I UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA RIVERSIDE V. sSyK^fC- EDWIN OF DEIRA EDWIN OF DEIRA ALEXANDER SMITH SECOND EDITION Cambvibgc MACMILLAN AND CO. AXD 23 HENRIETTA STREET COVENT GARDEN {The Rirjht of Trandatlon is rescn-ed] t LONDON : n. CLAY, SON, AND TAYLOR, PRINTERS. CONTENTS. PAGE Book 1 1 Book 11 47 Book III 88 Book IV 128 TOUQUIL AND OONA 173 Blaavin ISl BOOK I. EDWIN OF DEIEA. BOOK I. With hasty rein from off the bloody fiek\ Prince Echvin with a score of followers fled Toward King Eedwald's border — thither drawn By hope, which was twin-brother to despair' — Tlie grey King Eedwald, though to him unknown, Long time his father's friend, who ruled a land In peace beyond the vapour-burdened hills. But Ethelbert upon the fliers swooped Lilce peregrine on pigeons, strilving do-u-n And scattering. EdAvin 'scaped, but 'scaped as one "Wet-fetlocked from the Morecambe tide, that brings 2 EDWIN OP DEIRA. Sea-silence in an hour to wide-spread sands Loud with iDack-horses, and the crack of whips. And on the way the steed of steeds beloved Burst noble heart and fell ; and -with a pang Keener than that which oftentimes is felt By human death-beds, Edwin left the corse To draw the unseen raven from the sky ; Then fearful lest the villages of men Might babble of his steps to Ethelbert, Certain to sweep that way with clouds of horse, He sought rude wastes and heathy wildernesses Through which the stagnant streams crept black and sour. Once, coming on a string of traffickers, With laden mules bound for a town, he hid Within the hollow of a ruined oak Till the blue evening steaming from the ground Made the star wink ; then, signalled by the owl, He from his hiding stole. Wlien earth was red With set of sun he passed into the land EDWIN OF DEIRA. 3 Of reed and fen, by many a wing be-clanged, And all the night he journeyed, while o'erhead The windy heaven streamed from east to west, And dim in vapour, keen in azure gulfs. The feverish stars pressed forward to their bournes. Midnighted thrice in wilderness he saw The far-meandering lake beneath the moon, Flicker in silver round a woody isle — The lake he oft had heard of. And he knew Another day woidd bring him to the Court Of the grey King who for his father's sake "Would shelter him in this his sore distress. 'Next morning, from the sandy hills he saw The bare blue desert of the sea flow out In glittering wrinkles 'neath a cloudy dawn ; And when the sun burned through the mists, and grew A mass of blinding splendour that out-rayed, He dipped into the valleys. On through woods, And roadless meads he passed, till at the hour b2 4 EDWIN OF DEIRA. "V^^len fiercest is the light, lie weary came To a ravine that broke down from the hill "With many a tumbled crag : a streamlet leapt From stony shelf to shelf : the rocks were touched By purple foxgloves, plumed by many a fern ; And all the soft green bottom of the gorge "Was strewn with hermit stones that sideways leaned, Smooth-cheek'd with emerald moss. Here Edwin paused To quench his thirst, and rising, was aware Of a gay youth that slid from off a rock "With cordial greeting and toward him came : Slender as any girl : the golden hair, That plenteously unto his shoulders hung, Di-\dded, gave to view a happy face Pure red and white as apple bloom pn bough. He was a page, he said, at Redwald's Court, And going thither, " Thither go I, too," Quoth Edwin ; " and have travelled since the morn. If it mislikes thee not, companionship. EDWIN OF DEIRjV. i> Poor as mine own, may kill a weary mile." So without farther parley on they went — One blithe in spirit, and as gaily dight As goldfinch s^vingmg on a thistle top ; Tlie other sad of brow, and in attire As homely as the sparrow that has chirped Its whole life long upon a smoky thatch. And as they wall^ed, the stranger full of life, Grew garrulous on Eedwald and his sons. To him the Prince gave eager ear, though oft The kingliness behind the cloud put out A ray that dazzled, to be swift withdrawn. " Eedwald," he said, " was grey and sad of blood. A man that, rooted in a bitter past, Drew sap enough to keep the trunlc alive, Eut not enough to make the foliage green. His seven sons, hound-footed, falcon-eyed, The maddest men for hunting, Avho could rest No more than could the winds." And then his speech Brightened like water round a sunbeam. " Ah, b EDWIN OP DEIRA. The Court is richest in a maid that comes Like silence after hoof and bugle-blare ; Who owns the whitest hand, the sweetest cheek Air touches, sunlight sees. And Time, like one Who in the task delights, with every grace And glow is dressing her, so that to-day Shames yesterday, to-morrow shames to day." From this height soon he fell and 'gan rehearse The petty spites and scandals of the Court : How the King's frown had dimmed the warrior's arms, How the proud lady scorned the faithful knight. How all that day the forests would be loud With hound and horn, how 'twas the King's intent That night to give a feast to all his lords, Himself upon the dais. As Edwin winced, The page turned smiling. " See, my tongue runs on Of court and courtier, princess, prince, and king, Unmindful of thy business ! Let me knoAv. Perchance in me resides some little power To gain the audience of a mighty lord. EDWIN OF DEIRA. Though in the stirrup were his hasty foot — Glad shoukl I be." In strange sort Edwin smiled. » " "What trade have such as I with mighty lords 1 'Tis with King Redwald that my business lies. A king is like the unexcepting sun That shines on all alike." Discoursing thus They entered on a broad and public way "WTiereon were travellers and lively stir, And now a maid, and now a knight went past With light upon his armour ; and at length, The while the press was growing more and more, They came upon the palace, vast in shade Against the sunset. Noisy was the place AVith train and retinue, and the cumbrous pomps The feasters left without. The steeds were staked Upon the sward, and from the gates the folk. Busy as bees at entrance of a hive, Swarmed in and out. Men lay upon the grass, Men leaned with folded arms against the walls. Men diced \vith eager hands and covetous eyes 8 EDWIX OF DEIRA. Men sat on grass witli hauberk, greave and lielm And great bright SAVord, and as they sat they sang The prowess of their masters deep in feast, — How foremost in the chase he speared the boar, How through the terrible battle press he rode, Death following like a squire. Prince Edwin paused On his companion's shoulder laid his hand With something like affection. " Here we part ; Thanks for thy courtesy. If I regain That which my father on his death-bed left, This day thou wilt remember. Fare thee well." Thereat the page into the palace went : But Edwin sat without till darkness came. And dicers all had vanished ; then he rose And, entering, claimed an audience of the King, Eor his was instant business, life and death. The seneschals swift bustled to and fro Eegardless ; but at last it reached the King That the waste dark had given up a man That sought his face and would not be denied : EDWIN OP DEIRA. » Tlion at liis wish, the haggard Prince was led To the great hall wherein was set the feast ; And at his step, from out the smoky glare And gloom of guttering torches, weeping pitch, A hundred bearded faces were upraised, Flaming with mead : and from their master's stools Great dogs upstartmg snarled ; and from the dais. The King, Avhile wonder raised the eyebrow, asked Wliat man he was 1 what business brought bim there ? When Edwin thus, the target of all eyes : " One who lias brothered with the ghostly bats. That skim the twilight on their leathern wings, And with the rooks that caw in airy towns ; One intimate with misery : who ha^ known The fiend that in the hind's pinched entrail sits Devising treason, and the death of kings — Famine the evil-visaged — that once faced, There is no terror left to scare a man. 10 EDWIN OF DEIRA. Tliough my associates are tlie horrible shapes That press on dying eyes in wUdernesses Where they must stare unclosed, this hand I stretch Is native to the sceptre, knows its touch Familiarly as thine. Though hunted like Some noisome beast, that when it steals abroad The cry spreads, and the village rises up With sticks and stones to kill it, I have seen, When I but oped my mouth, men look as if It thundered in the air." As from a crag That rises sheer from out the fresh-blown surge, Upsprings a smoke of sea-fowl, puff on puff, Untn the air is dark vdtla. countless wings And deaf with plumy clangour, from the feast Broke laughter. When it ceased, the smiling King With the intruder played. " Whence comest thou ? What king art thou 1 wdiere doth thy kingdom lie 1 In earth or air ] and if indeed a king, EDWIN OF DEIRA. 11 Though ne'er stood king in such unkingly plight, Wliy hast though been so strangely companied By midnight and the owls'?" Tlien Edwin cried — " list fell hunger and the mountain wind To tlie loud bruit of fed prosperity, That never can be neighboured with distress ! No height so high, but you can fall from it. Earth counts ten graves for every living man ; A single scroll contains our \'ictories, But 'tis a dreary volume, that the names Of our defeats o'erflow. I was a king. Have been destroyed in battle, lost my home, Have fed on berries like the moorland birds ; Have drunk the stream that tameless creatures drink, — Slept where I could. Thou ask'st me who I am ? From whence I come 1 From Deu-a do I come. I am that Egbert's son who loved thee well. Oft thou and lie were tenants of one crib — 12 EDWIN OF DEIRA. Two growing apples reddening clieek to clieek Upon the self-same bough — two pebbles glazed By the same wavelet's hand. In Egbert's name — Egbert these twenty years in earth — his son Claims shelter from thee." When he ceased, and w^hen A murmur grew among the guests, whereia Doubt with assurance clashed, the King arose, A sudden flash of colour on his face, Of which, if half was pleasure, half was shame, And in the seeing of the spacious hall Stepped down, took Edwiu in his arms, whUe speech Came Hke a hurrying brook that overlays Eddy with eddy, watery swirl with swirl. " Something of this I heard, as one immersed In boundless woods, the falling of a tree : Who hears a sound, but cannot tell from whence, Nor whether nibbling centuries of tiaie Or wo'odman's axe hath sapped it. 'Twas thy fall ! EDWIX OF DEIRA. 1 'Twas thy name rumour babljlcd indLstiuct ! And thou art come unto thy father's friend For shelter ! Thou shalt have it. Would that thou Iladst asked for something costlier. So disguised So covered up ! — ^but never murky cloud Let slip so fair a sun ! 'Tis Fortune's trick To muffle up her gifts in dusky hulls, That, when they throw their mantles off, surprise INIay richness over-double. Egbert's child ! Xay, his OAvn self returned again to run A large career of noble deeds, and reap An aftermath of fame. It is a sight To make me young again ! Wliile I peruse The lips, the nose, the colour of the curls, The build of brow, the contour of the cheek, The wdld-hawk eye, and when, as now, thou smil'st, The foce's sunbeam — all this melts away. And through the cloudiness of forty years I see thy father and myself, when we, Like twin lambs, raced across the meads of youth. 14 EDWIN 0¥ DEIRA. Happy as lambs, and innocent as they — WMle our young lives were bright as silks uncreased, Or daggers neAvly gilt ; the careless days "When life was May and full of singing birds ; Before that we had seen or kissed our wives j Ere thou, young su", wert thought of. Welcome here ! Although it were the son of mj own loins Long absent from these eyes, I could not grace His coming with a single smile beyond These now I give thee. Welcome, yet agaiu ! But now have meats and di'hiks : the moorland fruits And streams I thank, for hunger will enrich This my poor table more than cups of gold. Sit here beside me, 'twixt me and my sons — I*lay, as thou art. At bed-time, doff these weeds. Thou art a new found jewel, and to-morrow We'll have thee richly set." Then Edwin stepped Across the dogs that lay upon the floor. EDWIN OF DEIRA, With clroAvsy muzzles on tlieir outstretched paws — Oft starting into voice as if they chased And bayed the boar in dream, and took his seat On the right hand of Eedwald, 'mong his sons, A kingdom's strength upon a battle day. The lordliest game of forest and of hill Made the board paradise. Sheep, steer, and boar, And stags that on the mountain took the dawm High o'er the rising splendours of the mists, Were plenteously there. All fowls that pierce In wedge or caravan the lonely sky, At winter's sleety whistle, heaped the feast ; With herons kept for kings, and swans that float Like water-lilies on the glassy mere, Nor these alone. All fish of glorious scale, The fruits of English woods, and honey pure Slow oozing from its labj-rinthine cells, And spacious horns of mead — the blessed mead That can iinpack the laden heart of care — Tliat climbs a heated reveller to the brain. 15 16 EDWIN OF DEIRA. And sits there singing songs. And seated high, 'Mid torches' glare and glimmer, minstrels sang Mailed gods of war, grim giants, kings who walked In the grey davm and morning light of time Statm-ed like towers ; kings whose huge bulks of bone Unmouldered, yet are seen in twilight caves, Like some old galley with its sea- worn ribs Half-sunk in ancient sands. And, while they sang Of blazoned banners streaming on the wind, Of arrows splintering on the brazen breast. Swords red from point to hilt ; of trumpets blown. Shred armour, floundering horses, cries of men, The light of battle burned in every eye, Shouts bm'st from bearded Hjds be-drenched with mead. Swords and cuirasses rusting on the wall Clattered as life were in them. So the feast, Led by the minstrels' scaling voice, and hand In fury 'mong the harpstrings, roared, till davm, Let through a loophole, fell on torches burned, EDWIN OF DEIRA. 