Irish Songs and Poems By William Allingham: Second Edition: With Nine Airs for Voice and Pianoforte, and a Permanent Photograph of the Waterfall of Asaroe |
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 | Irish Songs and Poems |  |
13
II.
Along the level sands I heard
The mystic water, how it stirr'd
And whisper'd of the days of old,
While Sun touch'd ocean, sank,—and soon
Eastward a tawny vaporous Moon
Rose ghostlike, to that solemn tune
Of waves. A path of ruddy gold,
Of yellow gold, in turn unroll'd
Full to my feet. Without a word,
I heard an ancient story told.
The mystic water, how it stirr'd
And whisper'd of the days of old,
While Sun touch'd ocean, sank,—and soon
Eastward a tawny vaporous Moon
Rose ghostlike, to that solemn tune
Of waves. A path of ruddy gold,
Of yellow gold, in turn unroll'd
Full to my feet. Without a word,
I heard an ancient story told.
A Princess of the sea, a Prince
Of the West Isle,—and never since
Was any fairer couple wed
Or loved each other more. As fled
Month after month, year after year,
Their love grew every day more dear,
Glad, sad, together, or apart;
Tender they were, and true of heart.
Of the West Isle,—and never since
Was any fairer couple wed
Or loved each other more. As fled
Month after month, year after year,
Their love grew every day more dear,
Glad, sad, together, or apart;
Tender they were, and true of heart.
Askest what love is? Hast thou known
Love's true religion? from thy own
Learn all true lovers' creed; there is
No other way to learn but this.
The best things thou hast found or dream'd—
Howso they new and special seem'd,
Most intimately thine,—are part
Of Man's inheritance; thou art
Co-heir with many. That bright Road,
Where only wingèd Fancy trode,
Stretch'd on the wave by moon or sun,
Did over darkling waters run
Directly to the gazer's feet,—
And was not thus; and yet no cheat.
If any radiancy divine
Doth straight into thy spirit shine,
Lo, it is thine—not singly thine.
The wondrous light that shone to thee
A child, the children saw, and see;
And Love's wide-spread celestial glow
To each peculiarly doth flow.
If thou hast been a lover, so
These loved in by-gone days.
Love's true religion? from thy own
Learn all true lovers' creed; there is
No other way to learn but this.
The best things thou hast found or dream'd—
Howso they new and special seem'd,
Most intimately thine,—are part
Of Man's inheritance; thou art
Co-heir with many. That bright Road,
14
Stretch'd on the wave by moon or sun,
Did over darkling waters run
Directly to the gazer's feet,—
And was not thus; and yet no cheat.
If any radiancy divine
Doth straight into thy spirit shine,
Lo, it is thine—not singly thine.
The wondrous light that shone to thee
A child, the children saw, and see;
And Love's wide-spread celestial glow
To each peculiarly doth flow.
If thou hast been a lover, so
These loved in by-gone days.
Befell
One spring-day, from the circling mound,
Where her Sun-chamber builded well
Look'd wide on all the prospect round,
Fair Merraunee watch'd the sea
(For thus she chose her name to be),
Her two young sons beside her knee.
Her solemn eyes of changeful blue
Larger, it seem'd, and darker grew,
And mournful as they never were
Till now. The children gazed on her,
With awe of that strange mournfulness,
The sense whereof they might not guess.
But youth still turns to thoughts of joy,
And quickly spake the younger Boy,
‘O Mother! would we had a boat
Upon these merry waves afloat,
To sail away and leave the land!’
The elder Brother shouted—‘I
Would dive beneath the waves, and spy
Who live there!’
One spring-day, from the circling mound,
Where her Sun-chamber builded well
Look'd wide on all the prospect round,
Fair Merraunee watch'd the sea
(For thus she chose her name to be),
Her two young sons beside her knee.
Her solemn eyes of changeful blue
Larger, it seem'd, and darker grew,
And mournful as they never were
Till now. The children gazed on her,
With awe of that strange mournfulness,
The sense whereof they might not guess.
