Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs By Walter Thornbury. Illustrated by J. Whistler, F. Walker, John Tenniel, J. D. Watson, W. Small, F. Sandys, G. J. Pinwell, T. Morten, M. J. Lawless, and many others |
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The Last of the Sirens.
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 | Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs |  |
279
The Last of the Sirens.
I came to the sea,
And it whispered to me
Tales of sorrow and mystery;
It kissed my feet, for my voice was sweet,
By the silvery sand where the rough tides meet,
And the waves leapt up to my knee.
And it whispered to me
Tales of sorrow and mystery;
It kissed my feet, for my voice was sweet,
By the silvery sand where the rough tides meet,
And the waves leapt up to my knee.
280
The waves like children are to me;
They gambol, and laugh, and race so free,
And bow at my crown of sovereignty;
And the wild winds shriek when I 'gin to speak,
And the fiercest blast at my voice grows weak,
For I am one of the Sirens three.
They gambol, and laugh, and race so free,
And bow at my crown of sovereignty;
And the wild winds shriek when I 'gin to speak,
And the fiercest blast at my voice grows weak,
For I am one of the Sirens three.
When my soft voice calls,
Each wild wave falls
Down at my feet, and crouching crawls.
The whale, my hound, leaps on with a bound,
And the seals bark loud when they hear the sound,
And rush through the breakers' foaming walls.
Each wild wave falls
Down at my feet, and crouching crawls.
The whale, my hound, leaps on with a bound,
And the seals bark loud when they hear the sound,
And rush through the breakers' foaming walls.
The dead men float,
To hear the note
Of the harp tunes I have learned by rote,
Lashed to the spars that the erring stars,
Venus the pale, and red-gashed Mars,
Led where the ships the sharp reef smote.
To hear the note
Of the harp tunes I have learned by rote,
Lashed to the spars that the erring stars,
Venus the pale, and red-gashed Mars,
Led where the ships the sharp reef smote.
And you can hear,
When the air is clear,
Faint cries of rage, and pain, and fear;
Their pangs grow sharp when they hear my harp,
Whose strings no wintry winds can warp,
On the grassy shore that seems so near.
When the air is clear,
Faint cries of rage, and pain, and fear;
Their pangs grow sharp when they hear my harp,
Whose strings no wintry winds can warp,
On the grassy shore that seems so near.
O'er their glazing eye
White shadows fly,
As I sing a melodious lullaby;
Then laugh and scream as my beacon's gleam
Leaps up with a brazen hell-fire gleam,
To light the wretch to his misery.
White shadows fly,
As I sing a melodious lullaby;
Then laugh and scream as my beacon's gleam
Leaps up with a brazen hell-fire gleam,
To light the wretch to his misery.
The birds know me,—
The gull of the sea,
And the cormorant, black as black may be.
I give them food in my loving mood,
And smooth their wings, and ruffle their hood:
The dead are their meat, and still shall be.
The gull of the sea,
And the cormorant, black as black may be.
I give them food in my loving mood,
And smooth their wings, and ruffle their hood:
The dead are their meat, and still shall be.
281
When the galley sails
Are rent in the gales,
And the gilded oar the black slave fails
To poise and lift, I make them drift
On the sharp white horn of the leeward rift,
As their bark I greet and hail.
Are rent in the gales,
And the gilded oar the black slave fails
To poise and lift, I make them drift
On the sharp white horn of the leeward rift,
As their bark I greet and hail.
Then with cadence sweet,
My harp I beat,
And I foot the sands with my snowy feet.
And their shrieks and cries to the stormy skies
Are to me the dearest of melodies,
And I laugh as the strong tides howling meet.
My harp I beat,
And I foot the sands with my snowy feet.
And their shrieks and cries to the stormy skies
Are to me the dearest of melodies,
And I laugh as the strong tides howling meet.
But, oh! misery
To those merchants three,
Steering to Greece from Sicily,
With a deep, deep hold, that brimmed with gold,
And pearls and jewels a thousandfold,
And bales that were bursting with spicery.
To those merchants three,
Steering to Greece from Sicily,
With a deep, deep hold, that brimmed with gold,
And pearls and jewels a thousandfold,
And bales that were bursting with spicery.
And, woe! woe! woe!
To those who blow
The walrus horns as the calm seas flow;
Grim men in mail, with a crimson sail,
Who have struck the shark and wounded the whale,
And on to the western islands go.
To those who blow
The walrus horns as the calm seas flow;
Grim men in mail, with a crimson sail,
Who have struck the shark and wounded the whale,
And on to the western islands go.
Ah, me! ah, me!
For the maidens three,
Who come the fishermen youth to see;
That golden hair, that they deem so fair,
Shall bleach and crisp in the salt sea air,
In the caves below where the krakens be.
For the maidens three,
Who come the fishermen youth to see;
That golden hair, that they deem so fair,
Shall bleach and crisp in the salt sea air,
In the caves below where the krakens be.
And, alas!
When it comes to pass,
That a mother and child are going to mass,
A tender bit is that babe, I wit,
For the dog-fish fighting in crowds for it,
A fathom below these waves of glass.
When it comes to pass,
That a mother and child are going to mass,
A tender bit is that babe, I wit,
For the dog-fish fighting in crowds for it,
A fathom below these waves of glass.
Finis.
| Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs | |