The Legend of St. Loy With Other Poems. By John Abraham Heraud |
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| 3. | CANTO THE THIRD.
The Wood.
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 | The Legend of St. Loy |  |
95
CANTO THE THIRD. The Wood.
“Within the navel of this hideous wood,
“Immured in cypress shades, a Sorcerer dwells. — [OMITTED]
“Hence with thy brewed enchantments, foul deceiver.”
Milton.
“Immured in cypress shades, a Sorcerer dwells. — [OMITTED]
“Hence with thy brewed enchantments, foul deceiver.”
Milton.
97
I.
Not to the House of Mirth; — where hidden WoeThe loud laugh mocks, and strives with care in vain,
Like triumph o'er the tomb of dreaded foe,
Which trembles still, lest he may rise again; —
Where study e'er invents new arts to stain,
And, after, sear the page of conscience ill; —
Where Death lurks in the mantled bowl they drain,
By Feud preceded, and fell Mischief still: —
Which Wisdom shuns, aye bent to Virtue's pleasant hill;
98
Most constantly inclined! For there the heart
Is bared — compelled the eye of Truth to meet,
That, undeceived, she may scan every part,
Virtues of Nature, peccancies of Art,
Free from the mists of Prejudice and Folly;
And, 'mid her soul-ennobling sorrows, start,
With angel-wing, to things divine and holy —
Ever sacred be my Harp to Love and Melancholy!
II.
Ye Youths, ye Maids, who love the strain,
Hither — oh, come with me again!
Come to the spring of healing blest,
Where, obvious on Air's azure breast,
With spirits girt, and forms of light,
The Saint to his true votaries' sight
The vision of sweet Hope displayed,
Like the young rainbow, first arrayed,
With hues of promise gaily-flowered,
And braided o'er the world restored,
As covenant of Heaven with Man,
That, that great Love which first began
The world, ere He its links did sever,
Should be renewed, and bind for ever
Nature in order, and again
Her sons in peace with God maintain.
Be thy bright vision, O, St. Loy!
Of love prophetic, closed in joy.
Hither — oh, come with me again!
Come to the spring of healing blest,
Where, obvious on Air's azure breast,
With spirits girt, and forms of light,
The Saint to his true votaries' sight
The vision of sweet Hope displayed,
Like the young rainbow, first arrayed,
With hues of promise gaily-flowered,
And braided o'er the world restored,
As covenant of Heaven with Man,
That, that great Love which first began
99
Should be renewed, and bind for ever
Nature in order, and again
Her sons in peace with God maintain.
Be thy bright vision, O, St. Loy!
Of love prophetic, closed in joy.
Soon as their wonder — gratitude —
That made them statues where they stood
Of fixed extacy — resigned
The first wild impulse o'er the mind,
The Brothers, and the Hermit too,
Were bent to prove the vision true:
And Agilnoth gazed on his steel,
And did its edge with triumph feel,
Resolved to give, sublime in hope,
Revenge its fell and ample scope.
That made them statues where they stood
Of fixed extacy — resigned
The first wild impulse o'er the mind,
The Brothers, and the Hermit too,
Were bent to prove the vision true:
And Agilnoth gazed on his steel,
And did its edge with triumph feel,
Resolved to give, sublime in hope,
Revenge its fell and ample scope.
III.
But lo! — beside that Well is seenA wild, and more than human mien,
Albeit no celestial charm
Is mingled in her solemn form;
100
And owns not for her mother — Earth.
They see her, and, recoiling, sign
Their foreheads with the cross divine.
I said her form was wild, and, sooth to tell,
It was most strangely beautiful as well,
But still not lovely — for it had an awe
Which did appal the gazer, and not draw
His soul to worship her supernal charms,
And seek the world, yea, heaven, within her arms.
Wild — as the strain each fatal sister sings,
While o'er hell's loom they weave the doom of Kings;
Strange—as their theme, and beauteous—as their song,
While they their horrid labour ply along,
Heard by a mortal ear, if mortal ear
To list the song of Destiny could bear —
Wild — beautiful — as those Valkyrior
Who, in Valhalla's Paradise of War,
Prepare the fabled God, and heroes blest,
Celestial mead, in hour of mortal rest.
101
IV.