But youth still turns to thoughts of joy,
And quickly spake the younger Boy,
‘O Mother! would we had a boat
Upon these merry waves afloat,
To sail away and leave the land!’
The elder Brother shouted—‘I
Would dive beneath the waves, and spy
Who live there!’
Nothing did she say,
But stared upon them, seized a hand
Of each, and hurried them away.
Then, to her husband, ‘Grant me grace!’
She said, ‘and take me from this place!
The moaning restless water kills
All peace within me, day or night,
And soon will be my death outright;
Take me to inland woods and hills.
I love the quiet grassy earth,
Calm lakes, tree-shadows, wild birds' mirth,
I hate this heaving watery floor,
Its ceaseless voices, more and more.
Take me away!—O love, forgive!’
He marvell'd; but he loved her best
Of all things, and on this behest
Sought out an inland place to live.
But stared upon them, seized a hand
15
Then, to her husband, ‘Grant me grace!’
She said, ‘and take me from this place!
The moaning restless water kills
All peace within me, day or night,
And soon will be my death outright;
Take me to inland woods and hills.
I love the quiet grassy earth,
Calm lakes, tree-shadows, wild birds' mirth,
I hate this heaving watery floor,
Its ceaseless voices, more and more.
Take me away!—O love, forgive!’
He marvell'd; but he loved her best
Of all things, and on this behest
Sought out an inland place to live.
Amid the hills, wide-forested,
With rocky pastures interspread,
The sky is in a placid lake,
Steep-shored, transparent-water'd, lonely,—
A bed of reeds at one place only,
'Twixt the water and the brake.
There, driving many an oaken stake
Into the shallow, skilful hands
A stedfast island-dwelling make,
Seen from the hill-tops like a fleet
Of wattled houses; beams of oak
Fix them; and soon a light blue smoke
Goes up across the crowd of trees,
Where greening Spring is busy anew,
Dark holly intermixt, and yew,
And here and there a hoary rock.
With rocky pastures interspread,
The sky is in a placid lake,
Steep-shored, transparent-water'd, lonely,—
A bed of reeds at one place only,
'Twixt the water and the brake.
There, driving many an oaken stake
Into the shallow, skilful hands
A stedfast island-dwelling make,
Seen from the hill-tops like a fleet
Of wattled houses; beams of oak
Fix them; and soon a light blue smoke
Goes up across the crowd of trees,
Where greening Spring is busy anew,
Dark holly intermixt, and yew,
And here and there a hoary rock.
The wolf, the wild-cat, and the bear
Prowl'd in these woods or made their lair;
Strange yells at midnight came, or oft
At dead of night, while safe and soft
Within their Island-Houses slept,
On rushy mat and woollen cloak
And fur of beast, the Prince's folk,
Save who in turn the nightwatch kept;
The Prince himself, and Merraunee,
And two brave Boys, where they should be;
While, underneath, the ripple crept,
And morning rose behind the hills.
Prowl'd in these woods or made their lair;
Strange yells at midnight came, or oft
At dead of night, while safe and soft
Within their Island-Houses slept,
On rushy mat and woollen cloak
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Save who in turn the nightwatch kept;
The Prince himself, and Merraunee,
And two brave Boys, where they should be;
While, underneath, the ripple crept,
And morning rose behind the hills.
There bide they while the Spring refills
Earth's cup with life-wine to the brink,
And every creature joys to drink.
They fish'd, they hunted, ranged afar
Through labyrinthine woods, made war
On catamount and cruel wolf;
And, three times, Dalachmar himself
Spear-smote the spreading-antler'd elk
And dash'd to ground his mighty bulk.
They drove the milky kine to feed
In forest lawn and marshy mead,
Or swam their wolf-hounds, pure of breed,
Or hollow'd the tree-trunk for canoe,
Made nets and lines, and bows of yew,
Goblets, and other things of wood
For a hundred uses good,
Nor bare of carving. Merraunee,
Span with her tall handmaidens three,
Taught her sons whate'er she could,
Tended the household well, prepared
The evening feast which all folk shared;
Then gladly heard the minstrel sing
His tales, or touched herself the string
(But seldom this) to music strange
Floating through many a subtle change;
And thus fled summertime away.
Earth's cup with life-wine to the brink,
And every creature joys to drink.
They fish'd, they hunted, ranged afar
Through labyrinthine woods, made war
On catamount and cruel wolf;
And, three times, Dalachmar himself
Spear-smote the spreading-antler'd elk
And dash'd to ground his mighty bulk.
They drove the milky kine to feed
In forest lawn and marshy mead,
Or swam their wolf-hounds, pure of breed,
Or hollow'd the tree-trunk for canoe,
Made nets and lines, and bows of yew,
Goblets, and other things of wood
For a hundred uses good,
Nor bare of carving. Merraunee,
Span with her tall handmaidens three,
Taught her sons whate'er she could,
Tended the household well, prepared
The evening feast which all folk shared;
Then gladly heard the minstrel sing
His tales, or touched herself the string
(But seldom this) to music strange
Floating through many a subtle change;
And thus fled summertime away.
‘Art thou at peace?’ he said one day,
Kissing her lips. ‘O Dalachmar!
Lov'st thou me yet? Thou dost, I know,
But still I'd have thee tell me so!’
Kissing her lips. ‘O Dalachmar!
Lov'st thou me yet? Thou dost, I know,
But still I'd have thee tell me so!’
I loved thee first ten years ago;
And now I love thee better far.
Nay, thou hast kept thy bloom of youth
All perfect.’
17
Nay, thou hast kept thy bloom of youth
All perfect.’
‘Dalachmar, in sooth,
There is my sorrow! I can see
A touch or two of time on thee,
Dearer for this,—but—may thy wife
Now tell thee somewhat of the life
Of those beneath the waves, and teach
What I have always shunn'd in speech,
Nay, shunn'd in thought?—but year by year
Brings the inevitable near.
There is my sorrow! I can see
A touch or two of time on thee,
Dearer for this,—but—may thy wife
Now tell thee somewhat of the life
Of those beneath the waves, and teach
What I have always shunn'd in speech,
Nay, shunn'd in thought?—but year by year
Brings the inevitable near.
‘In those vast kingdoms under sea,
Dusky at noontide, some there be
Of mine, a magic race, that dwell,
And how we came there none can tell,
Imperial mid the monstrous forms
Of Ocean's creeping, gliding swarms;
We live three hundred years or more,
Three hundred years, and sometimes four,
And then—ah misery! and then—
Dusky at noontide, some there be
Of mine, a magic race, that dwell,
And how we came there none can tell,
Imperial mid the monstrous forms
Of Ocean's creeping, gliding swarms;
We live three hundred years or more,
Three hundred years, and sometimes four,
And then—ah misery! and then—
‘I said, It is not so with men
Of that bright Upper World, who breathe
Crystalline ether, live beneath
The great dominion of the Sun
And Starry Night—(O Night with Stars!).
Sure nothing there, I said, debars
Or daunts them, be it life or death,
Inspired with such transcendent breath,
And clear Infinity begun!
Of that bright Upper World, who breathe
Crystalline ether, live beneath
The great dominion of the Sun
And Starry Night—(O Night with Stars!).
Sure nothing there, I said, debars
Or daunts them, be it life or death,
Inspired with such transcendent breath,
And clear Infinity begun!
‘Fearful our visits, short and rare,
To your unbounded World of Air,
By an old secret, told to few,
And perilous of proof. I knew
The danger, but I loved it too;
And sometimes, good or evil hap,
Would even doff that precious Cap
Which all beneath the sea must wear,
Because I thus felt greater share
Of earth-life, an unwonted sense
Of fearful hope and joy intense
Commingling,—seem'd almost to rise
And float immortal through those skies
Without a limit.
To your unbounded World of Air,
By an old secret, told to few,
And perilous of proof. I knew
The danger, but I loved it too;
And sometimes, good or evil hap,
Would even doff that precious Cap
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Because I thus felt greater share
Of earth-life, an unwonted sense
Of fearful hope and joy intense
Commingling,—seem'd almost to rise
And float immortal through those skies
Without a limit.
‘I have proved
Earth's life and love, through thee, Belov'd
And through thee, happy. Former days
Withdrew into a distant haze;
First I had Thee, then twofold bliss,
And threefold: better lot than this
Heart could not dream of—might it stay.
Earth's life and love, through thee, Belov'd
And through thee, happy. Former days
Withdrew into a distant haze;
First I had Thee, then twofold bliss,
And threefold: better lot than this
Heart could not dream of—might it stay.
‘It smote me suddenly one day,
Like arrow from an unseen bow,
A poison'd arrow—He must go,
And thou remain! He shall wax old
Ere fifth part of thy life be told,
And die, and leave thee desolate,
With all the endless years to wait!
My sons too—'tis not death I fear;
If we all die, then death is dear;
But long sad lonely life. O Sea,
At least thou hast a death for me!
Nay, husband, kiss me, clasp me tight,
Albeit I lack the human right
Of growing old along with thee!’
Like arrow from an unseen bow,
A poison'd arrow—He must go,
And thou remain! He shall wax old
Ere fifth part of thy life be told,
And die, and leave thee desolate,
With all the endless years to wait!
My sons too—'tis not death I fear;
If we all die, then death is dear;
But long sad lonely life. O Sea,
At least thou hast a death for me!
Nay, husband, kiss me, clasp me tight,
Albeit I lack the human right
Of growing old along with thee!’
She wept; he sooth'd her as he could
And cheer'd her to a brighter mood.
But grief came shadowing back; and when
Dark autumn gain'd on wood and fen
She felt the moaning of the trees
Was worse to suffer than the sea's.
‘It taunts us with the distant shore—
Return we!’
And cheer'd her to a brighter mood.
But grief came shadowing back; and when
Dark autumn gain'd on wood and fen
She felt the moaning of the trees
Was worse to suffer than the sea's.
‘It taunts us with the distant shore—
Return we!’
19
They return'd. Once more
The salt gale stirr'd her robes and hair,
But could not breathe away her care;
The trouble grew, the sad unrest,
And most of all when moony nights
Whiten'd the surf, or spread afar
O'er lonely tracts of sea. His best
Of comforting tried Dalachmar;
Beyond the hour availing nought,
For in their lives a change was wrought.
The salt gale stirr'd her robes and hair,
But could not breathe away her care;
The trouble grew, the sad unrest,
And most of all when moony nights
Whiten'd the surf, or spread afar
O'er lonely tracts of sea. His best
Of comforting tried Dalachmar;
Beyond the hour availing nought,
For in their lives a change was wrought.
One dreamy afternoon, while She
Sat gazing on the doleful sea,
She saw her Husband by her stand,
The Cap of Magic in his hand,
His face was ashy, his voice low
And hollow, and his words came slow:
‘My strange dear Lady of the Sea,
If thou hast mind to part from me
And live no longer on the land,
Take this, and let thy choice be free.’
She did not speak, she did not look;
As in a trance the Cap she took.
At its touch a tremor shook
Suddenly through her, from head to feet,
And back she lay in the carven seat,
With staring eyes and visage wan,
As though she were at point to die;
Then started up with sudden cry—
‘O Dalachmar!’—but he was gone.
Sat gazing on the doleful sea,
She saw her Husband by her stand,
The Cap of Magic in his hand,
His face was ashy, his voice low
And hollow, and his words came slow:
‘My strange dear Lady of the Sea,
If thou hast mind to part from me
And live no longer on the land,
Take this, and let thy choice be free.’
She did not speak, she did not look;
As in a trance the Cap she took.
At its touch a tremor shook
Suddenly through her, from head to feet,
And back she lay in the carven seat,
With staring eyes and visage wan,
As though she were at point to die;
Then started up with sudden cry—
‘O Dalachmar!’—but he was gone.
And none saw Her go; nor found trace;
Nor henceforth look'd upon her face.
From that hour, empty was her place.
Nor henceforth look'd upon her face.
From that hour, empty was her place.
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