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diff --git a/38135-h/38135-h.htm b/38135-h/38135-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..61fcea5 --- /dev/null +++ b/38135-h/38135-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2604 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ --> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Etain the Beloved and Other Poems, by James H. Cousins. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + +p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + +hr {width: 33%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + +table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + +a {text-decoration: none;} + +.pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} + +.blockquot {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.big {font-size: 125%;} +.huge {font-size: 150%;} +.giant {font-size: 200%;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold; text-align: center;} + +.figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Etain the Beloved and Other Poems, by James Henry Cousins + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Etain the Beloved and Other Poems + +Author: James Henry Cousins + +Release Date: November 25, 2011 [EBook #38135] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ETAIN THE BELOVED AND OTHER POEMS *** + + + + +Produced by David E. Brown, Bryan Ness and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + +<p class="center"><span class="giant">ETAIN THE BELOVED<br/> +AND OTHER POEMS</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p class="center"><span class="big"><i>BY THE SAME AUTHOR</i></span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="1" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +The Quest<br /> +The Bell-Branch<br /> +The Awakening<br /> +The Wisdom of the West<br /> +Ben Madighan (out of Print)<br /> +Sung by Six "<br /> +The Legend of the Blemished King (out of Print)<br /> +The Voice of One "</td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[Pg i]</a></span></p> +<p> </p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[Pg ii]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/frontispiece.png" alt="" /></div> +<p class="caption">JAMES H. COUSINS<br/> + +<i>From a pencil sketch by Florence Gillespie</i></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">ETAIN THE BELOVED<br /> + +AND OTHER POEMS</span><br /> + +<span class="big">BY JAMES H. COUSINS</span></p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center">MAUNSEL & COMPANY, LIMITED,<br /> +96 MIDDLE ABBEY STREET, DUBLIN<br /> +1912</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">CONTENTS</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="1" summary="table"> + +<tr><td><span class="big">ETAIN THE BELOVED</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_1"> 1</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span class="big">POEMS AND LYRICS</span></td><td> </td></tr> + +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;">DEATH AND LIFE</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;">A SCHOOLBOY PLAYS CUCHULAIN</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_54"> 54</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;">HOW THE MOUNTAINS CAME TO BE</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;">LOVE IN ABSENCE</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_58"> 58</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;">TREES IN WINTER</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;">A SPRING CAPRICE</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;">A SPRING RONDEL</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;">THE FAIRY RING</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_64">64</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;">LABORARE EST ORARE</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span class="big">PARAPHRASES AND INTERPRETATIONS </span></td><td> </td></tr> + +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;">DAEDALUS AND ICARUS</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;">A PARAPHRASE</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;">HOSPITALITY</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;">THE STUDENT</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_73">73</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;">AT A HOLY WELL</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;">THE PRIEST'S LAKE</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span class="big">SONNETS</span></td><td> </td></tr> + +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;">A PAPER-SELLER</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;">TO ONE IN PRISON</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;">A HOME-COMING</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_81"> 81</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;">LOVE, THE DESTROYER</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span class="big">ENVOY</span></td><td> </td></tr> + +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;">THE LOVING CUP</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_84">84</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;">NOTES</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td></tr></table> + + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="huge">ETAIN THE BELOVED</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="big"><i>TO PENROSE MORRIS</i></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">ETAIN THE BELOVED</span></p> + +<p> </p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="1" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center">I</td></tr> + + +<tr><td> +Strong in the strength that finds in gentleness<br /> +A way to peace, King Eochaidh on the throne<br /> +Of Erin sits. Around his footstool press<br /> +Clansmen and chiefs. Some wind of thought has blown<br /> +Their eyes to flame. Some purpose, in the stress<br /> +Of travailing tongues, to birth finds not a way:<br /> +What all would utter, none has wit to say.<br /> +<br /> +Into their midst one came, an agéd bard<br /> +Upon whose flowing hair Wisdom had laid<br /> +Her gift of silver. On those faces, scarred<br /> +From old forgotten fights, he looked, and weighed<br /> +The meaning in their eyes, though sorely marred;<br /> +And from the tangled fibre of their thought<br /> +Into the web of speech their purpose wrought.<br /> +<br /> +"Thy word, O King, has passed by hill and dale<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span><br /> +Throughout all Erin, bidding to the Feast<br /> +Of Tara all thy people, with the tale<br /> +Of tribute due from greatest and from least.<br /> +Nor should this word than others less prevail,<br /> +But that the herald-spear thy will hath sent,<br /> +Against the shield of custom has been bent.<br /> +<br /> +"Thou knowest, O King, that from most ancient years<br /> +No chieftain wifeless rules for thee the land,<br /> +Nor mateless at a festival appears;<br /> +But fixed in all experience doth stand:<br /> +And thus, made master of all human fears,<br /> +Fears not, but strongly round the camp-fires goes,<br /> +Full sharer of thy people's joys and woes.<br /> +<br /> +"Equal in yoke and honour, as the day<br /> +And night, that are but breathings of the soul,<br /> +They on life's crooked journey take their way<br /> +Diverse in gift, in essence one and whole.<br /> +This is the custom, King! Yet custom may,<br /> +If but of man, be as a smith who twists<br /> +An iron chain to bind upon his wrists.<br /> +<br /> +"But custom may, if fashioned to the Law<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span><br /> +That made the world, be as the straitened string<br /> +From which the Master of the Feast may draw<br /> +Majestic speech, a living, wondrous thing<br /> +To rid the brow of pale contention's flaw,<br /> +And passing like the honey-cup along,<br /> +Gather their wandering lips to one great song.<br /> +<br /> +"And such the custom that thy people plead:<br /> +For when of old the deathless Lord of Life<br /> +Dagda came forth, and knew the immortal need<br /> +That burned within his heart, he took to wife<br /> +Dana the Mother of all human seed.<br /> +In her his breath found music and a name.<br /> +In her his fire has blossomed into flame.<br /> +<br /> +"Throughout the world that fire and music run<br /> +One sings within the maiden's wondering heart:<br /> +One stirs the veins of manhood, as the sun<br /> +Sets the spring's fingers thrilling with the smart<br /> +Of keen, ecstatic life that's but begun.<br /> +In every seed that breaks and wind that blows,<br /> +Each in the other seeks and finds repose.<br /> +<br /> +"Wherefore, O King, since thou art yet unwed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span><br /> +And thus in kingship standest incomplete,<br /> +Unfurnished in thy heart, from whence are fed<br /> +The streams of power and wisdom, it is not meet<br /> +That unto thee thy people bow the head,<br /> +And here thy sovereignty with tribute own<br /> +Till thou hast set a Queen upon thy throne."<br /> +<br /> +He ceased, and all the faces of the crowd<br /> +Shone with the light that kindles when the boon<br /> +Of speech has eased the heart; as when a cloud<br /> +Falls from the labouring shoulder of the moon,<br /> +And all the world stands smiling silver-browed.<br /> +King Eochaidh for a moment bent his head<br /> +In thought; then smiling he arose and said:<br /> +<br /> +"I am not careless of the ancient need<br /> +That moves your minds. Within my own it moves<br /> +Like a long-hidden, unforgotten seed<br /> +The spring has touched uneasily: like hooves<br /> +Long captive, when the trumpet has decreed<br /> +A royal pilgrimage, and in the liss<br /> +They dance to taste the highway's ringing bliss.<br /> +<br /> +"So have I watched for that sure sign that fills<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span><br /> +The horn of fate, that bending this our realm<br /> +Unto the Will that works behind our wills,<br /> +It may remain; as when storms overwhelm,<br /> +And leafy spray whirls over the roaring hills,<br /> +The swaying pine bends as the storm wars by,<br /> +And lives to shake proud arms against the sky.<br /> +<br /> +"But now the horn is full, the hour is here.<br /> +Our wills as one move onward to their end.<br /> +Here now I lift on high the royal spear,<br /> +And thus through Erin proclamation send:<br /> +'Search for the promised maiden far and near<br /> +Whom the high Gods have destined at my side<br /> +To reign.' Go forth. The King awaits his bride.<br /> +<br /> +"She shall be found in some most quiet place<br /> +Where Beauty sits all day beside her knee<br /> +And looks with happy envy on her face;<br /> +Where Virtue blushes, her own guilt to see,<br /> +And Grace learns new, sweet meanings from her grace;<br /> +Where all that ever was or will be wise<br /> +Pales at the burning wisdom of her eyes.<br /> +<br /> +"When you at last, far off like worshippers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span><br /> +Within some holy circle, bow your heads,<br /> +You shall await till on that face of her's<br /> +A smile like spring's first morning slowly spreads;<br /> +And when her lip with wondrous music stirs,<br /> +Bear hither like the wind her deathless name,<br /> +That I may light my heart at its white flame."<br /> +<br /> +Scarce had he ceased when from the royal tent<br /> +Broke the full tide of their loud ecstacy,<br /> +And through the woods like summer thunder went,<br /> +Full of great rumour of mighty things to be<br /> +That died far off like twilight breezes spent.<br /> +Then sang the bard in hidden wisdom skilled:<br /> +"Thus is the purpose of the Gods fulfilled.<br /> +<br /> +"<i>Lift now the hands that may not bless</i><br /> +<i>A wifeless feast, a queenless throne,</i><br /> +<i>A court or council womanless,</i><br /> +<i>Or life one-limbed and sideways grown,</i><br /> +<i>That holds the hands that may not bless.</i><br /> +<br /> +"<i>The starry Virgin of the east</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span><br /> +<i>Steps up the sky to lead the sign</i><br /> +<i>Where most has kissed and mixed with least,</i><br /> +<i>And one-in-twain life's torches shine</i><br /> +<i>Behind the Virgin of the east.</i><br /> +<br /> +"<i>Then lift the hands that gladly bless</i><br /> +<i>Full life, to life's great fulness grown,</i><br /> +<i>A power to stand through shock and stress,</i><br /> +<i>And rear an everlasting throne</i><br /> +<i>Held high on hands that gladly bless.</i>"<br /> +<br /> +Then on a night when on his hearth the gleam<br /> +Of crackling faggots flung a wavering glow<br /> +Along his red-yew roof from beam to beam<br /> +Like glancing eyes, King Eochaidh to and fro<br /> +Turned on his couch, dreaming a happy dream<br /> +Of snapping stems, and crisp leaves crushed by feet<br /> +With high desire made musical and fleet.<br /> +<br /> +Out of the fire a swift and slender shaft<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span><br /> +Of yellow flame pierced through the King's dropped lids,<br /> +And woke a murmur of bees whose eager craft<br /> +Rifled the treasures of blossomy pyramids;<br /> +Whereat the King, raising his hand, low laughed,<br /> +Then passed like some worn swimmer on the sweep<br /> +Of strong waves toward the unfathomed gulf of sleep.<br /> +<br /> +At length in that white hour when dewy wings<br /> +Stir with new day's delight, there came a sound<br /> +As though a passion of voices and smitten strings<br /> +Mingled and swelled and flew along the ground,<br /> +Till at the utmost of its triumphings,<br /> +Through the King's sleep and on his door the dawn<br /> +Broke, and a mighty shout: "Etain! Etain!"</td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">II<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></td></tr> + +<tr><td> +Thereafter, on a morning rich with spring,<br /> +When round his feet new-opened flowers looked up<br /> +Wide-eyed and wet at some most wondrous thing,<br /> +And crystal draughts from many an odorous cup<br /> +Were spilled by winds in playful rioting,<br /> +King Eochaidh stood beside a quiet shore,<br /> +Dumb with a joy he never knew before.<br /> +<br /> +From league to league alone his path had lain<br /> +On windy hills, through forests dark, or deep<br /> +In dank, sonorous glens. Through every vein<br /> +A burning joy had drunk the mists of sleep,<br /> +And sung "Etain, Etain," till the refrain<br /> +Irked, and he slept, and when he sprang awake<br /> +Saw that which made his heart with rapture shake.<br /> +<br /> +There by the sea, Etain his destined bride<br /> +Sat unabashed, unwitting of the sight<br /> +Of him who gazed upon her gleaming side,<br /> +Fair as the snowfall of a single night;<br /> +Her arms like foam upon the flowing tide;<br /> +Her curd-white limbs in all their beauty bare,<br /> +Straight as the rule of Dagda's carpenter.<br /> +<br /> +Her cheeks were like the foxglove when it glows<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span><br /> +At noon: her eyes blue as the hyacinth.<br /> +Like moonlight struck to marble, nobly rose<br /> +Her neck upon her shoulder's polished plinth;<br /> +And like the light that swiftly comes and goes<br /> +Through breaking waves, among her hair her hands<br /> +Broke into wavy gold its plaited strands.<br /> +<br /> +Then came her maidens, bright and blossoming<br /> +With beauty, and before her beauty bowed,<br /> +And stood around her in a laughing ring<br /> +To robe her starry splendour like a cloud.<br /> +And as her hair they twined, the hidden king<br /> +Scarce knew if on her lips, that knew no wrong,<br /> +Or in his own hushed heart he heard this song.<br /> +<br /> +<i>The king comes riding from the north,<br /> +From battles won, with marching men.<br /> +Ah, whose white eager arms go forth<br /> +To bid him welcome home again<br /> +When he comes riding from the north?</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>The king comes riding from the south,</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span><br /> +<i>And halts beside the royal liss.<br /> +Ah, whose the happy smiling mouth<br /> +That gives and takes a long warm kiss<br /> +When he comes riding from the south?</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>The king comes riding from the east.<br /> +O night how dark! O way how long!<br /> +Ah, whose dear eyes shall light the feast?<br /> +Ah, who shall lift his heart with song<br /> +When he comes riding from the east?</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>The king comes riding from the west,<br /> +And smiles unto himself, and sighs.<br /> +Ah, whose the white and easeful breast<br /> +Where he shall close his kingly eyes<br /> +When he comes riding from the west?</i><br /> +<br /> +Small wonder now that Eochaidh's leaping heart<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span><br /> +Strained like a hound in leash: yet through his bliss<br /> +There passed a thin cold blade with sudden smart<br /> +Of doubt that he but dreamed, of dread that this<br /> +Was but a vision that would soon depart:<br /> +But when the song had ceased, there stood the maid<br /> +Flushed with keen joy, and like a queen arrayed.<br /> +<br /> +A mantle of bright purple, waving, wound<br /> +Her form, and from her shoulders white as milk<br /> +Fell in reluctant folds and touched the ground.<br /> +Upon her breast the flash of emerald silk—<br /> +As though the glory of earth had wrapped her round—<br /> +Mixed with the glow of red embroidered gold<br /> +That seemed with light her body to enfold.<br /> +<br /> +A sudden breeze came singing from the sea<br /> +And broke with sunlight through the leafy shade.<br /> +Then came King Eochaidh forth, and on his knee<br /> +Bent low before the silent, trembling maid.<br /> +"The king," he said, "has come, and kneels to thee,<br /> +Foredoomed to share the burden of his throne,<br /> +And glorify its glory with thine own."<br /> +<br /> +Then through her frame a gentle tremor went<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span><br /> +And lit her face with exquisite swift fire<br /> +That woke forgotten dreams, whose shaken scent<br /> +Sweetened the quiet winds of her desire<br /> +With some divine, unuttered ravishment,<br /> +Some earnest of great doom that filled her heart<br /> +With sorrow, joy's majestic counterpart.<br /> +<br /> +Upon his head she gently laid her hand,<br /> +And said, "Arise! To thee my heart has bowed<br /> +When minstrel after minstrel, tired and tanned,<br /> +Has supped beside our hearth, and sung the proud<br /> +High song that bears thy greatness through the land.<br /> +For thee from life's clear dawn my love remained<br /> +Fixed, and at length to thee I have attained."</td></tr> + + +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">III<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></td></tr> + +<tr><td> +Across the woods of Meath the bird of day<br /> +Fell from the boughs of noon with bleeding wing,<br /> +While dark-browed Balor strode the eastern way,<br /> +And scattered darkness from his cloudy sling,<br /> +Till at his feet the hosts of Erin lay<br /> +Smitten with sleep; then round their dreams he cast<br /> +The chains wherewith he binds his prisoners fast.<br /> +<br /> +From dawn till dark, in many a hero-game<br /> +Glad eyes had flashed, or bent in pride august<br /> +To hear the chant of some undying name<br /> +Whose deeds were strong as wine. Anon the dust<br /> +Of festive feet stormed in a wild acclaim<br /> +Around the royal place where, side by side,<br /> +Sat Eochaidh and Etain his new-made bride.<br /> +<br /> +Now ancient Sleep, with Silence for his queen,<br /> +Reigns o'er those palaces of stately fir<br /> +That drowse in curtained moonlight's misty sheen.<br /> +Within, the arras hardly seems to stir<br /> +Its languorous folds of purple, blue and green,<br /> +Whose colours part or mix, as rise and fall<br /> +The pine fire's odorous gleams on roof and wall.<br /> +<br /> +No sound, no life, save where with soft salute<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span><br /> +The wide-eyed sentinels a moment wait<br /> +And listen sidelong to the passing bruit<br /> +Of ghostly winds, that murmur at their state<br /> +And pass, with peevish cry and soundless foot,<br /> +Where the dead fly upon the waveless moat<br /> +Makes of the dead dropped leaf a funeral boat.<br /> +<br /> +Yet in the midst of silence so profound,<br /> +One stirred his rushy couch as though in pain,<br /> +For through his dreams a torrent of swift sound<br /> +Stumbled in foam about his echoing brain,<br /> +And all his thought in loud confusion drowned<br /> +And bore him toward a dim and perilous steep<br /> +That flung its shadow on a writhing deep.<br /> +<br /> +Then like the sun obscured by valley smoke,<br /> +With some vague trouble glooming in his eye,<br /> +Ailill the brother of the king awoke<br /> +And scanned the portents of the morning sky,<br /> +Till on his mind a mellowing radiance broke,<br /> +And in his heart there dawned a wondrous face<br /> +That lit his world with Love's exalted grace.<br /> +<br /> +Often in dreams a shadow by his side<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span><br /> +Had sung of one who came in some great hour<br /> +With Love—and woe. Now came his brother's bride;<br /> +And when he bent before her in her bower,<br /> +Within his heart the shadow rose and cried,<br /> +And passed away, while all his being shook,<br /> +Stricken with joy and sorrow in a look.<br /> +<br /> +Among the clamours of the festal time<br /> +His love for ease he hid, again pursued,<br /> +Finding a solace in the chanted rhyme<br /> +Of agéd bards, or youths in merry mood<br /> +Where angry words were counted as a crime;<br /> +And fireside friendship staunched his hungry sighs<br /> +When she no more was banquet for his eyes.