One moment, and she was not there,The next, she stood beside the Well,
Like a tall apparition fair,
In cinctured sheen, the bearer of a spell.
They felt her presence, ere their eye
Had caught her dazzling form of light,
As if a spirit had passed by —
They turned — and, lo! — the Image bright!
Youthful, and yet as age severe,
As stern as she was passing fair —
Her eye;—it was prophetical!
Looked through the heart, and searched it all! —
Again with trembling hands they sign
Their foreheads with the cross divine;
And feel her glance cold, undefined,
Thrill with strange dread the shrinking mind.
She spake — and oh! her speech possest
A supernatural accent wild,
That was so fearfully exprest,
Seemed as the soul it had beguiled,
With the deep, secret, charming tone,
The dialect of the world unknown,
102
The spell of irresistible decree,
Of power to wake the dead from gloom,
And sway the spirits of earth and air
To her wild will, and magic doom,
The bane of Nature's order fair!
V.
“O thou, though in grey hermit-weeds,“Whose youth scarce life's first morn exceeds,
“Whose hands the beechen chalice bear,
“Moist with the balm to pale Despair,
“Vouchsafe a daughter of distress
“With that salubrious lymph to bless!
“Give me to drink the healing wave,
“My wearied lips with health to lave —
“So may my current-frozen blood
“Be, haply, by the genial flood,
“To vital motion wrought again! —
“And, if my prayer I may obtain,
“This offering to St. Loy I give,
“And, oh, the humble boon receive!
“No Lady, howe'er great or high,
103
“Accept this Purse — scant though it be,
“Know, 'tis of more a prophecy.”
VI.
The silken Purse, of magic art,Wrought exquisite in every part,
As though from woof ethereal spun,
With radiant hues bathed in the sun,
She fain to Edwy's hand would bind;
But he the gorgeous gift declined,
Though all its netted folds agnize
Pearl, gold, and gem of richest price.
His chalice, from the spring supplied,
He renders to her hands of pride.
“The waters of St. Loy are free,
“So be to all my charity.”
VII.
“Blest be this Spring!” — said that Lady so wild! —“That ne'er o'erflows, by no false bounty beguiled!
“The reviving draught I feel
“Glow throughout my veins, and steal
104
“That before, in snow and flame,
“Chilled and burnt with fierce extremes,
“And urged the soul to maddest themes!
“I may not pause to tell them now —
“Speed, Gratitude! to bless the hand
“That did to agony allow
“The cordial cup of solace bland.
“Now, by the fatal Sisters three!
“Without reward, such charity
“Shall ne'er be said was shewn to me —
“I know why ye from patience start,
“Why ye would hence, with furious heart —
“Ye, like the Fates, would mount your steeds,
“And scour the woods with slaughter,
“Vengeance to joy, while battle bleeds,
“For Love's fair Spouse, and infant Daughter.
“Stay — be not rash — that Robber's charms
“Can soon unnerve the strength of arms;
“Ye will before his sorcery stand
“At best but infants — or to stone
“Be stricken by his potent wand —
“Doth Agilnoth forget so soon
105
“So idly by his chill side down?
“But wait —” (and from her vest she took,
Of giant size, a golden book) —
VIII.
“Refuse not this — it doth contain“What all his charms shall render vain —
“Behold where now 'tis opened — see
“A spell! — oh, read it not to me!
“Or it would blast my youth with age,
“And storms in heaven — on earth — would rage!
“Yea, e'en this Well's blest virtues change —
“But spare ye not the robber Dane,
“And it shall work you out revenge,
“And turn his wiles on him again:
“Each fiend he sways, at your command
“Shall lift his free, avenging hand,
“Against his master, who controlled
“Him to his will, and spared him not,
“But chained him to his savage hold,
“A spirit to a mortal's lot!
106
IX.
“Yes! he falls! My Sisters, sing!“Ply the loom, and strike the string!
“Weave his fate with mickle mirth!
“The disdainful Son of Earth
“Crush in his rebellion's birth!
“Weave the disobedient's doom!
“Joy above the infernal loom!
