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THE LEGEND OF THE FOUNTAIN.

I

Stay with me upon the mountain,
Stay with me, and list my warning!
I am but a simple fountain,
Prattling on from eve to morning;

II

But the gleaming eye is in me,
Which hath virtue to foresee,
And the tongue with which I babble
Can reveal strange things to thee.
188

III

Mark! a-leaning o'er my margin
Skeletons of three great trees,
Cleft by thunder-bolts—mis-shapen,
Gnarled, and fretted at the knees.

IV

Oaks they are, but none would know it
If the acorn were the test,
Even leaf they rarely show it—
Forest monarchs sore distrest!

V

On the tale of their misfortunes
Hangs a tale of human woe,
None, I trow, the less disastrous
That its date was years ago.

VI

Years! a century is over,
And the portion of another,
Since that day of dark remembrance,
When a brother slew a brother—

VII

Slew, but not as Cain slew Abel,
In contending sacrifice,
When the offering on the Altar
Drew no token from the skies—
189

VIII

Smoked not, nor a sign of favour
Shewed, despite of fruit and corn
Heaped up in profusion lavish,
Decorating every horn—

IX

All the three horns of the Tripod
Gloried in their setting out
In the choice sheaves of the harvest,
Juicy bulb and tender sprout.

X

Let alone that ancient story,
Told by maiden at my side,
As she filled her homely pitcher
In the rosy eventide.

XI

She had culled it from her mother,
Sitting on that mother's knee,
At the door-step of a cottage,
In the heart of the Holy Lee,

XII

With the Bible spread before them
On a sunny Sabbath day—
The half-orphan and the widow
In her home-spun, hodden grey.
190

XIII

But my story:—I remember
When a youth came to my spring,
Quaffed it, named it Helicon—
Shouted, and essayed to sing—

XIV

Shouted, and with frantic gestures,
Called upon the circling scaurs,
Till the echoes in confusion
Marred the ear, as discord mars.

XV

Then he ceased, as by an effort—
Sobbed, as if his heart would burst,
And with lip to my cold fountain
Sought to slake his fiery thirst—

XVI

Prostrate sought, and bathed his forehead,
Steeped his tresses, laved his cheek—
Rose again in upright posture—
Gestured as about to speak.

XVII

But the voice failed, or the courage,
Or some sudden fit o'ertook;
For at once an icy trembling
Seized him, and the scaréd look
191

XVIII

Of a man upon whose shadow
Trod the avenger's feet—whose ear
Caught up menaces of evil—
Syllables of deadly fear—
Words of judgment drawing near.

XIX

But the moody fit passed over;
And again an eager draught
From my brimming stores he ravished,
Thanking Jesus as he quaffed—

XX

Thanking all the Saints of Heaven,
And the Angel of the Spring,
Till his heart had lost its burden,
And his tongue essayed to sing.

XXI

Low and plaintive was the measure,
Wild, but simple, were the words,
And the warblings to them mated
Teachings were of woodland birds.

XXII

Of the letter of the descant
I can give but sorry snatch;
And its spirit, too, is hidden
In the spirit of the catch.
192

XXIII

Ah! how short-lived the delirium!
As he sang, my watchful ear
Caught up sounds that boded evil—
Fateful footsteps drawing near.

XXIV

'Cross the hills there toiled a figure,
Bearing burden o'er his heart,
And the burden, God of Mercy!
Was the comer's counterpart—

XXV

Counterpart in form and feature;
Only by a prescient sense,
And an instinct to me given,
I descried the difference.

XXVI

In the arms of her strong lover
Clasped, a bleeding maiden lay,
Life's tide with its mystic floatings
Ebbing, ebbing fast away.

XXVII

Weary, weary was the bearer
When he reached my fountain's edge,
And lay down his woful burden
Breathless on the flowery sedge—
193

XXVIII

Breathless for the moment only,
Breath came back on hopeful wing;
And affection, ever active,
Found its ally in my spring—

XXIX

Dipped into the cooling waters
Hurriedly the fever'd palm—
Laved the forehead of the maiden
Over which the death-mist swam.

XXX

With red rubies flashed my fountain—
Oozings from the deadly wound—
The life-jewels of a virgin
In my well of diamond drowned—

XXXI

By the hand of strong affection
From the heart's-mine slowly freed,
Cast upon my fount of mercies
In an hour of crying need.

XXXII

With my diamonds they consorted,
And the emerald growths that clave,
Laced with sapphires at my margin—
Lustres shooting through my wave.
194

XXXIII

While the horror of the moment
Held me fast and all things near,
Hark! a cry of bitter anguish,
Like sharp dagger, smote the ear!

XXXIV

With its breaking forth great trembling
Seized the maiden, and a sigh
From the pallid lips escaping
With it took her soul on high.

XXXV

Strode into the fatal circle,
Passionful, a youthful form,
By the help of my blurred mirrors
I divined the coming storm.

XXXVI

Out it brake in sudden fury,
Brother upon brother rushed,
While the pale corse lay betwixt them,
And I gazed with ripple hushed.

XXXVII

Sister, did I term the maiden?
She was cousin to them both;
But she stood in light of sister,
Shackled by a double oath.
195

XXXVIII

In Thy mercy, God of mercy!
Shut my eyes! The thousand years
O'erpassing me, until this moment,
Shewed nor blood nor human tears.

XXXIX

God was gracious—heard my moanings—
O'er the mountains cast a haze,
Sealing up my power of vision
Seven long nights—seven longer days.

XL

Ended these; the dim perception
Of a tragedy in course,
Of my senses took possession,
Held it by magnetic force.

XLI

And I travelled, in my fancy,
Over places strange to me,
Through a valley, and beyond it,
To a city by the sea.

XLII

I had ceased to be a fountain—
Passed into a river wide,
On whose bosom barges floated,
Castles flourished at its side.
196

XLIII

But the trust to me committed,
In this hour of wondrous trance,
Was a shallop richly gilded,
Masted with a pennon'd lance.

XLIV

Caught its silken sails the zephyr,
And their shining tassels rung
Pleasantly, like bells of silver,
Armed with animated tongue.

XLV

At the helm there stood a watcher,
Golden-haired and azure-eyed,
With his hand upon the tiller,
And his gaze upon the tide.

XLVI

At the prow there sat a maiden
Motionless—the form of grace—
But a wonder and a rapture
Passed by turns into her face.

XLVII

Flashed across my recollection
The fair martyr at my spring,
Purified from sin and sorrow—
Saintly made through suffering—
197

XLVIII

Glided on the wondrous shallop
By the cherub pilot steered,
And the tassel'd sails made music
As the shining port it neared;

XLIX

To a palace in the city,
On it floated, like a swan,
Under pier, with angels crowded,
And an arch of mighty span—

L

To a palace built of marble,
Fronted by a terrace broad;
On its portal the inscription,
“All the Glory be to God.”

LI

I heard shouting of the angels,
And a song of welcome given;
But my hour of trance had ended,
And the mission towards heav'n.

LII

Waking, I am but a fountain,
Simple, garrulous, as of yore,
In the legends of the mountain
Versed, and in its fairy lore.
198

LIII

Bare and gaunt, like shattered idols,
Charred by the avenger's brand,
With their arms wrenched off by tempest,
Three grim oaks above me stand.

LIV

Under them a mossy hillock
Rivets the inquiring eye,
With its headstone rudely cyphered,
Marvel to the passer by!
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