<br /> +<br /> +But when the marriage festival was past,<br /> +And restless day gave place to torturing night,<br /> +His captive passion burst its chains, and cast<br /> +Its ardours from his brain in living light;<br /> +Then like the thin voice of a spell-raised blast,<br /> +A dissonant note from hidden harp-strings drawn<br /> +Troubled the dreams of Eochaidh and Etain.<br /> +<br /> +By day the dream had faded to a mist<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span><br /> +In some far-folded valley of the mind;<br /> +But when, heart-charmed in evening's amethyst,<br /> +The labouring world grew wonderfully kind,<br /> +And upturned lips by brooding love were kissed;<br /> +Like silent rain in summer twilight spilled,<br /> +A wandering thought King Eochaidh touched and chilled.<br /> +<br /> +Meanwhile with steps that would and would not shun<br /> +Bliss craved and spurned; with tongue that might not speak<br /> +The pain that some strange sweetness now had won,<br /> +Ailill moved to and fro; and soon his cheek<br /> +Paled like the austere Servants of the Sun;<br /> +And day by day his passion's famished flame<br /> +Nourished itself upon his wasting frame.<br /> +<br /> +In vain the king's diviners daily strove<br /> +To find the spring of Ailill's gathering ill;<br /> +In vain Etain by stream and murmuring grove<br /> +Sought for the shadowy hand that held his will;<br /> +And when dark Balor cracked his whip, and drove<br /> +His winter herd across the bounds of day,<br /> +Ailill upon his couch in weakness lay.<br /> +<br /> +So when a year had passed, and through the land<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span><br /> +The king went forth on royal pilgrimage,<br /> +Unto Etain he gave his last command<br /> +That she, his brother's sickness to assuage,<br /> +Withhold no gift, but give with regal hand;<br /> +And should chill death blow out his flickering blaze,<br /> +His funeral-stone with honour she should raise.</td></tr> + + +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">IV<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></td></tr> + +<tr><td> +From day to day Etain with eager thought<br /> +Outran sick Ailill's fleetest-footed needs;<br /> +From sun and wind a subtle medicine caught,<br /> +And charmed swift healing from the fresh-strewn reeds<br /> +Upon his floor, which her own hands had brought<br /> +From ferny hollows, where cool waters laughed<br /> +That Ailill from her cup with gladness quaffed.<br /> +<br /> +Yet with each dawn that came with growing power<br /> +There grew a cloudy thought in Ailill's mind<br /> +That gloomed the joy of health's returning hour,<br /> +And put a sigh in evening's gentle wind,<br /> +And touched with ill-timed frost life's opening flower,<br /> +And turned to poverty the proffered wealth<br /> +In hands that wrought his sickness and his health.<br /> +<br /> +And she, in service, found a hidden way<br /> +To strange new meanings in the eyes of life;<br /> +And reached a joy beyond the shrill affray<br /> +Of horns and harps loud with the songs of strife<br /> +Or little triumphs of a passing day;<br /> +And grasped, in giving, life's most perfect gift—<br /> +Love that is raised by that which it doth lift.<br /> +<br /> +So moved the twain through sunshine barred with gloom,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span><br /> +Finding in each twin solace and despair:<br /> +He, like a frail and gently tended bloom,<br /> +Grudged each day's health that took him past her care;<br /> +And she, o'ershadowed by approaching doom,<br /> +Watching his need of her grow less and less,<br /> +Sickened with grief her lips dare not express.<br /> +<br /> +Tossed thus on hidden billows of the soul,<br /> +And swept by winds that warred against the will,<br /> +They drained the little draught in life's poor bowl,<br /> +And all unwitting wrought each other ill;<br /> +Until at last, stung past the heart's control,<br /> +Marking Etain's white brow and pensive eye,<br /> +Thus Ailill broke the silence with a cry.<br /> +<br /> +"O bitter joy! O sorrow passing sweet!<br /> +O blossoming life that leads to love's pale death!<br /> +O gain that speeds to loss on laggard feet!<br /> +O living voice that kills the word it saith!<br /> +O cooling touch that kindles quenchless heat!<br /> +How shall I all my heart's dear burden speak,<br /> +Or how keep silence at thy paling cheek?<br /> +<br /> +"I love thee, Queen Etain, but in such wise<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span><br /> +As never man loved woman heretofore:<br /> +Not with the love that lives upon her eyes,<br /> +And counts her breast the summit and the shore<br /> +Of all desire, and with tempestuous sighs<br /> +Flings to the winds the spoils of reason's thrift<br /> +In barter for her body's utmost gift.<br /> +<br /> +"My love, O queen, is that serener kind<br /> +Whose word outruns the lumbering wain of speech,<br /> +And springs in light from mind to answering mind;<br /> +And takes its bliss beyond the body's reach,<br /> +Thought mixed with thought, as sunlight with sweet wind;<br /> +And crowds the ways, where human sorrow pleads,<br /> +With generations of exalted deeds.<br /> +<br /> +"Ah, then take back the life that thou hast spent<br /> +In vain, since thou dost slay and heal my heart;<br /> +And let quick death beat down my failing tent,<br /> +And its lone habitant be blown apart<br /> +Through the wide wastes of night's black firmament,<br /> +Where move the Powers in whose dread hands may be<br /> +The source and end of dreams and destiny.<br /> +<br /> +"There past the chain of hours my faithful ghost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span><br /> +May through thy dreams move silently and dim;<br /> +And needing then the least, may serve thee most;<br /> +Or crying seaward from life's misty rim,<br /> +Call forth thy heart beyond its mortal coast:<br /> +Happy if in thy spirit's wakening sigh<br /> +My name one murmured moment live and die."<br /> +<br /> +Thus Ailill spoke; and like a summer shower<br /> +His eager words, tingling on heart and brain,<br /> +Stirred many a leaf to life, and many a flower;<br /> +And sank beneath her spirit's thirsty plain,<br /> +Till hidden springs, touched with a strange new power,<br /> +Welled in her eyes with flash of sudden streams<br /> +From hills that crowned some far-off world of dreams.<br /> +<br /> +Clear-visioned in her meditative eye<br /> +Rolled the great world, and lo! a silent moth<br /> +Shredded its mighty frame, till down the sky<br /> +It fluttered like a poor discarded cloth<br /> +From some dead face flung out by hands that die;<br /> +And thinned like vapours round the lips of day,<br /> +And like a breath passed utterly away.<br /> +<br /> +And as it passed she knew that nevermore<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span><br /> +Life would be life again; yet in her mind<br /> +Lurked the dim fear of one who leaves the shore,<br /> +And on the sightless hazard of the wind<br /> +Moves into doubt and darkness. O'er and o'er<br /> +She turned her thought, till softly on her ear<br /> +There broke a song a bard was chanting near.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Because the strong are fallen low,<br /> +Who deems that Strength himself is slain?<br /> +Through depth and height his arm shall go,<br /> +And he shall rear his house again,<br /> +Although the strong are fallen low.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Because the living all are dead,<br /> +Who deems that Life has found a grave?<br /> +Among the stars she lifts her head,<br /> +She dances lightly on the wave,<br /> +Although the living all are dead.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Because the beautiful has passed,</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span><br /> +<i>Was Beauty but a passing word?<br /> +Behold, the dust through chaos cast<br /> +With lovelier loveliness is stirred,<br /> +Although the beautiful has passed.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>And if earth's lovers love amiss,<br /> +Who deems that Love has perished quite?<br /> +Lo, cloudy lips the mountains kiss,<br /> +And day is bosomed on the night,<br /> +Although earth's lovers love amiss.</i><br /> +<br /> +Swiftly and silently her thought's faint wing<br /> +Sought between wind and wind a certain way;<br /> +For one was keen with glad awakening<br /> +In perfumed morn of some ecstatic day;<br /> +And one was loud with song, and quivering string,<br /> +And all life's pageantry and noisy breath<br /> +Wherewith men strive to drown the voice of death.<br /> +<br /> +Then said Etain: "King Eochaidh in his might<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span><br /> +Drew me to bonds of happiness; but thou<br /> +Art as a voice that calls across the night<br /> +To where some dawn blows freshly on the brow,<br /> +And love with love moves freely as the light,<br /> +Mingling in happy dreams their shadowy wings<br /> +Beyond these perishing substantial things.<br /> +<br /> +"Ah, me, the pain in joy, the joy in grief!<br /> +Who tells the end when once has moved the foot?<br /> +Thy hand is on my life's new-opened leaf:<br /> +Who knows the hand may pluck its ripened fruit?<br /> +To thee—and past, the journey may be brief.<br /> +Yet I the king's behest shall all fulfil—<br /> +'Nothing withhold to heal my brother's ill.'<br /> +<br /> +"So in the gaze of dawn and wondering flowers<br /> +We shall keep tryst by stream and whispering tree;<br /> +Perchance to win from life's controlling powers<br /> +The healing of thy heart's infirmity;<br /> +Perchance—" "Oh! speed the hazard of those hours,"<br /> +He cried, "that blind the flame of low desire<br /> +In the white light of Love's transmuting fire."</td></tr> + + +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">V<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></td></tr> + +<tr><td> +Hard by the swift-winged star, the moth-like moon<br /> +Sheds golden dust on waves of day that ebb<br /> +Into the deep beyond life's wan lagoon.<br /> +The spider Night now spins his monstrous web,<br /> +And spots the dark with many a pale cocoon<br /> +Hung in his vaporous cave, whose phantoms creep<br /> +In visions round the heavy brain of sleep.<br /> +<br /> +Yet one, among the sleepers, never turns<br /> +To ease his shoulder of the weight of night;<br /> +But with the shield of sweet oblivion spurns<br /> +Those wandering shafts that tease with sound and sight;<br /> +Till in a quiet, deep as kingly urns<br /> +In buried places, Ailill deadly lies,<br /> +Blind to the spreading signal of the skies.<br /> +<br /> +Now the thick dark, that pressed Etain's calm face<br /> +Like softest wool, thins out, and moves, and lifts;<br /> +And like a memory's vague recovered trace<br /> +The silent world, looming through cloudy rifts,<br /> +Floats greyly on the grey abyss of space,<br /> +Then slowly forms, and stands at last in light<br /> +Built on the crumbled ruins of the night.<br /> +<br /> +Soon on a cloud o'erhung with heliotrope<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span><br /> +Day's harp is lifted, wire on golden wire;<br /> +And now great Dagda's burning fingers grope<br /> +From string to string, then reaching high and higher<br /> +Unto the utterance of some eager hope,<br /> +Break through the vibrant silences, and spring<br /> +Into one living voice of leaf and wing.<br /> +<br /> +Somewhere the snipe now taps his tiny drum;<br /> +The moth goes fluttering upward from the heath;<br /> +And where no lightest foot unmarked may come,<br /> +The rabbit, tiptoe, plies his shiny teeth<br /> +On luscious herbage; and with strident hum<br /> +The yellow bees, blustering from flower to flower,<br /> +Scatter from dew-filled cups a sparkling shower.<br /> +<br /> +The meadowsweet shakes out its feathery mass;<br /> +And rumorous winds, that stir the silent eaves,<br /> +Bearing abroad faint perfumes as they pass,<br /> +Thrill with some wondrous tale the fluttering leaves,<br /> +And whisper secretly along the grass<br /> +Where gossamers, for day's triumphal march,<br /> +Hang out from blade to blade their diamond arch.<br /> +<br /> +Forth came Etain, and with a little cry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span><br /> +Scattered the councils of the feathery brood;<br /> +And faced unblenched the red sun's winkless eye<br /> +That hawk-like hung above the quivering wood;<br /> +And passed with stately step and head on high<br /> +Toward a secluded place—where one doth wait<br /> +Silent and imperturbable as fate.<br /> +<br /> +Sweetly the wizard palms of morning sleek<br /> +Her brow with spells; and when a butterfly<br /> +Brushes with soft familiar wing her cheek,<br /> +Through the deep woods she hears a ghostly sigh,<br /> +As if a hidden god were fain to speak<br /> +An ancient ageless love that, fold by fold,<br /> +Wraps her with joy in throbbing arms of old.<br /> +<br /> +Now is her sandalled foot upon the edge<br /> +Of a loud-leaping stream, that flings its damp<br /> +To cool the sorrel shaking on its ledge<br /> +Under the squirrel's pine, and in a swamp<br /> +Goes dumb among the heron-haunted sedge,<br /> +Where the swift kingfisher, a moment seen,<br /> +Flashes and fades, a flame of sudden green.<br /> +<br /> +At length she stands within the appointed place,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span><br /> +Where leafy boughs in odorous dusk are blent.<br /> +But wherefore now across her trancéd face<br /> +Pass the quick fingers of bewilderment,<br /> +And doubt on doubt like shadows shadows chase?<br /> +Faintly she speaks, "Ailill I came to see.<br /> +Who art thou—for thou art yet art not he?"<br /> +<br /> +From her soft eye no loosened glances tell<br /> +Desire or dread, to him whose cloudless gaze<br /> +Knows from what heights of old her footsteps fell<br /> +Out of clear light, into this web of days<br /> +And nights and mystery inscrutable,<br /> +And marks how in the calm of inner power<br /> +She moves unmoved to meet her destined hour.<br /> +<br /> +"Etain," he whispered, and again, "Etain."<br /> +Such utter love went throbbing through her name<br /> +That nigh beyond her doubt her foot had gone;<br /> +Yet stood she wavering like a lonely flame<br /> +Outburning night, that feels the shake of dawn;<br /> +Then said, "Thy name, that doubt aside he cast?"<br /> +"Mider," he answered, "come for thee at last."<br /> +<br /> +"Mider?" she echoed, "Mider?" and the sound<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span><br /> +Smote upon hidden doors, and roused from sleep<br /> +Faint eyes that dreamed, vague hands that groped around<br /> +The thought behind her thought, and from the deep<br /> +Beneath her thought climbed upward, to the bound<br /> +Whose shadowy marge like midnight gloom is cast<br /> +Between the passing moment and the past.<br /> +<br /> +Then Mider said, "For no poor worm's desire,<br /> +Nor aught of earth, thou comest, O beloved!<br /> +But for another's good thy thoughts conspire;<br /> +And far from self thy feet have hither moved<br /> +To the high purpose of the sacred fire<br /> +That burns thine upward path through joy and pain,<br /> +Through birth, through life, through death, to me again."<br /> +<br /> +Then asked she all bewildered: "Who art thou<br /> +Whose eyes have read my soul?" And answered he,<br /> +"Thine am I by the immemorial vow<br /> +That made thee mine, beloved! eternally,<br /> +When for a bride-price, on thy peerless brow<br /> +I set a diadem beyond the worth<br /> +Of all the crowns of all the queens of earth."<br /> +<br /> +Swiftly her thought divining, "Where, and when,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span><br /> +And wherefore parted, thou, beloved! shalt know.<br /> +That land which gleams in the rapt poet's ken,<br /> +Set in a sea that has no ebb or flow,<br /> +Beyond the spear-cast of the dreams of men,<br /> +Is mine, and from all changings far withdrawn<br /> +There spreads the realm of Mider—and Etain.<br /> +<br /> +"And there we loved, till that Almighty Power<br /> +Who set the heavens wheeling with a nod,<br /> +Blew thee, a butterfly, from flower to flower,<br /> +Until beyond our realm, a splendid God<br /> +Knew thee and cherished in a blossomy bower,<br /> +And nightly thy fair form in purple laid,<br /> +And at thy side his couch of slumber made.<br /> +<br /> +"But thee again the breath of tempest found,<br /> +And swept thee forth, and whirled from field to field,<br /> +And dashed thee where a roar of festal sound<br /> +Shook brazenly doffed helm and resting shield,<br /> +And flung thee in a cup that passed around<br /> +To one who drank it deep in bridal mirth—<br /> +And thou wert born a daughter of the earth.<br /> +<br /> +"From year to year life's pleasures round thee played,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span><br /> +And fell behind the question of thine eyes<br /> +That searched the mysteries of leafy shade,<br /> +And the blue heron sailing in the skies<br /> +Cutting the silence with the rusty blade<br /> +His voice, and sought to spy the subtile might<br /> +That killed your gathered iris in a night.<br /> +<br /> +"Ah, soon I saw sweet longing on thy face,<br /> +And love's compelling poppy on thy mouth,<br /> +And watched thee robe thy maiden blossoming grace<br /> +And dream a king came riding from the south;<br /> +Yet in thy sigh in Eochaidh's royal place,<br /> +Unseen I saw the waft of hidden wings<br /> +Set past these perishing substantial things.<br /> +<br /> +"For thou wert born for love whose windless sail<br /> +Moves on great deeps beyond life's shallow range.<br /> +Love linked in flesh with failing flesh shall fail:<br /> +Love knit in thought with changing thought shall change,<br /> +Nor all desire against slow Time prevail;<br /> +For that old worm all dreams shall gnaw and rend,<br /> +And love that finds an end—itself shall end.<br /> +<br /> +"Oh! not for thee the little irking chain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span><br /> +That frets the bark on life's expanding bole;<br /> +Nor love that maketh free, though it contain<br /> +All earth's white loves and thee supreme and sole<br /> +Beloved beneath all heaven; for who shall gain,<br /> +Since between love and love most subtly mixed<br /> +Untrodden silence stands forever fixed?<br /> +<br /> +"My love would brood upon the holy thing<br /> +Within thine inmost being folded far,<br /> +Till it at length come forth on perfect wing<br /> +To brush with sweet eclipse the morning star,<br /> +And in high heaven its utter rapture sing,<br /> +Filling the universe with golden sound<br /> +Of love immortal, measureless, unbound!<br /> +<br /> +"How shall immortal love find mortal bliss,<br /> +Or measureless be bound in narrow speech,<br /> +Or free and forge the bondage of a kiss?<br /> +Nay, but its end is ever out of reach,<br /> +Its life, of fairer life the chrysalis;<br /> +And all its days, desirable and fleet,<br /> +But prints of unseen Beauty's passing feet.<br /> +<br /> +"Ah! Love is thine whose all-transfusing sun<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span><br /> +Burns out the mystery of life and death;<br /> +And all thine hours but blossom unto one<br /> +That us in utter bondage compasseth.<br /> +Now to that timeless hour Time's footsteps run<br /> +To rear our throne, whose foot shall never know<br /> +The chafe of life's eternal ebb and flow.<br /> +<br /> +"And he whose heart long time was scarred and swept<br /> +By hungering winds that robbed him of repose,<br /> +Wrapt in deep joy, beyond his joy has slept<br /> +Into a passionless calm, that wakes and knows<br /> +Love's highest bliss in honour stainless kept.<br /> +Farewell, and when a little while has flown<br /> +I come again." He ceased. She stood alone.<br /> +<br /> +Far through the morn the horn of Eochaidh blew,<br /> +Outspeeding runners hot with glad return.<br /> +From post to post goes welcoming halloo:<br /> +Far off the shouldered spear-heads dance and burn<br /> +Through smother of wheels, and marching men that strew<br /> +Their wake with dust and song, and storm at last<br /> +Round dun and liss, their prosperous journey past.<br /> +<br /> +And all that day go question and reply,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span><br /> +Twin bodkins looping up the stuff of life:<br /> +And all that dusk, warm cheek and glancing eye<br /> +Blow up love's ruddy peat in man and wife:<br /> +And all that night, harps throb and warpipes cry<br /> +Around the king, enthroned in joy complete,<br /> +Etain beside him, Ailill at his feet.<br /> +<br /> +But through the songs of praise that round him swell,<br /> +One voice to him has music sweeter far.<br /> +Close to his heart she now the tale doth tell<br /> +Of duty done, and love escaped a scar;—<br /> +But not of that deep hour, unspeakable<br /> +With visitation from beyond the world,<br /> +Shut in her heart, a blossom closely curled.<br /> +<br /> +On Eochaidh's royal brow sits glad content<br /> +That she, fate's minister to Ailill's pain,<br /> +Who dared in faith the perilous descent,<br /> +Now stands more white against averted stain.<br /> +And Ailill, all his heart in service spent,<br /> +Fills their glad hours with tender friendship's light<br /> +Sweet as the beam that silvers quiet night.</td></tr> + + +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align ="center">VI<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></td></tr> + +<tr><td> +Now at life's wheel Etain the day-long sings;<br /> +Not loud, but low as one who musing waits<br /> +An hour, whose promise in her deep eye springs<br /> +In keen transfiguring light that contemplates<br /> +The mystery of small, familiar things<br /> +Made great with gleams from past the verge of sight,<br /> +And strange with rumours of the infinite.<br /> +<br /> +In that bright realm glimpsed through the shade of this<br /> +She sees great peace resolve earth's little strife;<br /> +And deepening vision sounds a deeper bliss,<br /> +Till joy rolls round the fretted shores of life;<br /> +And in swift stroke of hate, and love's long kiss,<br /> +She marks one law work out one hidden Will,<br /> +And life and death one happy doom fulfil.<br /> +<br /> +So pass her days in labour sped with peace.<br /> +And now the king, heart-eased in her repose,<br /> +Gathers warm love about him like a fleece;<br /> +And through the land his joy wide-circling goes,<br /> +Stirring swift hands that bid the earth increase<br /> +Her gift of good, till wealth and fatness throng<br /> +Their duns with praise, and fill their mouths with song.<br /> +<br /> +Life's labour widely shared the lightlier lies<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span><br /> +Along the days; and when its tumults cease,<br /> +Free brain and limb are swift in rivalries<br /> +Upon the bloodless battlefields of peace<br /> +In thought's affray, or deed of strength whose prize<br /> +Scarce more adorneth him whose power prevails,<br /> +Than him who strongly dares and greatly fails.<br /> +<br /> +And in long nights, when age and childhood sleep,<br /> +Bright eyes that flicker round the rushlit board<br /> +Mark how the chess-players, in silence deep,<br /> +Meet skill with skill, until delight is roared<br /> +At cunning scheme, or swift unreckoned leap:<br /> +But, cute as fox or quick as tern awing,<br /> +No hand is found to mate King Eochaidh's king.<br /> +<br /> +Loudly his fame rolls through the echoing land;<br /> +But in his dreams, in some high tourney met,<br /> +He feels a strong inexorable hand<br /> +Counter his craft with calm unwavering threat<br /> +By an unseen far-seeing player planned,<br /> +That haunts his thoughts with hint of some deep strife<br /> +Waged vastly on the board of death and life.<br /> +<br /> +Then from his couch, with apprehensive eye,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span><br /> +Forth goes the king for solace. Mile on mile<br /> +His happy realms in dawn's pale radiance lie<br /> +Secure in his great strength; so with a smile<br /> +He tramples out the night's thin troubling cry,<br /> +Then toward his palace turns, lo! at its door<br /> +There stands a chieftain never seen before.<br /> +<br /> +Straightly he stands, nor from his pride's full height<br /> +Bends he from neck to knee one purple fold;<br /> +Nor dips his spear, nor casts his shield whose light<br /> +Glinting from snowy boss and bead of gold,<br /> +Strikes from the king some memory of the night,<br /> +So that his quickened eye is swift to trace<br /> +A touch of challenge in the stranger's face.<br /> +<br /> +"Welcome, O stranger! and doubly were thy name<br /> +To me revealed." "Mider: to thee unknown.<br /> +No far-sung dun is mine, lineage or fame;<br /> +Yet in my realm I keep a steadfast throne,<br /> +And for my pleasure play a subtle game<br /> +With pawn and puissant knight and watching queen.<br /> +Fame trumpets far thy skill: now be it seen."<br /> +<br /> +On swift-set piece and jewelled chessboard break<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span><br /> +Slant arrows from the scarcely risen sun.<br /> +Rank faces rank. "Play, king!"... "Not without stake<br /> +I play; nor bate the forfeit quickly won,—<br /> +Thine?" "Fifty steeds whose hooves shall Erin shake."<br /> +Then Eochaidh, lightly at light-seeming task,<br /> +"And mine," he smiled, "whatever thou shalt ask!"<br /> +<br /> +Matchless in skill, King Eochaidh moves elate ...<br /> +One moment ... then ... straight lip and slow-drawn breath<br /> +Yield sullenly to sure on-coming fate.<br /> +Behind his eyes vast shapes of Life and Death<br /> +Move hand to hand.... Soon ends the struggle—"Mate!"<br /> +The stranger calls.... King Eochaidh's boast is gone!<br /> +"The stake?" he vaguely asks.... "Thy wife, Etain."<br /> +<br /> +Now like a spider wrapped in his own snare,<br /> +The king turned to and fro to rend the spell<br /> +Of ghastly loss. Pride stricken to despair<br /> +Tugged at life's roof-tree. Round him ruining fell<br /> +Puffed hopes and brittle joys that broke in air;<br /> +And high desires, reined short in sight of goal,<br /> +Stumbled to earth and snapped life's chariot-pole.<br /> +<br /> +Then in that other's eye some glance revealed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span><br /> +Faint pity.... "Nay, not this!" King Eochaidh cried.<br /> +"Take thou the treasures won on hard-fought field,<br /> +Spoils of the furrow, tribute of the tide:<br /> +These for thy forfeit here I freely yield;<br /> +Not her whose smile makes festive life's poor crust,<br /> +But lost would turn its glories into dust!"<br /> +<br /> +The stranger calmly answered, "King, the bird<br /> +Poised on a little trick within the brain,<br /> +Soars sunward. Kings on honour's lightest word<br /> +Unshaken, rear a realm that shall remain.<br /> +Snaps a small string: lo! all the song that stirred<br /> +With beauty and joy, sinks like storm-swallowed ships,<br /> +And bards unborn harp a high-king's eclipse.<br /> +<br /> +"But fear not thou. Thy fame shall feel no wind<br /> +Of cold rebuke; for when these shadows lift,<br /> +Thou in life's loss the Spirit's gain shalt find:<br /> +Thou to thyself shalt give thine utmost gift;<br /> +And know thou only hast what is resigned.<br /> +I go—but come on one clear-omened day,<br /> +And thou shalt pay thy debt." He went away.<br /> +<br /> +In that same hour the hungry nestling's cheep<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span><br /> +Floods Etain's drowsing ear with gentle woe.<br /> +Sleep stirred by waking, waking soothed by sleep,<br /> +Around her heart in linking eddies flow;<br /> +Till at some passing wind that shakes the deep<br /> +Of dream, she wakes with eyes that strain to see<br /> +A haunting face behind life's mystery.<br /> +<br /> +And in lone hours of many a moonless night,<br /> +Through jetting poplars and the shooting snags<br /> +Of wrinkled oaks, the king doth seek a light<br /> +From his heart's questionings, whose purpose flags<br /> +Before her face, lest in her eye's clear sight<br /> +One thought of faithlessness a moment read<br /> +Should bring to birth the thing he most doth dread.</td></tr> + + +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">VII<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></td></tr> + +<tr><td> +Strong in the strength that finds in gentleness<br /> +A way to peace, King Eochaidh on the throne<br /> +Of Erin sits. Around his footstool press<br /> +High cares of sovereignty, that crowd his own<br /> +Like gossips out of doors, and ease the stress<br /> +Of storming thought which, held from question clear,<br /> +Fears its mute doubt, yet vaguely doubts its fear.<br /> +<br /> +In silent step, hushed pulse, and listening gaze,<br /> +He marks expectancy behind her smile,<br /> +Like some faint gleam from half-remembered days<br /> +Ere the high Gods had blown them to this isle<br /> +Among inscrutable divided ways,<br /> +Some hidden destiny to mar or make<br /> +In hands as strong to give as quick to take.<br /> +<br /> +Now to the king the hollow moments haste<br /> +Across his heart to some heart-emptied hour:<br /> +And now he frets to leap with sinews braced<br /> +Through lagging days and meet the threatening power.<br /> +Yet from his conflict, inner lips now taste<br /> +The mingled wine of sweet and bitter fate—<br /> +Strength to withstand, Endurance to await.<br /> +<br /> +These not as gifts the shadowy troublers bear,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span><br /> +But on his table spread what is his own.<br /> +So mused the king: "Not all from spade and share<br /> +The harvest comes: seed to its fruit has grown,<br /> +Self-shaped, though stirred by smart of sun and air;<br /> +And in life's myriad hands beaten and pressed,<br /> +Man is not made, but man made manifest."<br /> +<br /> +So finding gain in threatened loss, his mind<br /> +Self-poised, through sorrow and joy makes even way,<br /> +Content if, toiling past, his fingers find<br /> +Her fingers, and in trembling silence say,<br /> +"Here in unstable circumstance entwined<br /> +We two have kissed, and whither we may tend,<br /> +Once mixed, must find each other at the end."<br /> +<br /> +And she within her heart's most secret place<br /> +Has nursed a thought that grew from day to day,<br /> +Like wind-borne seed that on a rocky face<br /> +Finds root and strength to shatter ancient sway,<br /> +A thought of Love that chafes at time and space,<br /> +And moves from Love that was through Love to be<br /> +To some exalted end no eye can see.<br /> +<br /> +Yet nought of this was uttered each to each;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span><br /> +But when, like forest monarchs strong and proud,<br /> +A silver birch beside a sinewy beech,<br /> +They stood at feast to hail the gathering crowd,<br /> +Swift winds of joy came full of happy speech,<br /> +And through the host light raptures laughed and played,<br /> +Witless of yellowing leaf or sodden shade.<br /> +<br /> +Then came a day when on the bare flag-stone<br /> +The slow snail crawled; the chestnut's candles turned<br /> +Downward as dead; the wolf-hound with a groan<br /> +Gazed in King Eochaidh's eyes through eyes that burned<br /> +Great threat; the spear-grass hither and thither blown<br /> +Bent on the sand and traced its rings awry,<br /> +And sun and moon slid sideways down the sky.<br /> +<br /> +Swiftly to Eochaidh the dread omens tell<br /> +The day of forfeiture; yet to Etain<br /> +No word he speaks. Her eyes so softly well<br /> +With wondrous beauty, all his heart is drawn<br /> +In love to hold her from the coming spell.<br /> +Pushed past its hour, the unspoken doom may break,<br /> +And love and honour stand without a shake.<br /> +<br /> +On windy gap and boggy mountain path<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span><br /> +He sets his watchers. Knee-deep where the fists<br /> +Of bracken fronds are clenched in tiny wrath,<br /> +Stern guards now stand, and where in sculptured cists<br /> +Old kings are harvested in Death's long swathe.<br /> +Closed from alarm the shingled roofs now rise<br /> +Ringed through the dark with flaming searching eyes.<br /> +<br /> +The word has passed, "The king shall have his whim:<br /> +No stranger looks upon the queen to-night."<br /> +Around the feasting board men great of limb<br /> +Shut fast each door, and blind the hope of sight<br /> +With shining shields that turn the torches dim.<br /> +Throned firm in strength defying power or guile,<br /> +He joys, and hopes—yet fears Etain's faint smile.<br /> +<br /> +Now harp and song have touched their utmost height,<br /> +And fall in sudden silence at a sound<br /> +Deeper than sound, and pale before a light<br /> +Clearer than light. Above, beneath, around,<br /> +All heaven and earth are shaken with a might<br /> +Past might, swift chariots clash, and mixed with these,<br /> +Far thunderings and the roar of distant seas!<br /> +<br /> +And in their midst is Mider, a shining God<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span><br /> +From whose majestic presence swiftly spreads<br /> +Peace not of earth. Before his face, unflawed<br /> +By shadow of taint, brave warriors bow their heads.<br /> +And now the king, snapping his silver rod<br /> +Of power, with sudden eyes made clear, with cheeks<br /> +Flamed by swift vision, through the silence speaks.<br /> +<br /> +"Now have I seen the shining hand of Him<br /> +Who sifts the world for His divine desire;<br /> +And gathers, and within His quern's wide rim<br /> +Grinds all things meet for His transforming fire,<br /> +And kneads them to a purpose far and dim;<br /> +Who fashions all things to His growing plan,<br /> +And breaks ... and moulds ... and breaks the heart of man.<br /> +<br /> +"Take Thou Thy will—so it be her's?..." A hope<br /> +Shoots a faint arrow instantly—no more.<br /> +A blinding fire falls from night's glimmering slope.<br /> +Flame-like the twain meet on the rushy floor—<br /> +And vanish. King and clansmen blindly grope<br /> +Into cool air. Across the sky two swans<br /> +Fly slowly toward the day that palely dawns.</td></tr></table> + + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">POEMS AND LYRICS</span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="big">DEATH AND LIFE</span></p> + +<p class="center"><i>To the memory of Eveleen Nicolls</i></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="1" summary="table"> + +<tr><td align="center">I</td></tr> + +<tr><td> +The long, dark slope is topped with mist,<br /> +But here the sun is on the grass:<br /> +Beneath, the sea-waves break, and twist<br /> +Backward like snakes of molten glass.<br /> +<br /> +Across an ancient sand-heaped wall<br /> +The foot thro' graves forgotten goes,<br /> +And stops where old, old voices call<br /> +Thro' generations of repose.<br /> +<br /> +But where a sorrow of to-day<br /> +Has set a freshly-fashioned mound,<br /> +A bird slides down his airy way<br /> +And makes the silence ring with sound.</td></tr> + +<tr><td> </td></tr> + +<tr><td align="center">II<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></td></tr> + +<tr><td> +What gloom might now our spirits balk<br /> +Fades out before that high reproof;<br /> +And thro' the fabric of your talk<br /> +Go light and shadow, warp and woof,<br /> +<br /> +With something deeper than the word,—<br /> +Some stately certitude of faith<br /> +Whose eye at Life had never blurred,<br /> +Nor quivered at the eye of Death,<br /> +<br /> +But saw, in that swift, woman's way,<br /> +Thro' changings to the changeless Whole,<br /> +And Life and Death as waves that sway<br /> +Across the ocean of the Soul.</td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> + + + +<tr><td align="center">III<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></td></tr> + +<tr><td> +Then when the hill was lost in mist,<br /> +And in the sea the sky was glassed,<br /> +We wandered home in amethyst;<br /> +And you upon the morrow passed<br /> +<br /> +On that last journey to the West<br /> +Whose end was in the Atlantic wave,<br /> +Where, on your youth's triumphant crest,<br /> +One stroke, another's life to save,<br /> +<br /> +With glory crowned your life complete,<br /> +Proud as the horsed and pluméd seas<br /> +That laid your body at my feet—<br /> +A wonder past Praxiteles.</td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> + + +<tr><td align="center">IV<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></td></tr> + +<tr><td> +Oh! bear her by the weeping crest,<br /> +And past the fields of fallen ears,<br /> +On her last journey from the West,<br /> +This holy Lady Day of tears.<br /> +<br /> +But yet, tho' heads are bared and bowed,<br /> +And down the road the keeners keen,<br /> +Some spirit-music, deep and proud,<br /> +Slips out their thin, shrill cries between<br /> +<br /> +And, like the bird that other day,<br /> +That made the silence ring with sound,<br /> +It floats along the sun-set way,<br /> +A joy above our sorrow's mound.</td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> + + +<tr><td align="center">V<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></td></tr> + +<tr><td> +What grief might now our spirits balk<br /> +Fades out before that high reproof;<br /> +And thro' the hushed and wavering talk<br /> +That fills the streets from roof to roof,<br /> +<br /> +A fire from your high altar shines,<br /> +And kindles thro' our dusk of strife<br /> +A faith whose inner eye divines<br /> +That Death is minister to Life,<br /> +<br /> +And all our years a moment's dream<br /> +In one great Mind that grasps the whole,<br /> +And Life and Death but waves that gleam<br /> +Along the ocean of the Soul.</td></tr></table> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="big">A SCHOOLBOY PLAYS CUCHULAIN</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="1" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +'Way there! for one who hastens forth<br /> +To guard the Marches of the North,<br /> +Where Connacht's hosts with flame and brand<br /> +Hurl menace toward his native land,<br /> +And Macha's Curse on arm and will<br /> +Hangs dreadfully from hill to hill.<br /> +<br /> +'Way there! Four valorous feet of height,<br /> +Twelve long, long years of age and fight,<br /> +He fronts without a thought of fear<br /> +Ten thousand with his wooden spear.<br /> +Soon shall he fling the charging field<br /> +Back on his puissant pasteboard shield,<br /> +And soon shall haughty Maeve bend down<br /> +A vassal to his tinsel crown.<br /> +<br /> +'Way there! Who laughs has hardly heard<br /> +A hidden trumpet's secret word,<br /> +Or glimpsed through those poor arms he bears<br /> +The weapons that the spirit wears.<br /> +In that wild breast a thousand years<br /> +Rise up from ineffectual tears,<br /> +And kindle once again the flame<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span><br /> +Of Freedom at a burning name.<br /> +<br /> +What if for him no flag unfurled<br /> +Should shake red battle on the world;<br /> +On other fields, in other mood,<br /> +The ancient conflict is renewed,<br /> +And Michael and his warring clan<br /> +Tramp onward through the heart of man.<br /> +At Life's loud fires he shall anneal<br /> +A subtler blade than transient steel,<br /> +When Love, invincible in Faith,<br /> +Shall smile upon the face of Death,<br /> +And Will and Heart, as one, conspire<br /> +To dare the utmost of desire.<br /> +Then shall be, with his spirit's lance,<br /> +Unhorse cold Pride and Circumstance,<br /> +Shake Wrong's old strongholds to the ground,<br /> +And Right's victorious trumpet sound,<br /> +And light Earth's ramparts with the gleam<br /> +Of Ireland's unextinguished Dream<br /> +That burned in him who hastened forth<br /> +To guard the Marches of the North,<br /> +When Macha's Curse on arm and will<br /> +Hung dreadfully from hill to hill.</td></tr></table> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="big">HOW THE MOUNTAINS CAME TO BE</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="1" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +A bird once came and said to me,<br /> +"Hear how the mountains came to be.<br /> +An angel from his crystal sphere<br /> +Fell to the earth. A chilly fear<br /> +Shot thro' his wings from tip to tip,<br /> +For there was neither boat nor ship,<br /> +Mountain nor stream, nor maid nor man,<br /> +Far as the angel's eye could scan;<br /> +Dead flatness far as he could see<br /> +Before the mountains came to be.<br /> +He stretched his wings to fly away,<br /> +But round his feet the oozy clay<br /> +Gripped fast, and held him to the ground.<br /> +He stretched and strove until a sound<br /> +Went thro' him from he knew not where<br /> +And said, 'The only way is prayer.'<br /> +He dropped his wings and raised his eyes,<br /> +And sent his soul into the skies.<br /> +He prayed and prayed, and as he prayed<br /> +A wind among his plumage played<br /> +And bore him upward toward his sphere.<br /> +Around his feet from far and near<br /> +There came a sound that seemed to say,<br /> +'Pray on! pray on! we too would pray.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span><br /> +Thy prayer has touched the sleeping Powers:<br /> +Pray on, thy prayer shall yet be ours;<br /> +We too have wings that pine for flight,<br /> +We too have eyes that long for light.'<br /> +Upward he moved, and still his eyes<br /> +Were fastened on the distant skies,<br /> +And as he rose toward heaven dim<br /> +He drew the earth up after him.<br /> +About his feet the oozy clay<br /> +Gripped fast, but could not stop or stay<br /> +His course, till on his skyey stair<br /> +He paused beyond the need for prayer,<br /> +While from the air beneath, around,<br /> +There rose a tumult of glad sound.<br /> +The angel turned the sound to seek,<br /> +And lo! his foot was on a peak<br /> +That fell away to where the world<br /> +Lay like a painted flag unfurled<br /> +And shaken out from sea to sea,—<br /> +And thus the mountains came to be."<br /> +So said the bird, and what the masque<br /> +Of meaning hid, I meant to ask;<br /> +But off he flew before I knew—<br /> +And yet I think the tale is true<br /> +If one could only hear aright,<br /> +And see with something more than sight.</td></tr></table> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="big">LOVE IN ABSENCE</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="1" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Hills crowned with age,<br /> +And solemn seas,<br /> +Are full of sage<br /> +Philosophies.<br /> +Yet, lacking thee,<br /> +I am not wise:<br /> +I need thine eyes<br /> +That I may see!<br /> +<br /> +Insect and bird<br /> +Chant prose and verse,<br /> +God's passion-stirred<br /> +Interpreters.<br /> +Howe'er I seek,<br /> +Their meaning slips:<br /> +I need thy lips<br /> +That they may speak!<br /> +<br /> +Long days that shine,<br /> +Or richly weep;<br /> +The dreamful mine<br /> +Of happy sleep,<br /> +Without thee, give<br /> +A slender part:<br /> +I need thy heart<br /> +That life may live!<br /> +<br /> +Hear then my cry,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span><br /> +And hasten, sweet!<br /> +The world and I<br /> +Are incomplete;<br /> +Poor with all pelf;<br /> +Bound most when freed:<br /> +Thy Self I need,<br /> +To be my Self!</td></tr></table> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="big">TREES IN WINTER</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="1" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Gaunt and spare,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The silly trees</span><br /> +Strip them bare<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To winter's breeze;</span><br /> +<br /> +Yet when July<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sweltered red,</span><br /> +Dressed unduly<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Heel to head!</span><br /> +<br /> +Who will whisper<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Unto me,</span><br /> +Why is this<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Perversity?</span><br /> +<br /> +Bent his head<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A stately beech:</span><br /> +Slowly said<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In gentle speech:</span><br /> +<br /> +"Why, O man! not<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Find a moral</span><br /> +(Though you cannot<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the laurel,)</span><br /> +<br /> +"In our vigour<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And our pelf,</span><br /> +Type and figure<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of yourself?</span><br /> +<br /> +"Sun-kissed amity<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Conceals</span><br /> +What calamity<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Reveals:</span><br /> +<br /> +"Summer glozes<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Stain and scar;</span><br /> +Winter shows us<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As we are.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Well if thou,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In trying hour,</span><br /> +Stand, or bow,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In naked power,</span><br /> +<br /> +"Like the spare<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But sinewy trees</span><br /> +Standing bare<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To winter's breeze!"</span></td></tr></table> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="big">A SPRING CAPRICE BY A ROBIN</span></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Rubato</i></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="1" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Who, on such a day of spring,<br /> +Would be careful how he sing?<br /> +Let the overflowing heart<br /> +Get a start,<br /> +Who shall care if no one knows<br /> +How to find a perfect close<br /> +To his strain,<br /> +When the brain—<br /> +Drunk with sun and hyacinth,<br /> +Primroses and bursting oak,<br /> +And the sower's puffs of smoke<br /> +Over fields of brown—<br /> +Stumbling down<br /> +A melodious labyrinth,<br /> +Somehow, nohow, finds a way out,<br /> +Has his say out—<br /> +And begins it all again,<br /> +Caring nothing how he sing<br /> +When the brain,<br /> +Wild with Spring,<br /> +Gives a start<br /> +To his mad, melodious, overflowing heart?<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Kilcarberry, Wexford.</i></span></td></tr></table> + + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="big">A SPRING RONDEL BY A STARLING</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="1" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +I clink my castanet,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And beat my little drum;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For spring at last has come,</span><br /> +And on my parapet<br /> +Of chestnut, gummy-wet,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where bees begin to hum,</span><br /> +I clink my castanet,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">And beat my little drum.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Spring goes," you say, "suns set."<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So be it! Why be glum?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Enough, the spring has come;</span><br /> +And without fear or fret<br /> +I clink my castanet,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">And beat my little drum.</span></td></tr></table> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="big">THE FAIRY RING</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="1" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Enfolded in the Fairy Ring<br /> +My loved one sleeping lies,<br /> +To simple souls a dreadful thing,<br /> +For half a hundred eyes<br /> +Peep out from where among the grass<br /> +Floats up a magic lay<br /> +To call the souls of all who pass,<br /> +To fairyland away.<br /> +<br /> +But I who know her heart's desire,<br /> +Fear neither spell nor frown;<br /> +For not till fire shall stifle fire,<br /> +Or water water drown,<br /> +Or love hate love, can any harm<br /> +In kindred hearts abide.<br /> +Oh! she can combat charm with charm,<br /> +My elfin-hearted bride!<br /> +<br /> +And ye, whose minds are set to win<br /> +Fame's leaf or fortune's prize!<br /> +Beware the spell that lurks within<br /> +The circle of her eyes;<br /> +For she has power to blow like straws<br /> +Earth's baubles from the hand,<br /> +And call the souls of all who pause,<br /> +Away to fairyland.</td></tr></table> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="big">"LABORARE EST ORARE,"</span></p> + +<p class="center">A RONDEAU OF FIELD-LABOURERS</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="1" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +"To labour is to pray." We heave<br /> +The heavy clay; we dig and cleave;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And knees and hands deep in the sod,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Search out and shape the Will of God</span><br /> +Creation's purpose to achieve.<br /> +<br /> +Slant showers may wound, sharp winds bereave—<br /> +We lift no soiled and suppliant sleeve:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(Sure God and Mary bless the rod:)</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">To labour is to pray.</span><br /> +<br /> +And so we are content to leave<br /> +Prayers for long-headed folk to weave.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We work His Will in ear and pod;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And when His harvest-eyes applaud,</span><br /> +We know—what others but believe—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">To labour is to pray.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Ballymore, Donegal.</i></span></td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="huge">PARAPHRASES AND<br /> +INTERPRETATIONS</span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="big">DAEDALUS AND ICARUS</span></p> + +<p class="center"><i>The Builder of the Cretan Labyrinth and his Son</i></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="1" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Quote Daedalus to Icarus:<br /> +"With rule and plumbline,—thus, and—thus,<br /> +We space and build our labyrinth,<br /> +And build, besides, a graven plinth<br /> +To bear the future fame of Us,"<br /> +Quote Daedalus to Icarus.<br /> +<br /> +Quoth Icarus to Daedalus:<br /> +"Before these Cretans make a fuss,<br /> +And set our names up with a shout,<br /> +Perhaps we'd better first get out,<br /> +And show the master-mind of Us,"<br /> +Quoth Icarus to Daedalus.<br /> +<br /> +Then round and round went Daedalus,<br /> +And out and in went Icarus.<br /> +They parted for an hour's whole space....<br /> +They met upon the selfsame place!<br /> +"I think we're stuck," quoth Icarus,<br /> +"I think we are," quoth Daedalus.<br /> +<br /> +In short, to be perspicuous,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span><br /> +Like this old tale of Daedalus;<br /> +'Spite of our mouths with freedom filled,<br /> +From life's poor trivial things we build<br /> +A maze about the feet of us<br /> +That shuts us in like Daedalus.<br /> +<br /> +But Daedalus and Icarus<br /> +Made wings, and set them—thus, and—thus;<br /> +And that blind maze that hemmed them in<br /> +They sloughed, as drops the snake its skin:<br /> +And so at last shall all of us,<br /> +Like Daedalus and Icarus.</td></tr></table> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="big">A PARAPHRASE</span></p> + +<p class="center"><i>From the Prose of Jeremy Taylor</i></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="1" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +As the silk-worm, shut from sight,<br /> +Cuts a pathway into light;<br /> +Makes on mottled leaves repast<br /> +Till its wormy coat is cast;<br /> +Winds itself in silken weed;<br /> +Sheds the future's pearly seed;<br /> +Leaves behind its dower of silk,<br /> +And with wings as white as milk<br /> +Spread for flight, completes its span;<br /> +So evolves the soul of man.</td></tr></table> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="big">HOSPITALITY</span></p> + +<p class="center"><i>From the Irish, Seventh to Tenth Century</i></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="1" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +O king of stars that watch the night!<br /> +Whether my house be dark or bright,<br /> +Its door to none shall barréd be,<br /> +Lest Christ should close his house to me.<br /> +<br /> +And if thy house shall hold a guest,<br /> +And aught from him thou hast suppressed,<br /> +Not all to him the wrong is done:<br /> +Thou hast concealed from Mary's Son.</td></tr></table> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="big">THE STUDENT</span></p> + +<p class="center"><i>From the Irish, Seventh to Tenth Century</i></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="1" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +High on my hedge of bush and tree<br /> +A blackbird sings his song to me,<br /> +And far above my linéd book<br /> +I hear the voice of wren and rook.<br /> +<br /> +From the bush-top, in garb of grey,<br /> +The cuckoo calls the hours of day.<br /> +Right well do I—God send me good!—<br /> +Set down my thoughts within the wood.</td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="big">AT A HOLY WELL</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="1" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +He dragged his knees from flag to flag,<br /> +And prayed for health with awe-struck brow,<br /> +Then hung his ill's discarded rag<br /> +On the o'erhanging hawthorn bough.<br /> +<br /> +And in the adoring hush that fell,<br /> +I, from the form set inly free,<br /> +Knelt at my heart's most holy well<br /> +And worshipped mine own mystery.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Templemanaghan, Kerry.</i></span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="big">THE PRIEST'S LAKE</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="1" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Beneath the bridge, with noisy rout,<br /> +The Atlantic fills the quiet lake ...<br /> +A pause ... a turn ... then with a shout<br /> +Seaward the brimming waters break.