“Give his soul to death and gloom! —
“Mortals! believe my prophecy —
“On this wondrous Book rely —
“It shall not fail — though now begun
“The God's dim twilight; and the sun,
“The human-race, the stars were void,
“By the power of Loke destroyed,
“Bursting from his tenfold chain,
“While antient Night resumed her reign,
“Her substantial mantle furled
“O'er the ruins of the World,
“In the Ocean's cavern'd gloom
“Sunk to its eternal doom,
“'Mid the flames that wrap the skies,
“Odin — all his Deities!”
107
X.
She is seen no more, — but into airResolved her form, and mingled there —
In Edwy's hand the Book is left,
That still involuntary clasped —
By wild astonishment bereft,
He knew not what he grasped —
As thus she melts away in wind,
And vanishes to nought;
His Brother, too, had not his mind
Been fixed on one great, master thought,
To more amazement had resigned —
Nor Almar 'gainst its influence fought
So well, had not the pride, combined,
Of age, and of first nature, brought
Resistance to o'ersudden fear,
Or credence to the forms of air.
XI.
In Edwy's hand he saw the Book,And thus the words of Wisdom spoke —
“Forego that Book — whate'er the spell —
“Howe'er it aid — 'tis wrought of Hell!
108
“Of Egypt, and a Nation brought
“Through parted sea, and banded host,
“And deserts, to his promised coast —
“In Him, in Him alone, confide,
“And follow where his beacon guide;
“And He — our toils and perils past —
“Will speed us into joy at last!
“Trust ye in Him, and in His Saint,
“Let not your eagle-spirits faint!” —
XII.
“Faint!” — said the Husband — faint! while she,“And Love, and Vengeance, call on me!
“Faint! while a Brother needs my aid
“For life or death!” — his Brother said —
And from his hand the Book he threw —
It fired as it fell,
And vanished from their dazzled view
Within the flaming spell.
But now by magic art no more
May their impetuous course be stayed;
Their guardian Saint involved them o'er
With air condensed, and thickened shade:
109
By Vengeance urged, and Heaven, and Love!
XIII.
No thought may sway the Husband's breastSave Love — and Vengeance fell,
For Daughter lost, and Spouse possessed
By giant Robber's wizard spell!
But Edwy feels, 'mid vengeance, rise
Desire to know his Brother's fate,
And, with increasing fervor, plies
Him briefly to relate.
Though scarce his tale might gathered be
From his distracted words, and wild,
He found their fates did still agree,
By Fortune ne'er from Faith beguiled.
Delivered from the raging main,
He sought his natal home again,
But proved, his dearest hopes destroyed,
The world without his Brother void —
Till that blest beam his soul which cheered,
Consoled his sorrows, and endeared —
110
“She is bereaved from me now!
“To her, my lost, my better part,
“What is the world? — yea, what art thou?
“Each moment is eternity
“Till fate restore that beam to me,
“And vengeance for my infant Daughter
“Stamp in characters of slaughter!
“Till then there is no peace for me
“In earth, nor heaven — nor yet in thee!”
XIV.
From him hath Almar gathered aught,'Tis buried in his silent thought,
Though his brow-knitted eyes avow
There's that within he would not show.
Whate'er it be, his Pride, I ween,
Forbids the secret to be seen,
Lest that a Father's wild despair
May for a phantom stoop to err —
No! — he till certainty assure
Belief, the torture will endure,
That if the Truth approve it fond
It go not his own breast beyond.
111
XV.
That Pride, nor Remorse nor Despair had erasedFrom the bosom where first it by Nature was placed;
Nor loneliness, nor quietude —
Though they had of occasion reft it
So oft to shew its haughty mood,
Yet as they found they left it;
Nature what man hath e'er subdued,
Her throne to disinherit?
Who can tame her high soul To his own control?
Who curb her giant spirit?
Though the Tempest may sleep, and the Ocean be mild,
Blow the blast but again — and again they are wild!
The Oak, though scathed by thunder,
Still shews that it hath been the king of the hill,
Though shorn of its leaves, majestic and hoar,
'Tis stately in ruin, as glory before; —
And Nature will be Nature still
Though the heart be rent asunder.
XVI.
Pause ye — and linger at the sceneWhere conflagration late hath been —
112
The livid flame, about t' expire —
The oaks, seared with the sparks, so fast
Thickening upon the midnight blast —
The cattle in amazement met,
From terror scarce recovered yet —
The smoke, around that dusky wreaths
Over the desolated heaths —
The face of ruin and affright —
Confess the horrors of the night.
