University of Virginia Library

MERLIN, THE BARD.

I.

“List, list to me, good grandam mine: I to the feast would go,
Where holds the king a royal race in kingly pomp and show.”
“Thou shalt not to this feast, my son. I do not hide my fears;
Thou shalt not to this feast, I say, for thy cheek is wet with tears.
An' I can stop thee, dearest son, thither thou may'st not go,
For in thy dreams the hot tears fell like rain in wintry flow.”
“Kind mother, little mother mine, seek not thy son to keep.”
“In going thither thou shalt sing, returning thou shalt weep.”

II.

III.

“Kind grandam mine, dear grandam mine, as thou dost love me well,
I pray thee by thy love to me, forthwith thy counsel tell;
Or else this weary heart will break, its strings will break with woe,
And to the grave at once I'll pass, and lie the green sod below.”
“This had not been,” his grandam said, “had'st thou my bidding done;
But weep no more, dear child of mine, the harp shall be thine own.
Then weep no more, my grandson dear, this golden hammer take,
Beneath its stroke no sound is heard, it falls like white snow-flake.”

IV.

V.

Before the king at early morn again the young man stood,
Who at that sight rose up at once in dazed and wondering mood;
Astonished, too, were all the men gathered in presence there,
And eyed the youth all o'er and o'er, with amazed and anxious stare.
“Behold his bride he's won,” they cry, “his bride he's nobly won;
And she shall be his lawful wife in the sight of yonder sun.”
The king now and his son withdrew, and the old man he retires,
But soon returning with them both, the king spake his desires:
“'Tis true, my son, as thou hast heard, this day thou'st won thy wife;
There's only one thing more I ask, I swear it by my life.
It is the last,—in doing this, thou shalt be my true son,
My daughter then shall be thy bride, and all Leon is thine own.
By my forefathers' bones, bring here great Merlin to our sight,
And when he comes, I swear that he shall bless the marriage rite.”

VI.

“Oh, Merlin, Bard! whence comest thou in weeds so sad and torn—
Where goest thou with naked feet, bare head, and face forlorn?
Oh whither, say, in this sad plight, old Merlin, dost thou go,
With oaken staff, and troubled brow, and eyes that overflow?”
“Seeking my harp in this sad world, my consolation sole,—
Seeking my harp, and eke my ring,—their loss has brought me dole.”
“Merlin, old Merlin, grieve thou not, let these tidings soothe thy pain,
Not lost are either harp or ring, they shall be thine again;
Come in, come in, poor Merlin, and take some meat with me.”
“No! no! I cannot cease my walk, nor eat nor drink with thee;
No food shall ever pass these lips till I my harp have found:
Till this is done, the world I pace in one long weary round.”
“Merlin, oh Merlin! heed me now, and thou thy harp shalt find.”
So sore she pressed him that at last she won upon his mind,
And then he comes into her house, and quietly sits down;
But still all woeful is his heart, and his tears they flow adown.
At evening comes the old dame's son, and finds old Merlin there;
He shakes with fear as he glances round, and sees the minstrel's chair.
The minstrel's head droops on his breast, sleep binds him in its chain,
The son he thinks he now can flee from his mother's house amain.
“Hush, hush, my child, fear not at all, Merlin is wrapt in sleep;
You need not fear that he will start from out his slumber deep.
Three ruddy apples, fair to see, I in the embers laid,
These roasted well, I gave to him; hush, son! be not afraid;
He ate the three, he'll follow thee wherever thou dost go,
Through forest dark, o'er mountain high, or in the valley low.”

VII.