The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd Centenary Edition. With a Memoir of the Author, by the Rev. Thomas Thomson ... Poems and Life. With Many Illustrative Engravings [by James Hogg] |
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Scene III.
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 | The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd |  |
Scene III.
—The glen.—Twilight.Lu and Fairy meeting.
Lu.
Welcome my little Foambell, here:
How fare thy flocks by frith and meer,
By river, pool, and streamlet clear?
Foam.
O prince, my charge I yield again!
My little breast is rent with pain!
No happy thing on earth may be,
While ruthless man holds sovereignty.
I chose the sweetest stream that fell
From mountain glen, and moorland well,
Where happy, gay, and innocent,
My finny tribes were in thousands blent;
And I rejoiced and smiled to see
Each awkward beck and courtesy;
How downward turned each full set eye,
As I, their queen, went sailing by.
My little breast is rent with pain!
No happy thing on earth may be,
While ruthless man holds sovereignty.
I chose the sweetest stream that fell
From mountain glen, and moorland well,
Where happy, gay, and innocent,
My finny tribes were in thousands blent;
And I rejoiced and smiled to see
Each awkward beck and courtesy;
How downward turned each full set eye,
As I, their queen, went sailing by.
One day, I spied upon the strand,
A carl that waved a sounding wand
Of marvellous length, whom I did deem
Some earthly guardian of the stream;
But coming nigh I wept full sore
To see my people dragged ashore,
One after one, and two by two,
And welcomed forth with murderous blow;
While their dying throes rejoiced his sight,
For his ugly face had the grin of delight.
A carl that waved a sounding wand
Of marvellous length, whom I did deem
Some earthly guardian of the stream;
But coming nigh I wept full sore
To see my people dragged ashore,
One after one, and two by two,
And welcomed forth with murderous blow;
While their dying throes rejoiced his sight,
For his ugly face had the grin of delight.
This scene my feelings could not bear;
I tried to wile them from the snare;
The form of a fisherman I took,
And I angled before him in the brook;
But they wearied of my phantom fly,
And the carl he thrashed and waded nigh:
I could not scare them from his hook,
For I cast no shadow on the brook;
Though boardly my frame, as man's might be,
“The sun shone through my thin bodye.”
I wist not what to do or say,
For still the carl he plashed away;
And his rod, that stretched o'er half the flood,
It sounded through the air so loud,
That it made me start and pant for breath,
For I knew the sough was the sound of death.
No minute passed but one or more
Was dragged forth struggling to the shore;
I saw them flutter in wild affright,
And shiver and gasp in piteous plight;
Their silvery sides, that in the flood
Shone bright and pure, were striped with blood;
Yet no remorse did the carl feel,
But thrust them in his wicker creel.
I tried to wile them from the snare;
The form of a fisherman I took,
And I angled before him in the brook;
But they wearied of my phantom fly,
And the carl he thrashed and waded nigh:
I could not scare them from his hook,
For I cast no shadow on the brook;
Though boardly my frame, as man's might be,
“The sun shone through my thin bodye.”
I wist not what to do or say,
For still the carl he plashed away;
And his rod, that stretched o'er half the flood,
It sounded through the air so loud,
That it made me start and pant for breath,
For I knew the sough was the sound of death.
No minute passed but one or more
Was dragged forth struggling to the shore;
I saw them flutter in wild affright,
And shiver and gasp in piteous plight;
Their silvery sides, that in the flood
Shone bright and pure, were striped with blood;
Yet no remorse did the carl feel,
But thrust them in his wicker creel.
Then I bethought me of a plan,
Of turning pike instead of man;
And aye where his hook the angler threw
I chased away my harmless crew:
Oh! how astonished were the throng
When I came gaping them among!
Away they fled to ward the scathe,
Fast I pursued with threat of death.
Most gleesome sport I had the while,
But wondered at the carl's wile,
For o'er the ripple he swam his fly,
So sleek and so provokingly,
That scarcely could I myself restrain
From springing at that bait amain;
For, though by sage it be denied,
Nature and form are still allied.
Of turning pike instead of man;
And aye where his hook the angler threw
I chased away my harmless crew:
Oh! how astonished were the throng
When I came gaping them among!
Away they fled to ward the scathe,
Fast I pursued with threat of death.