Thy dwelling-place of joy was this,
O Agilnoth! — what is it now?
There was thy chamber of nuptial bliss,
The crown of the mutual vow.
There on thy Daughter's innocence
The father's heart was poured immense —
And there — 'mid the noise of the crashing beam —
Her loveliness was clouded!
And, oh God! — there she sank, with a soul-piercing scream,
In the volume of flames darkly shrouded! —
113
XVII.
That pang subdued, towards the skyLifts Agilnoth his pensive eye;
And Gratitude, amid his woes,
In this soul-uttered vow arose:—
Upon that spot of fate, St. Loy!
The avenger of his rifled joy!
To thee to consecrate a fane,
Thy Offertory;
“The Offertory of St. Loy is a poore house sitvate on
the West side of the sayd rode.
When this began, I confess, I cannot as yet learne.”
Bedwell.
Eld not having accounted for the cause of the dedication of the Altar of St. Loy, surely the Poet has undoubted licence so to do. Besides this, it serves to locate the dwelling of Agilnoth.
For soon the holy fabric stood
A trophy of his gratitude!
Now Agilnoth more urgent grew,
And if of Almar aught he knew,
Impatient Vengeance might not stay
To pierce his eremite array.
XVIII.
They thrid the wood, and climb the hill,Still upward wend, unwearied still —
Though high the hill, and vast the wood,
And thick the forest brethren stood —
Thou, wizard Wood of Toteham's brow,
An Omen to the valley thou!
“When Tottenham Wood is all on Fire,
“Then Tottenham Street is nought but Mire.
“Then Tottenham Street is nought but Mire.
The occasion of this prouerbe arose from a great Wood, called Tottenham Wood, of many hundred akers, upon the top of an high hill in the West end of the parish, which may easily be seene of all those which dwell elsewher in the same, as also in Edelmton, and into Essex. It is obserued, that whensoeuer a foggy thicke mist doth arise out of this Wood, and hang ouer it, or houer aboute it in manner of a smoake, that it's generally a signe of raine and foule weather; and in rayny weather, the streate lying very lowe, although gravelly, is for the most part drown'd or ouerflowed with water. This, therefore, to them, and to those adjoining neighbours, is in this case in sted of a prognostication: the like vse doe the inhabitants of Staffordshire, and other their neer neighbours, make of Snowden Hills, in Wales, and Malborne Hills, in Worcestershire.”
Bedwell.
114
When mist involves thy fiery breast,
Dark as on Snowdon lowers,
In many an eddying volume rolled;
The trembling tenants of the Wold,
Prophetic of the showers,
Dread the dark augury of the Flood,
Which, aye to make thy warning good,
Still on their harvest pours,
And sorrow o'er the deluged plain,
Which Hope had blessed, but blessed in vain!
And ever superstitious Eld,
As oft as she the Fog beheld,
Accused the spirits ill,
Who haunted then the wildering Wood,
And raised the portent of the Flood
That mantled o'er the hill;
And laughed to see the ruin spread,
And triumphed in the peasant's dread:
But now she smiles to see
The winter morn so clear and blue,
The wood of such a snowy hue,
From cloud and vapour free;
115
Had passed, when many a wicked sprite
Joyously revelled there:
And lo, the hill no threatening bore,
And the calm azure sweetly wore
A look of promise fair —
But through the Wood of Toteham Hill
They wind their way the while,
All silent and invisible,
Regardless of her smile.
XIX.
Thou giant Dane! feel'st thou not nowThe dew of terror chill thy brow?
Nor thy haunted cavern shake,
Which enchanted arts did make?
Nor thy secret spells forego
Their prompt obedience to thy low,
Yet potent, murmurs? Sway they still
Reluctant spirits to thy will?
Or is Danger mute, though nigh?
And still Revolt and Treachery?
That, plunged from false security
116
Thy fall may be more terrible.
Nor amulet, nor talisman,
Nor sword of Solomon — nor all
Wherewith the enchanted Orient can
Hold mortal man in magic thrall;
Nor all the incantations wild
Of Greece, and of Hesperia old —
Though he, a favored wizard child,
Their universal power controlled —
Could save him from the sainted sword
Of Justice and of Heaven,
That hath his horrid haunts explored,
To Love and Vengeance given —
Yet still in proud contempt he stands
Over that Lady prostrate there,
Who clasps his knees with phrenzied hands,
Her eyes without a tear,
Haggard in anguish, to demand
Her death from his blood-practised hand.
XX.
“Kill thee! what blast the fragrant root,“Ere tasted the delicious fruit?
117
“That vainly thy Husband should fall as he fell!
“Not so did my fathers — the sons of the wave —
“From Scandinia's stern Desart—the nurse of the brave—
“With a conqueror's hand when they seized on the gold,
“And the shrines of the vanquished, that could not impart
“To their owners the spirit of Victory bold,
“The spirit of Valor! the life of the heart!
“They took from the Virgin the bloom of her flower,
“Grew rich on its sweetness, and prized her the hour —
“Then I grant that they left her to fade or to flourish;
“To fall by the sword, or her shame sadly nourish.
“But be joyful, my fair! — between their fate and thine
“The distinction is wide — only less than divine,
“Thou shalt be my queen — in my love aye delight,
“The balm of my toil, and the joy of my night.
“For ever and ever my heart thou shalt share,
“Secure of my faith, and exempted from care —
“The Lord thou lamentest so much could not love;
“I but freed thee from him to exalt thee above —
118
XXI.
“Think not that 'twas plunder which fired thy dwelling;“'Twas Love, in despair strong — all other excelling!
“On a moon-sheeny eve, when thy Husband and thou
“Enjoyed the soft breeze, and the sun's setting glow —
“I beheld thee!—and instant my breast was on flame!
“Then what was — except thine own beauty — to blame?
“Thee then, in wild fury, I sought to divide
“From thy lord, thy protector, thy strength at thy side: —
“But my charms they all failed me, as Jealousy had
“Them withered, who even drives Wisdom's self mad!
“But my Love was no coward, to yield to the storms,
“Much less to a breath — when the cause was thy charms.
“Be happy! — oblivion veil over the dead! —
“Rejoice in thy fortune — be free from all dread —
“Lo! spirits and men to thy will are subdued,
“Thou spouse of great Lothbroch! the Queen of the Wood!”
XXII.
The sword of vengeance is bared, yet they
Who bare it for a moment stay —
Whether the Saint controls their course
To unutterable pause, perforce,
That the impatient faulchion may
Be sharpened with reserve to slay —
Or them free choice, with like design.
Awhile such scene to scan incline,
The minstrel skills not to divine.
Who bare it for a moment stay —
Whether the Saint controls their course
To unutterable pause, perforce,
119
Be sharpened with reserve to slay —
Or them free choice, with like design.
Awhile such scene to scan incline,
The minstrel skills not to divine.
To see her kneeling at his feet,
'Twas like an angel to a fiend,
As Sin had won the blessed seat,
And Hell her Heaven lost regained: —
So urgently to hear her plead
For death from his remorseless steel,
'Twas like the song of sadness made
By the sweet, love-lorn nightingale,
That, in some melancholy cave,
Invokes the hand which robbed her nest
To join her with them in the grave,
That she may be at rest!
'Twas like an angel to a fiend,
As Sin had won the blessed seat,
And Hell her Heaven lost regained: —
So urgently to hear her plead
For death from his remorseless steel,
'Twas like the song of sadness made
By the sweet, love-lorn nightingale,
That, in some melancholy cave,
Invokes the hand which robbed her nest
To join her with them in the grave,
That she may be at rest!
XXIII.
“Talk not of love! hate be the theme“Of raving agony extreme!
“Each horrid cell re-echo still
120
“Resound, ye demons of his spell,
“The same on earth! the same in hell!
“Till all around, above, below,
“It rive his maddened spirit so
“It start his stained steel from its sheath,
“And dole my invocated death!
“And wed me with my Husband slain,
“My martyred, innocent child, again!
“Or if thou love me — hear me still —
“And, if thine heart may know to feel,
“Let thy sword free me from my woe!
“Which is not hard for thee to do.
XXIV.
“A Father spurned me from his breast,“Because I loved whom he forbade;
“Nor elsewhere might my sorrows rest
“Than in the bosom of the dead!
“He too was in the world alone,
“And sought the scenes of memory,
“Where he his youth's past joys might own,
“And bless himself with them and me.
121
“Nor be our lovely child forgot —
“Her cherub smiles our bark attended —
“In death divide us not!
“United in felicity,
“Why separate in woe?
“Why two caught up into the sky,
“And left the third below?
“In that blest world, without me — he
“Must feel a want in bliss;
“Nor can his joys all-perfect be
“While I remain in this!”
XXV.
“It is! it is my child!” —The Robber heard,
Yea felt, the Father's bursting word,
And rolled around his anxious eye,
That met no object to reply:
That friendly shade conceals them still
From the astonished Robber's ken,
And on the Lady Arabel
He wildly gazed — and gazed again —
122
Had risen above its stern control!
Like the waters, confined
In a barrier of mountains,
Burst at length from behind
Their strong cataract fountains;
Like the stream from her cave
Breaks the ice that late bound her,
Rolls her bright-gushing wave
To the spring-banks around her;
Like the sun from wintry solstice freed,
Rejoicing o'er the wonted mead;
Like exile brought to native shore,
All — all his years of sorrow o'er! —
Thus sprung old Almar's heart on high,
And flowed and beat in extacy;
And with quick-mingling joys confessed
The feelings pride had long repressed —
XXVI.
“My Arabel! my injured child!“But oh! to meet thee thus at last, —
“Remorse might drive my spirit wild,
“And all be dreary as the past!
123
“Canst thou forgive my haughty heart
“That urged thy Brother still to woe,
“Whereof the present is but part?
“Or can he, 'mid his vengeance, throw
“A thought on me, that would not start
“His sword? — thy sword, O Agilnoth,
“And make me Lothbroch to thy wrath!”
Here Agilnoth found words, and turned
His eyes from her for whom they burned —
“If thou be he in hermit weeds
“From whom my Arabel proceeds,
“Who loves thee still — the cause of age
“Shall wet the steel to keener rage,
“That I may gain thy full esteem,
“And all my past offence redeem.”
XXVII.
The waters to their level tend,And speed with kindred streams to blend;
Each atom hasteneth to embrace,
Attracted to the next in place;
And soul to mutual soul replies,
And heart with heart to mingle flies;
124
But longed to break the guardian shade;
With all the husband in his heart,
He sprung unto his Arabel;
The Saint was present on their part,
And joined them in the friendly veil:
At once, to the Dane's fierce surprize,
She vanished from his bloodshot eyes —
But she, with faithful kisses prest,
Is pillowed on her Husband's breast!
XXVIII.
Thus snatched from fate, it seemed a visionOf Fancy, bathed in dreams Elysian,
That from the ruthless grave restored
Her lost and all-lamented Lord:
And still she looked from her assay
To find him melt a shade away.
She feels him — doubtful to explore,
With phrenzied gaze — each feature o'er:
He moves — his lips to hers are prest —
His heart throbs on her heaving breast —
She is unutterably blest!
125
That on her very spirit sate —
One thrilling shriek burst wildly forth,
And bent her helpless to the earth —
She shivered — sank — but not to ground —
Her Husband's arms have clasped her round;
Her head reclines upon his bosom,
As on its stem the withering blossom —
So sad — so wild — so still was she —
So motionless and silent he —
They seemed but marble forms of life —
The Husband, and swoon-sunken Wife!
XXIX.
But thou! — 'tis not thy spell's controlBenumbs the frame, and clasps the soul —
Wizard! — whose ghastly eyes declare
Thou feelst superior power near,
That hath thy peerless prize bereft,
Triumphant in the glorious theft —
“Voices! but where are they who spake?”
Why dost thou fear, and quail, and quake? —
126
Is scorned both by thy charms and thee —
“She's vanished — gone — but how, and where?
“She was of earthly mould, though fair,
“And could not melt away in air.” —
Thou art perplexed in thine own wiles,
Taken in thine own netted toils —
Thus the fierce Lion foams and frets,
Entangled in the snare — and threats;
Remembering not that they who spread
The pitfall which deceived his tread,
Are strangers as himself to dread;
And well his fallen power disdain,
His strength — his terrors — all, in vain!
END OF CANTO THE THIRD.
| The Legend of St. Loy | |