 | The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith |  |
MORGANA
Oh, green are the pines of the Barleywood,
And the drooping birches are fair to see,
And bonnie the carpet that summer weaves
Of the green overlapping bracken leaves;
And the spring bluebell and anemone
You might bind up there in sheaves.
And the drooping birches are fair to see,
And bonnie the carpet that summer weaves
Of the green overlapping bracken leaves;
And the spring bluebell and anemone
You might bind up there in sheaves.
And blythe are the birds in the Barleywood,
Where merle and mavis and woodlark sing,
And the cushat croodles high unseen,
And the cuckoo calls from the bracken green;
And sweet are the smells that the wind-wafts bring,
When the morning airs are keen.
Where merle and mavis and woodlark sing,
And the cushat croodles high unseen,
And the cuckoo calls from the bracken green;
And sweet are the smells that the wind-wafts bring,
When the morning airs are keen.
But woe is me for the Barleywood!
There's a pang in my heart for every tree,
And for every bird in the wood that dwells,
And for every waft of the woodland smells;
The pang of a cruel memory
For all its buds and bells.
There's a pang in my heart for every tree,
And for every bird in the wood that dwells,
And for every waft of the woodland smells;
The pang of a cruel memory
For all its buds and bells.
For fairest things may dreariest be,
And sweetest of songs most sad to hear,
When tree and blossom and bird and flower
All link them on to a woeful hour,
And bring the past and its sorrow near
The heart to overpower.
And sweetest of songs most sad to hear,
When tree and blossom and bird and flower
All link them on to a woeful hour,
And bring the past and its sorrow near
The heart to overpower.
There were two lovers that sought my love—
Ay me! but it's ever so long ago—
One was beautiful, young and brave,
But the other was noble and rich and grave:
And how should a silly young maiden know
Fittingly to behave?
Ay me! but it's ever so long ago—
One was beautiful, young and brave,
But the other was noble and rich and grave:
And how should a silly young maiden know
Fittingly to behave?
I had no mother to guide me right—
Ah, woe! for a thoughtless girl like me!
And my father he left me all the day,
And went to his sleep in the evening grey;
And how should a foolish maiden see
Rightly to guide her way?
Ah, woe! for a thoughtless girl like me!
And my father he left me all the day,
And went to his sleep in the evening grey;
And how should a foolish maiden see
Rightly to guide her way?
329
I loved my beautiful youth and brave—
Lack-a-day! I was still in my teens—
Yet I longed for the wealth and the noble name,
But I had not a thought of sin or shame;
And how should a girl know what it means
To keep from evil fame?
Lack-a-day! I was still in my teens—
Yet I longed for the wealth and the noble name,
But I had not a thought of sin or shame;
And how should a girl know what it means
To keep from evil fame?
My Lord, he came, when the day was high—
And oh but the hours went heavy and slow—
But my Love stole quietly up to my side,
And low at my feet in the evening sighed,
And then would the hours like minutes flow
In the happy eventide.
And oh but the hours went heavy and slow—
But my Love stole quietly up to my side,
And low at my feet in the evening sighed,
And then would the hours like minutes flow
In the happy eventide.
My Lord, he would hold my worsted hank,
Pleased when my needle was briskly plied;
But my Love would not hear of work to do
When he was with me, and well he knew
To make the happy hours swiftly glide
With love that was always new.
Pleased when my needle was briskly plied;
But my Love would not hear of work to do
When he was with me, and well he knew
To make the happy hours swiftly glide
With love that was always new.
And close to his heart he clasped me once—
Oh what so sweet as a love-embrace?
My Lord, he would only touch the tip
Of my little hand with a dainty lip,
And then smile prettily into my face,
And let the little hand slip.
Oh what so sweet as a love-embrace?
My Lord, he would only touch the tip
Of my little hand with a dainty lip,
And then smile prettily into my face,
And let the little hand slip.
But my love he clasped me once and twice—
How I thrilled all through in his fond embrace!
And he vowed, if ever my Lord should dare
To hold me so, that he did not care
What might happen of foul disgrace,
He would not leave me there.
How I thrilled all through in his fond embrace!
And he vowed, if ever my Lord should dare
To hold me so, that he did not care
What might happen of foul disgrace,
He would not leave me there.
I wist not then what his words might mean,
But oh his look it was fierce and wild,
It frightened me so, that I bade him go:
And my Lord he spake to me sweet and low,
Next day and next, and I heard and smiled,
And did not say him No.
But oh his look it was fierce and wild,
It frightened me so, that I bade him go:
And my Lord he spake to me sweet and low,
Next day and next, and I heard and smiled,
And did not say him No.
But by and by a low whisper ran—
It should have blistered every tongue—
Ran through the evil-speaking place,
Whisper wicked of foul disgrace:
And I so simple and pure and young!
Oh it was vile and base.
It should have blistered every tongue—
Ran through the evil-speaking place,
Whisper wicked of foul disgrace:
And I so simple and pure and young!
Oh it was vile and base.
He was a villain, I said, and lied—
Ah me! what can a poor girl do?—
He lied, he lied: I had nothing to hide;
Yet, he struck me down there by his side,
Pierced my heart with a falsehood through:
Oh how the villain lied!
Ah me! what can a poor girl do?—
He lied, he lied: I had nothing to hide;
Yet, he struck me down there by his side,
Pierced my heart with a falsehood through:
Oh how the villain lied!
My Lord, he came of a noble race,
And yes! his heart it was noble too;
Lo! now, he said, this lie has gone
All through the city, and there are none,
But only I, that believe in you,
And still keep loving on.
And yes! his heart it was noble too;
Lo! now, he said, this lie has gone
All through the city, and there are none,
But only I, that believe in you,
And still keep loving on.
But I have trusted you, and I trust—
I took his hand, and I kissed it then—
Yes, I trust, for I know you true,
And I should die if I doubted you;
And I scorn the women and viler men
Who lie now as they do.
I took his hand, and I kissed it then—
Yes, I trust, for I know you true,
And I should die if I doubted you;
And I scorn the women and viler men
Who lie now as they do.
Then let the wedding bells ring out,
And let the priest make haste and come;
Our name was ever without a stain,
And they will tattle and talk in vain,
When we to the altar go, and home
Return together again.
And let the priest make haste and come;
Our name was ever without a stain,
And they will tattle and talk in vain,
When we to the altar go, and home
Return together again.
330
It was a hard and a cruel place,
Where every man of his neigh bour spoke,
And evil report of sin or wrong
Grew louder still as it went along,
Till on some happy life it broke,
And silenced its happy song.
Where every man of his neigh bour spoke,
And evil report of sin or wrong
Grew louder still as it went along,
Till on some happy life it broke,
And silenced its happy song.
Had I only thought! But my heart was hot;
I am certain now that he was belied,
For there were women that hated me
Because men said I was fair to see;
And women will humble woman's pride,
False as the tale may be.
I am certain now that he was belied,
For there were women that hated me
Because men said I was fair to see;
And women will humble woman's pride,
False as the tale may be.
But I was mad: and I said, he lies;
Oh is there none who will take my part?
Were I a man, I would lay him low,
And who shall give him a right death blow,
Him I will love with all my heart
For slaying the villain so.
Oh is there none who will take my part?
Were I a man, I would lay him low,
And who shall give him a right death blow,
Him I will love with all my heart
For slaying the villain so.
Slowly, slowly my Lord he rose—
And oh but he looked grave and sad:
And he bent him low, and he went his way,
Never a word then did he say,
And my heart leaped up, and I was glad,
Until the close of day.
And oh but he looked grave and sad:
And he bent him low, and he went his way,
Never a word then did he say,
And my heart leaped up, and I was glad,
Until the close of day.
But all that night I found no sleep,
Tossing in restless, troubled thought;
I said I would love my Lord truly and well,
I said I was happy; and yet there fell
Such gloom on my heavy heart as brought
Horror on me like hell.
Tossing in restless, troubled thought;
I said I would love my Lord truly and well,
I said I was happy; and yet there fell
Such gloom on my heavy heart as brought
Horror on me like hell.
All through the night I lay, and tossed,
Wearily longing for the day,
And rose at dawn in a troubled mood,
And hied me away to the Barleywood,
And through its dewy glades took my way,
Where the air was fresh and good.
Wearily longing for the day,
And rose at dawn in a troubled mood,
And hied me away to the Barleywood,
And through its dewy glades took my way,
Where the air was fresh and good.
Sweet smelled the pines of the Barleywood,
And oh I shall never forget the birds,
They gathered about me, and had no fear,
And sang the thought of my heart as clear
As if they were speaking it out in words;
His lie shall cost him dear!
And oh I shall never forget the birds,
They gathered about me, and had no fear,
And sang the thought of my heart as clear
As if they were speaking it out in words;
His lie shall cost him dear!
And I too sang, yet I was not glad;
I said I was, but it was not so:
I sang as the mad folk I have known
Sing, when their heart is like a stone,
But I could have wept with joy to know
No fell deed had been done.
I said I was, but it was not so:
I sang as the mad folk I have known
Sing, when their heart is like a stone,
But I could have wept with joy to know
No fell deed had been done.
Just then, and ever so near, I heard—
Ah me! how they ring in my heart this day!
Two shots, and a thud on the dewy grass—
O heart! my heart, how it sank, alas!
Oh cruel madness, and evil day
That brought this thing to pass!
Ah me! how they ring in my heart this day!
Two shots, and a thud on the dewy grass—
O heart! my heart, how it sank, alas!
Oh cruel madness, and evil day
That brought this thing to pass!
Well did I know what had befallen—
As well as if I had seen it all:
Great Lords have a steady hand and eye,
They sleep, and they do not fear to die:
But my young Love for sleep would call,
And it would not come nigh.
As well as if I had seen it all:
Great Lords have a steady hand and eye,
They sleep, and they do not fear to die:
But my young Love for sleep would call,
And it would not come nigh.
Well did I wot what had befallen—
As well as if I had seen it all;
And out of the wood I rushed, and there
My Love lay dead in the morning air,
Close by the mossy brambly wall,
Upon the moorland bare!
As well as if I had seen it all;
And out of the wood I rushed, and there
My Love lay dead in the morning air,
Close by the mossy brambly wall,
Upon the moorland bare!
I fell on him, and I clasped him close—
Oh how the love of him all came back!
Men were near me, standing about,
But I only saw the blood oozing out
From his dear mouth in a thread-like track,
That killed all hope and doubt.
Oh how the love of him all came back!
Men were near me, standing about,
But I only saw the blood oozing out
From his dear mouth in a thread-like track,
That killed all hope and doubt.
331
Beautiful there in death he lay,
But ah the cold damp on his brow!
Oh my beautiful, young, and brave!
I—it is I that have dug your grave!
And oh that I were but with you now!
For Death is the boon I crave.
But ah the cold damp on his brow!
Oh my beautiful, young, and brave!
I—it is I that have dug your grave!
And oh that I were but with you now!
For Death is the boon I crave.
I kissed his mouth—I kissed his cheek—
O Love, my love! I wildly cried:
The red blood stained my mouth and chin,
And the stain of it was on my soul within;
For I was his murderer: yes, he lied:
But oh my sin, my sin!
O Love, my love! I wildly cried:
The red blood stained my mouth and chin,
And the stain of it was on my soul within;
For I was his murderer: yes, he lied:
But oh my sin, my sin!
It was in the madness of Love he lied:
And I—I loved him in spite of it:
Come back, my Love: come back, my Life:
Will none of you thrust in my heart a knife?
For I surely might overtake him yet,
And be his own true wife.
And I—I loved him in spite of it:
Come back, my Love: come back, my Life:
Will none of you thrust in my heart a knife?
For I surely might overtake him yet,
And be his own true wife.
He lied, but I would have done it too,
Had he been false to his love and me;
Leave us here: how I hate you now;
There's a lock of fair hair on his brow—
I have curled it oft on my finger; see
It knows my finger now:
Had he been false to his love and me;
Leave us here: how I hate you now;
There's a lock of fair hair on his brow—
I have curled it oft on my finger; see
It knows my finger now:
Oh I would not give that lock of hair
For all your lordship and your land:
But bury us both together here;
And come not hither to drop a tear,
You who slew him with your hand,
And me with the murderous cheer.
For all your lordship and your land:
But bury us both together here;
And come not hither to drop a tear,
You who slew him with your hand,
And me with the murderous cheer.
Mad I was and unjust to him—
What would you have from a breaking heart?
He was too noble to take it ill;
Besides, they hurried him down the hill,
And far away to a foreign part
Where he is wandering still.
What would you have from a breaking heart?
He was too noble to take it ill;
Besides, they hurried him down the hill,
And far away to a foreign part
Where he is wandering still.
They made a bier of the green pineboughs—
Ay me! the Barleywood pines are sweet!
A bier for him and a bier for me,
For I was as like to death as he,
And they bore us down to my Father's seat,
A woeful sight to see.
Ay me! the Barleywood pines are sweet!
A bier for him and a bier for me,
For I was as like to death as he,
And they bore us down to my Father's seat,
A woeful sight to see.
Yet I lived on, who would have gone
So glad with my love to his early rest;
My hair grew white, but not with years,
And I lived down all their lies and sneers,
But with a heavy heart in my breast,
And many sighs and tears.
So glad with my love to his early rest;
My hair grew white, but not with years,
And I lived down all their lies and sneers,
But with a heavy heart in my breast,
And many sighs and tears.
Never I saw my Lord again,
Never I wished to see his face;
Yet he was sure of a noble strain,
Trusty and true; but it would be pain
Recalling the tale of foul disgrace,
And all that past again.
Never I wished to see his face;
Yet he was sure of a noble strain,
Trusty and true; but it would be pain
Recalling the tale of foul disgrace,
And all that past again.
One thing only has made me glad—
After the healing mercy of God—
The day of the Duel now is past;
And never shall maiden stare aghast,
As I did then, on the blood-tinged sod
Where my dead Love was cast.
After the healing mercy of God—
The day of the Duel now is past;
And never shall maiden stare aghast,
As I did then, on the blood-tinged sod
Where my dead Love was cast.
| The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith | |