Where the high reeds were rustling.
A gentle lad who came each break of day,
And who at sunset went his homeward way.
List how the breeze is sighing.
And who at sunset went his homeward way.
List how the breeze is sighing.
One day in autumn when the reeds were ripe,
He felt a whim to make a sylvan pipe.
Hark how the reeds are rustling.
He felt a whim to make a sylvan pipe.
Hark how the reeds are rustling.
A pleasant hour upon the work he spent;
He notched the holes, he neatly cut the vent,
And trimmed the rustic instrument.
See how the reeds are waving.
He notched the holes, he neatly cut the vent,
And trimmed the rustic instrument.
See how the reeds are waving.
But scarce it touched his lips, than turning pale,
He let it drop in terror, for the frail
And slender pipe gave out a human wail,
Low as the wind that's moaning.
He let it drop in terror, for the frail
And slender pipe gave out a human wail,
Low as the wind that's moaning.
He tried again, and lo, a spoken word,
Distinct though soft, the trembling lad now heard.
There mid the reeds high waving.
Distinct though soft, the trembling lad now heard.
There mid the reeds high waving.
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“Sell all thy goats, and with this pipe of reed,
Across the world from hearth to hearth proceed,
So shalt thou prosper and avenge the deed.
List how the wind is moaning.”
Across the world from hearth to hearth proceed,
So shalt thou prosper and avenge the deed.
List how the wind is moaning.”
So spake it thrice: he did as he was bid,
He sold his goats, he sold each bleating kid.
See how the reeds are waving.
He sold his goats, he sold each bleating kid.
See how the reeds are waving.
The magic reed-pipe spoke for rich and poor,
It knew the secret both of lord and boor.
List how the wind is moaning.
It knew the secret both of lord and boor.
List how the wind is moaning.
Great were the goat-herd's gains, and like a flame
From place to place ran on the reed pipe's fame,
Fast as the whirlwind speeding.
From place to place ran on the reed pipe's fame,
Fast as the whirlwind speeding.
He reached a castle where a mighty crowd
Of guests were met, and revelry was loud,
While on the wall Count Roger's banner proud,
High in the breeze was waving.
Of guests were met, and revelry was loud,
While on the wall Count Roger's banner proud,
High in the breeze was waving.
It was a nuptial feast, where side by side,
Sat Bohemund the bridegroom, and his bride,
Who once had been the bride of him who died
Where the high reeds are waving.
Sat Bohemund the bridegroom, and his bride,
Who once had been the bride of him who died
Where the high reeds are waving.
55
With loud applause the lad was ushered in,
And old Count Roger cried above the din,
'Tis Bohemund, the Bridegroom must begin.
Hark how the breeze is sighing.
And old Count Roger cried above the din,
'Tis Bohemund, the Bridegroom must begin.
Hark how the breeze is sighing.
He seemed unwilling, but obeyed at last,
And through the crowd a hush of wonder passed,
Just as when reeds are rustling.
And through the crowd a hush of wonder passed,
Just as when reeds are rustling.
He took the reed-pipe from the lad and blew;
But as he did so, pale as death he grew,
For from the pipe, there came a voice he knew,
Sad as the wind that's sighing.
But as he did so, pale as death he grew,
For from the pipe, there came a voice he knew,
Sad as the wind that's sighing.
He writhed in vain; in vain he tried to stay
His fatal breath; the pipe would have its way;
The hand of God was forcing him to play.
Look how the reeds are waving.
His fatal breath; the pipe would have its way;
The hand of God was forcing him to play.
Look how the reeds are waving.
“Where many reeds are waving tall and serried,
Was Berengar from life and sunshine hurried,
By his own brother's hand, and lieth buried.
List how the wind is sighing.”
Was Berengar from life and sunshine hurried,
By his own brother's hand, and lieth buried.
List how the wind is sighing.”
From every mouth loud execrations burst,
But old Count Roger neither wept nor cursed
Hark how the reeds are rustling.
But old Count Roger neither wept nor cursed
Hark how the reeds are rustling.
56
From out its sheath he drew his heavy sword,
And clove the murderer's skull without a word.
Then bade the Bride go seek her lawful Lord
Under the reeds high waving.
And clove the murderer's skull without a word.
Then bade the Bride go seek her lawful Lord
Under the reeds high waving.
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