Most gleesome sport I had the while,
But wondered at the carl's wile,
For o'er the ripple he swam his fly,
So sleek and so provokingly,
That scarcely could I myself restrain
From springing at that bait amain;
For, though by sage it be denied,
Nature and form are still allied.
Amazement marked the fisher's look,
Another fish he could not hook;
He changed his tackle, he changed his fly,
And blamed the colour of the sky;
But, baulked for once, he went away,
Cursing the fish and hateful day.
Another fish he could not hook;
He changed his tackle, he changed his fly,
And blamed the colour of the sky;
But, baulked for once, he went away,
Cursing the fish and hateful day.
Full six times twelve away he bore,
I saw him count them on the shore;
All reft of life withouten law,
To gorge a miscreant's ravenous maw.
Then sooth, while man has sway below,
My watery charge I must forego.
I saw him count them on the shore;
All reft of life withouten law,
To gorge a miscreant's ravenous maw.
Then sooth, while man has sway below,
My watery charge I must forego.
Lu.
But here comes slender Gossamer,
Like shred of silver through the air.—
What news, thou gentle, pitying child,
From mountain, glen, and pathless wild?
Gos.
Ah, woeful news! my heart's in pain!
All would be joy in my domain,
The kid and lamb would sport in peace,
The young deer dwell in happiness;
But man—remorseless, ravenous man,
Kills and devours; and stay who can!
The life-blood and the trembling limb
Of parting life are joy to him:
That rank devourer hence restrain,
Or take from me my charge again.
Lu.
Woe's me, that those we so much love,
Such troublers should of nature prove:
But here comes one whose placid face
Speaks better things of the human race.
Welcome, sweet Snowflake, back to me;
How thrives sweet virgin purity?
Snow.
Ah, Prince, decline the woeful theme!
Give it not thought—give it not name!
Else first restrain or quench the blood
Of man, the defacer of all good!
The maiden is pure without a stain,
And pure in mind would aye remain;
But man—I sicken at the thought
Of all the shame that he hath wrought;
There is no art—there is no wile
That may the maiden heart beguile,
And cloud for aye the joyous smile,
Which this destroyer scorns to prove—
This recreant in the paths of love.
Thousands to shame and ruin driven,
Debased on earth—debarred from heaven—
Of human forms and souls divine,
Yearly at Love's unholy shrine,
On bloated altar doomed to lie,
Unblest to weep, unwept to die.
Give it not thought—give it not name!
Else first restrain or quench the blood
Of man, the defacer of all good!
The maiden is pure without a stain,
And pure in mind would aye remain;
349
Of all the shame that he hath wrought;
There is no art—there is no wile
That may the maiden heart beguile,
And cloud for aye the joyous smile,
Which this destroyer scorns to prove—
This recreant in the paths of love.
Thousands to shame and ruin driven,
Debased on earth—debarred from heaven—
Of human forms and souls divine,
Yearly at Love's unholy shrine,
On bloated altar doomed to lie,
Unblest to weep, unwept to die.
Without regret, or wish t'atone,
He boasts his feats and urges on;
And when no other schemes remain
To give the virtuous bosom pain,
To beauty's walks he wends his way,
With shameless stare in open day,
To check the step, abash the eye,
And tint the cheek of modesty.
O prince! my charge I must disclaim,
While man's rude nature is the same.
He boasts his feats and urges on;
And when no other schemes remain
To give the virtuous bosom pain,
To beauty's walks he wends his way,
With shameless stare in open day,
To check the step, abash the eye,
And tint the cheek of modesty.
O prince! my charge I must disclaim,
While man's rude nature is the same.
And more; a baleful imp, I fear,
Is lately come to sojourn here;
A stranger spirit, bent on ill,
Whom I have watch'd o'er vale and hill:
His purposes we must gainsay,
Else shame may be ere break of day.
Yon cot I marked him prying round,
But scared him thence; and there I found
The loveliest maid of mortal race,
In dangerous and in helpless case.
A clown had crept her door within,
And left it open to the gin;
A dark knight stood her casement nigh,
With burning cheek, and greedy eye,
While the unweeting, simple maid,
Kneeled on the floor and inly prayed.
Her light locks o'er her shoulders swung,
Her night-robe round her waist was flung;
Her eyes were raised—her breast of snow
Heaved with devotion's grateful glow.
