Poems By William Bell Scott. Ballads, Studies from Nature, Sonnets, etc. Illustrated by Seventeen Etchings by the Author and L. Alma Tadema |
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13
II
Beyond the sound of the widening beck
He rode to the river strand,
And at her bower-door on the island
He saw the good Kriemhild stand.
He rode to the river strand,
And at her bower-door on the island
He saw the good Kriemhild stand.
Behind her too, on either side,
Her bower-maids, a sister pair,
Clad both the same in sea-green serge,
Trimmed with the minnevair.
Her bower-maids, a sister pair,
Clad both the same in sea-green serge,
Trimmed with the minnevair.
But her long waist was in white say,
Looped up with knops of gold;
For she was the heiress of the land,
And towns with garth and wold.
Looped up with knops of gold;
For she was the heiress of the land,
And towns with garth and wold.
Along yon further shore you see
Her castle walls and tower;
But she had planned the tryste to be
Within her island-bower.
Her castle walls and tower;
But she had planned the tryste to be
Within her island-bower.
So these green-kirtled serving-maids,
They ferried him o'er the tide;—
As he leaned and looked in the tangled deep,
What was it he descried?
They ferried him o'er the tide;—
As he leaned and looked in the tangled deep,
What was it he descried?
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What was it? for he backward shrank,
And made the light bark sway,
Till it grated against the landing steps,—
He seemed to have lost his way.
And made the light bark sway,
Till it grated against the landing steps,—
He seemed to have lost his way.
The lady then came stepping down
Towards him in surprise;
Sudden he seized her two white hands,
And bowed to hide his eyes.
Towards him in surprise;
Sudden he seized her two white hands,
And bowed to hide his eyes.
With that the distant warder blew
A note from the highest tower;
Startled, he kissed her two white hands,
And they passed within the bower.
A note from the highest tower;
Startled, he kissed her two white hands,
And they passed within the bower.
‘I wonder much,’ quoth fair Joanne
To her sister Claribee,
‘What made him wince when that great fish
Swam up so bonnily?’
To her sister Claribee,
‘What made him wince when that great fish
Swam up so bonnily?’
Each side the door then sat they down,
With lutes of cedar wood;
Joan sang this song, and Claribee,
She made the refrain good.
Quoth the wanderer, I have journeyed far,
With lutes of cedar wood;
Joan sang this song, and Claribee,
She made the refrain good.
Oh, give me wine and bread!
Is the popinjay merry?
15
I prithee now make my bed;
The heart is as cold as stone.
For, alas! I am wounded deep and sore,
And you must salve my wound:
Is the popinjay merry?
With her balsam sweet that lady-leech
She made him whole and sound.
The heart is as cold as stone.
Anon, when again he was whole and well,
He said she must marry him;
Is the popinjay merry?
And so it fell out that she called the priest,
All in the twilight dim.
The heart is as cold as stone.
But when the wedding-ring touched her hand,
I must leave you, love, quoth he;
Is the popinjay merry?
For I have a wife in a far-off town,
Across the weary sea.
The heart is as cold as stone.
But she would not now by wind or wave
That he should go away;
Is the popinjay merry?
So she made Sir Merlin weave a spell,
He could not choose but stay.
The heart is as cold as stone.
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Though he strove with might and main;
Is the popinjay merry?
The wife he had left in the far-off land
He never would see again.
The heart is as cold as stone.
Scarce ended they, a quivering flame
Winnowed the sultry air,
And a surf running up as from sea-wind
Lapped the green margin there.
The damsels laughed at the silvery foam
That ran back again as fast;
Then tightened the cords of their gitterns,
And sang against the blast:
But as they sang a darkness fell,
And hail-stones rattled past.
HÆC.
Rest ye now from all your pain,
My heart's delight, my found-again.
ILLE.
Found again, but full of pyne
Thou art also, mistress mine.
HÆC.
Yea, but now we'll make amend;
The years of tears have reached their end.
17
Tears and years—oh, many a one
Since my wand'rings were begun!
HÆC.
Wanderings here and there away,
Never done at close of day.
ILLE.
Never done, but hankering still
For the old days of wild freewill.
HÆC.
Childish days when, ages gone,
We foster-children lived alone.
ILLE.
Lived and loved, for then we knew
Where the sweetest apple grew.
HÆC.
But once, alas! you plucked it down,
And wrapt it in my guiltless gown.
ILLE.
Plucked and shared it, rind and core;
Yet the sun set as before.
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The sun set, but it rose no more;
It went down, and life shut the door.
ILLE.
Shut, but we shall entrance gain;—
Behold! the sun wakes up again.
HÆC.
Another sweet apple upon the tree—
Lovers in dead years, can they see?
ILLE.
See and pluck, rind, core, and pips,
Part and share with hungry lips.
HÆC.
Part and share, but alas! it drips—
Drips with blood,—My heart's delight!
Our hearts are torn in mirk midnight.
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