<br /> +<br /> +"Open thy gates," the Spirit saith,<br /> +"O Soul! My wave thy shore shall sweep,<br /> +Then back across the pause of death<br /> +Draw thee with shoutings to the deep!"<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Ardbear, Connemara.</i></span></td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p> +<p> </p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">SONNETS</span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="big">A PAPER-SELLER</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="1" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Clearly, and iterant as a swinging bell,<br /> +I heard across the surges of the Strand<br /> +A woman's voice, and saw a woman's hand<br /> +With "Votes for Women." A sudden vision fell<br /> +Across my path, and made my pulses swell<br /> +With agony of joy: I seemed to stand<br /> +At some far hill, from whence was faintly fanned<br /> +A whisper, "He descended into Hell."<br /> +<br /> +Sister! with foot in gutter, foot on kerb,<br /> +Tasting humiliations's bitter herb<br /> +In thy great calm of self laid wholly down!<br /> +Thine are the thorns of Christly souls who bend<br /> +To lift the world; and thou too shalt ascend<br /> +To thine own Heaven and everlasting crown!<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Strand, London.</i></span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="big">TO ONE IN PRISON</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="1" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Dear! on Love's altar thou hast laid thee down,<br /> +Priestess and Victim of such Sacrifice<br /> +As might melt praise from very hearts of ice,<br /> +But wins the scoff of sycophant and clown.<br /> +Yet in that band, whose glory is the frown<br /> +Of sceptred tyranny and stained device,<br /> +Thou hast a place; and thee it shall suffice<br /> +To tread with them the path to high renown.<br /> +<br /> +And I—even I, unworthy though I be—<br /> +For these my wounds of utter loneliness,<br /> +Tired head and sleepless eyes, some part would claim<br /> +In the deep rubric of thy mystery;<br /> +So may I, in proud years that rise to bless,<br /> +Stand in the shadow of thine honoured name.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Nov. 23—Dec. 23, 1910.</i></span></td></tr></table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="big">A HOME-COMING</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="1" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +What flags are these?... what trumpets?... Oh! what drums?<br /> +What pride august?... what solemn minstrelsy?<br /> +Hush! drums, ecstatic drums: say who is she<br /> +That in the midst majestically comes.<br /> +Is she some queen whose haughty eye benumbs<br /> +Proud potentates; whose word can lift the sea<br /> +Of shattering war, and fling red misery<br /> +Across the world?... Speak, drums! Oh! aching drums!<br /> +<br /> +Hush! hush! wild drums, drums in my happy heart!<br /> +Not thus she comes, my life's exalted queen,<br /> +But in sweet silence far outlauding praise.<br /> +Her's not the flaming sword that puts apart,<br /> +But Right's resistless blade, whose stroke unseen<br /> +Wounds but to heal, and crown with Freedom's bays!</td></tr></table> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="big">LOVE, THE DESTROYER</span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="1" summary="table"> +<tr><td> +Come from behind those eyes, that I may see<br /> +Thyself, beloved! not lip, or hand, or brain.<br /> +These are not thou. These are the servile train<br /> +That crowd me from thine inmost mystery.<br /> +Show me thy naked soul!... or it may be<br /> +That, lacking this, I shall, in Love's mad strain,<br /> +Shatter the form, and sift it grain by grain<br /> +To find thine utter Self—thee—very Thee!...<br /> +<br /> +Ah! Love, forgive!... Be this my penitence<br /> +That in my passion I have glimpsed the goal<br /> +Of all calamity, and surely scanned<br /> +In flood and flame, earthquake and pestilence,<br /> +Love raging forth, to find Love's inmost soul,<br /> +With bridal gifts in Ruin's awful hand!</td></tr></table> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="huge">ENVOY</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="big"><i>THE LOVING CUP</i></span></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="1" summary="table"> +<tr><td align="center"><i>I</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td> +<i>I raise to you, O Queen, this Loving Cup, this Mether,<br /> +Filled with Mead<br /> +Made from honey of the heather,<br /> +Brought by many a humming wing,<br /> +And with water from the spring;<br /> +Mixed by cunning hands together<br /> +In a foamy ferment<br /> +Thou would lead<br /> +Sullen tongues to song,<br /> +If along<br /> +Harpstrings now a rousing air went.</i></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> + +<tr><td align="center"><i>II</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td> +<i>But in this our souls' espousal<br /> +Axe nor skeen<br /> +Throb and bleed<br /> +For the spear-clash of carousal,<br /> +Spoils of slaughter<br /> +Ravening:<br /> +No, for peace has mixed our mether,<br /> +With its Mead,<br /> +O my Queen,</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span><br /> +<i>Made from honey of the heather,<br /> +And with water<br /> +From the spring.</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="center"><i>III</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td> +<i>Ah! but what avail<br /> +Song and ale,<br /> +If beneath our quaffing<br /> +Moves not something deeper than our laughing?</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="center"><i>IV</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td> +<i>So to you, O Queen,<br /> +Here with hands unseen<br /> +I raise my Heart's deep Mether,<br /> +Where together,<br /> +Sweetness brought on Fancy's wing<br /> +From the flowers<br /> +Of happy hours,<br /> +And a draught from Thought's cool spring,<br /> +Blend in song's melodious ferment,<br /> +With an undertone<br /> +Caught in deeper hours alone,<br /> +When along Life's solemn harp the Spirit's air went.</i></td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">NOTES</span></p> + + +<p><i>Etain the Beloved</i>:—This poem is founded on an ancient Irish myth. It +is not a translation from the Gaelic; but rather is an attempt at +transfiguration, by seeking to "unfold into light" the spiritual vision +that was the inspiration, and is the secret of the persistence and +resilience, of the Celt. Such modifications as I have made in the story +have neither archćological nor philological significance: they arise +entirely from whatever measure of insight into artistic necessity, on +the side of pure literature, has been granted to me; and also from +obedience to a view of the universe which is embodied in the ancient +Irish mythology, and whose operations the personages of the story body +forth as Psyche bodied forth the soul of humanity to the Greek.</p> + +<p>The names of the personages may be pronounced thus: Etain—Etawn', +Eochaidh—Yo'hee, Ailill—Al'yil, Mider—Mid'yir.</p> + +<p>Dagda is the Irish God of Day, Balor the Irish God of Night.</p> + +<p>A dun is a fortified dwelling, a liss is a place for domestic animals.</p> + +<p><i>Death and Life</i>:—On Friday, August 13, 1909, the author went by +currach from Dunquin to the Great Blasket Island, Kerry, to visit Miss +Eveleen Nicolls, M.A., who was spending a holiday on the island. Instead +of joining her, as was intended, in music and conversation amongst the +islanders, he had to participate in an endeavour, alas! unsuccessful, to +restore her to life. She had been bathing with a fisher-girl. The latter +got into difficulties in the strong Atlantic current, and an effort by +Miss Nicolls to save the girl ended in the heroic sacrifice of her own +life.</p> + +<p><i>A Schoolboy plays Cuchulain</i>:—Cuchulain, the supreme hero of Celtic +romance, who, single-handed, defended his province against the army of +Queen Maeve. Maeve had chosen for a foray the time when the Ulster +chiefs lay in weakness under a curse by the warrior Goddess, Macha.</p> + +<p><i>Hospitality</i>: <i>The Student</i>:—Put into verse from the literal +translations of Kuno Meyer in "Ancient Irish Poetry."</p> + +<p><i>To One in Prison</i>: <i>A Home-coming</i>:—Occasioned by the imprisonment of +the author's wife for taking part in the active movement for the +political enfranchisement of women.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p class="center"><span class="huge"><i>BOOKS BY JAMES H. COUSINS</i></span></p> +<p> </p> + +<p>THE QUEST. Cr. 8vo. Cloth, 2s. 6d. net; paper-cover, 1s. net.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">"Rarely is it the fortune of the reviewer to meet with verse of such +distinction."—<i>New Ireland Review.</i></p> + +<p class="blockquot">"An imagination filled with haunting and refreshing images."—<i>Black +and White.</i></p> + +<p class="blockquot">"His extraordinary imaginative powers, his skill in painting +word-pictures, and the glamour which he throws over all, are +marvellous."—<i>Irish Independent.</i></p> +<p> </p> + +<p>THE AWAKENING. Royal 16mo. Cloth, gilt, 1s. net; paper, 6d. net. With +decorative borders and cover designed by <span class="smcap">T. Scott</span>.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">"Unique mastery of the sonnet."—<i>Irish News.</i></p> + +<p class="blockquot">"Ripe thought fitly expressed. A new pleasure on each +page."—<i>Glasgow Herald.</i></p> +<p> </p> + +<p>THE BELL-BRANCH. Foolscap 8vo. Boards, Irish linen back, 1s. net.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">"Artistically Mr. Cousins can only be put below the two leaders of +his movement; he has the calm intensity, the subtle strangeness of +simplicity, which seem to be as easy as breathing to an Irish +poet."—<i>The Nation.</i></p> + +<p class="blockquot">"Mr. Cousins has gradually perfected a method of self-expression, +and his verse, exquisitely fashioned, delights with its individual +note."—<i>Northern Whig.</i></p> + +<p class="blockquot">"Many an English poet would willingly sacrifice a page or two of his +consummate verse if he might but catch the charm of such a lullaby +as this."—<i>The Times.</i></p> + + +<p class="center">MAUNSEL AND COMPANY, LIMITED,<br/> +96 MIDDLE ABBEY STREET, DUBLIN.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p class="center"><span class="huge">TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:</span></p> +<p> </p> + +<p class="center">Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.</p> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Etain the Beloved and Other Poems, by +James Henry Cousins + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ETAIN THE BELOVED AND OTHER POEMS *** + +***** This file should be named 38135-h.htm or 38135-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/1/3/38135/ + +Produced by David E. 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