The speaking lip, the brow erect,
The movement on the polished neck,
The blooming cheek, the fervent mien,
Were all so comely, so serene,
The breeze of earth did ne'er embrace
Such pure angelic loveliness.
Is lately come to sojourn here;
A stranger spirit, bent on ill,
Whom I have watch'd o'er vale and hill:
His purposes we must gainsay,
Else shame may be ere break of day.
Yon cot I marked him prying round,
But scared him thence; and there I found
The loveliest maid of mortal race,
In dangerous and in helpless case.
A clown had crept her door within,
And left it open to the gin;
A dark knight stood her casement nigh,
With burning cheek, and greedy eye,
While the unweeting, simple maid,
Kneeled on the floor and inly prayed.
Her light locks o'er her shoulders swung,
Her night-robe round her waist was flung;
Her eyes were raised—her breast of snow
Heaved with devotion's grateful glow.
The speaking lip, the brow erect,
The movement on the polished neck,
The blooming cheek, the fervent mien,
Were all so comely, so serene,
The breeze of earth did ne'er embrace
Such pure angelic loveliness.
The peasant's rugged form I took,
And braved the blood-hound's surly look;
At me he flew with horrid bay:
I fled, provoked, and led the way
Straight to the base and wicked clown—
The ban-dog seized and pulled him down;
Aloud he cried, and fought for life,
And rough and bloody was the strife.
And braved the blood-hound's surly look;
At me he flew with horrid bay:
I fled, provoked, and led the way
Straight to the base and wicked clown—
The ban-dog seized and pulled him down;
Aloud he cried, and fought for life,
And rough and bloody was the strife.
Then in the maiden's form so light,
Forthwith I glided by the knight,
Who followed fast, and begged and prayed,
But still I flew along the glade;—
Just when his arms were stretched to press
My waist with hellish eagerness,
A quagmire deep I led him in,
And left him struggling to the chin.
Forthwith I glided by the knight,
Who followed fast, and begged and prayed,
But still I flew along the glade;—
Just when his arms were stretched to press
My waist with hellish eagerness,
A quagmire deep I led him in,
And left him struggling to the chin.
Thus far full deftly have I sped,
Protecting maidhood's guiltless bed;
But ah, if man, the lord below,
Continue still as he is now,
Alas! my prince, my toils will prove
Light balance in the scales of love.
Protecting maidhood's guiltless bed;
But ah, if man, the lord below,
Continue still as he is now,
Alas! my prince, my toils will prove
Light balance in the scales of love.
But who would strive?—Last night I spied
The loveliest flower on Leven side
In her bed-chamber laid to rest,
A sweet babe cradled on her breast.
Such fondness melted in her eye—
Affection's holiest purity,
When with her breast the elfin played,
His round cheek to that bosom laid,
That I was moved, and weened if bliss
Be found in life's imperfectness,
If pure affection's from above,—
If “Love is Heaven, and Heaven is Love,”
All love, all fondness is outdone
By mother's o'er her only son:
That glow is bright, its workings kind,
Calm, chastened, ardent, yet refined.
Then let me roam, as heretofore,
And think of guarding maids no more.
The loveliest flower on Leven side
In her bed-chamber laid to rest,
A sweet babe cradled on her breast.
Such fondness melted in her eye—
Affection's holiest purity,
When with her breast the elfin played,
His round cheek to that bosom laid,
That I was moved, and weened if bliss
Be found in life's imperfectness,
If pure affection's from above,—
If “Love is Heaven, and Heaven is Love,”
All love, all fondness is outdone
By mother's o'er her only son:
That glow is bright, its workings kind,
Calm, chastened, ardent, yet refined.
Then let me roam, as heretofore,
And think of guarding maids no more.
Song by Lu.
Never, gentle spirits, neverYield your cares of human kind!
Can you leave the lonely river,
From the moonlight valley sever,
All your guardian love resigned?
Thrown aside and scorned the giver?
Never, gentle spirits, never!
Chorus of Fairies.
Never till the dawn of day,Dawn of truth that shine shall ever,
Will we quit our polar way;
Over greenwood, glen, and brae,
Over tree,
Over lea,
Over fell and forest free,
Over rock, and over river,
Over cairn and cloud to quiver;
Never, gentle spirits, never!
Never!—Never!
| The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd | |