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 |  |
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!’
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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.
| Irish Songs and Poems | |