17 The upset goblets of the deep debauch, Lords tumbled on the rushes. But long ere that The King, with EdAvin, and liis seven sons, Left the fierce feasters maddening with the song. A spacious chamber facing to the east "Was Edwin's, who threw down his wearj^ length. And, like a fallen column, slept till morn. Then touched by earliest beam, he waking, stared With a blank eyeball, troubled as a man "WHio dies in sleep and wakes in another world. The chamber broke upon him weird and strange — He knew not what had been, or Avhere he was — Till, like the lightning come and gone at once, Swift memory supplied the missing link And knit him with himself. He rose at last, Unbreathed on by the cold ungracious air That lives in waste and wilderness, and saw A pile of raiment in the chamber, heaped 18 EDWIN OF DBIRA. In I'oltl and golden crease. Enclothed, he shone Like some gay kingfisher whose flight illumes A river's sandy bank. His rich cap lay Upon the rushes when the King came in, AVith a "good morrow" in his face and eve. Well pleased, he laughed, "So, so, the grub has cracked To a rare butterfly ! Did'st rest as well Wlien thou wert ligging 'neath the round-eyed oavI, And heard him scold his brethren of the waste? Come with me to the lads, for tliey at noon Will fly their falcons, and the sport will be The gayer for thy presence." Then he letl, Through a long passage, toward a noise of dogs That ever nearer gi-ew, and entered straight A mighty chamber hung with horn and head ; Its floor bestrewn with arrows, as if War Grown weary of his trade, had there disrobed And thrown his (quiver down. And in the midst The brothers stood in hunting gear, and stroked EDWIN OP DEIRA. 19 Great brindled dogs, that leapt about their knees, And talked of them the while, and called to mind How this one charged the lowering luouutain bull, What time he stood affronted in the glade And the spurned earth flew round him in his rage ; How the boar's tusk made that one yelp and limp The day he came upon hi in in the brake. "Lads," quoth the King, still holding Edwin's hand, " I've brought a iaii companion for your sport. Strive which can bend the stiffest bow, which train The swiftest hound, the highest towering hawk." While welcome danced within their cordial eyes, While one by one they grasped the Prince's hand, And while the dogs, suspicious, sniffed his heel, xVnd while an eager babble broke of hawk And steed and hound, and arrow-head and spear, In at the door a moment peeped a girl, Fair as a i-ose-tree growing thwart a gap Of ruin, seen against the blue when one Is dipped in dungeon gloom ; and Redwald called, c2 20 EDWIN OF DEIRA. And at the call she througli the chamber came, And laid a golden head and blushing cheek Against his breast. He clasped liis withered hands Fondly upon her head, and bent it back. As one might bend a downward-looking flower To make its perfect beauty visible, Then kissed her mouth and cheek. " My Kttle one, A morsel to these lion whelps of mine. Yet pearl to pebble, precious gold to iron, There came last night a stranger to our Court, Who brought with him a face from out the grave, And with an ancient friendship warmed my heart. He stands in centre of thy bretlrren there Worthy thy dearest greeting." As she turned (Half-breaking from the arms that softly held) A happy blushing face, with yellow hair And sweet eyes azure as the flaxen flower, Tlie dim air brightened round her, and her voice Brake into silvery welcome, then so stopped That its surcease was to the ear what light EDWIN OP DEIRA. 21 Withdra'ttTi is to the eye. The Prince, through all The hurry of his j^ulse, returned her gi'ace In ceremonious phrases — stately set, Cold in themselves, yet tinged as by a dawn Of coming passion — Avhen the King broke in, Words that a kiss foreran, "l!^ow go, my gii"l; Tliou shouldst be very fair ; thy coming stole Thy mother from me. After last night's bout. Day will be grateful to our heated brows. Our guests have gone, a fiery throat with each That will no more let stream go by unlapped Than thirsty dogs in July. "Whilst we go. Thou canst the story of thy ^^Tongs relate, And then rejoin the lads." So, with these words, Eedwald led Edwin forth. And while they walked Toward the rookery, the Prince rehearsed How Ethelbert, tolled on by plunder's bell, Wasted his borders for these many years ; 22 EDWIN OF DEIRA. How when, a month ago, the routing boar Pierced to his kingdom's heart, in haste he hid His mother, with tlie women and their broods. Within the secret places of the liills, And raised a host ; and how, one summer's day, His squadrons dashed upon the iron foe Effectless as the rainy flaws that smoke On precipices that o'er-frown the vale ; And how, at a most dismal set of sun. He saw his files lie on the bloody field Like swathes of grass, and knew that all was lost ; And how, when the piu'suit grew fierce and fell, A hut he entered, blazoned like a king, And issued thence a peasant ; how he fled For days and nights toward his father's friend, TUl, as he knew, last night, a famished man He burst upon the feast. At this he dashed Fierce tears aside, that broke upon a cheek Stormily crimson, as the light that burns Upon the bellied wry-necked thunder-cloud. EDWIN' OF DEIRA. 23 Pif'iiring itself from out the inky east Against the spokes of sunset, and he cried, " Though earth and heaven l)oth had knit their hands To grant my wishes, I would only ask To be once more before him host to host ! Ye iron destinies that rule the world From injury preserve him till that day ! From knife, disease, and heaven's snaky fire That licks up life like water, keep him free ! For every limb of that same Ethelbert Is dearer unto me than to his Queen; She never pined for him in all her love. Or cursed the hours that kept them separate, As I do in my hate. 0, I could kill him Fondly as e'er she kissed him ! King, my realm Is sorrow and the memory of wi'ong ; My courtiers are the ghosts of happiness. Yet unmixed evil lives not. Fallen low, I see a new proportion in the world, 24 EDWIN OF DEIRA. ^Vud lieai* another murmur of events. Although the wafture of its muffted vans Be noiseless as the downy owlet's flight, I hear thy commg ruin cHiuh the wind. In me as in a mirror see thyself. Fear this wild Ethelbert. 'Tis not my cause Alone 1 plead, hut every prince's cause. This man would break down all our diadems. And with the gold and jewels build his own. He has a stomach for us all. Nor think 111 him ambition is a phantasy Of idleness engendered, and as frail As stream of summer vapour, which the crag Tears with its horns, the suidight can drink up. For years within his dark and constant mind The monstrous thing has grown. Ko hand but Death's Can root it out. 'Tis like a poisonous tree For ages anchored in a castle wall, Whose gnarled and fingery roots so clutch the stones, That, plucked up, all is ruin. Well, what then? EDWIN OF DEIRA. Ik'tter the arrow stayed upon the string Tliaii shivered on the breastplate." Edwui's words Came like a mountain torrent swollen with rain AdoAm a long ravine of cataracts, Ending one chafe of foam. The King replied, In measured words devolving smooth as oil : " I need not say, in earnest of my love, Were I assured it would thee reinstate, In the red hand of "VVar I'd strike my own. And clasp it as a friend's. "Were I assured — Alas ! my heart is like a troubled seer. And speaks a cloudy language. Ethelbert Is strong in towns and men — most subtle-brained. Most proud of heart — yet roughly generous To those that with submission flatter him. Defore the forthright motion of the wind Bend like the sapling ; when 't has overblown, 26 EDWIN OF DBIRA. Erect thyself at pleasure. For mj^self, Thovi hast a boding eye that can discern A tempest brewing in the sunny noon. If a portentous cloud should climb the sky, (Though I protest I see no present sign), Some shelter will be found ere o'er my head It splits in rain and fire. Why search for ills That wander o'er the wilds of phantasy, Whicli, if we seek not, we may never see 1 Be not downcast, although the heavens frown ; The gods oft use us as we use our babes, And snatch our plaything from us for a time ; Be patient, 'tis returned. Perversely fight, The frail thing oft is broken. Do not fear ; Prosperity, like the swallow, comes and goes : To-day there is the ruinous clay and straw ; To-morrow, sAveetest twitterings fill the eaves. The wretch plunged knee-deep in the whirling drift (Jannot believe in summer, yet it comes "With all its singing birds. Keniember, Time EDWIN OF DEIRA. Works often to some fair accomplislmieiit, "Which we impatient, purblind, cannot see. And in our eagerness stretch forth a hand, And that one act mars all." Then Edwin cried, " There is scant comfort in thy words. No more The births of time we can prognosticate 'i'han the next phantom of a madman's brain ; Or than the shape that yonder travelling cloud- Now to my fancy headed like a wolf — Will crumble into next. Most wretched he, Unreasoning Chance's pensioner, who lives. Like the blind beggar at the high-way side, ( )n alms of passers-by. I have been taught The world is nothing but a mass of means, — AVe have but what we make ; that every good Is locked by nature in a gi-anite hand, Sheer labour must unclench. The forest trees — Do they fall round u;? into builded homes 27 28 EDWIN OP DEIRA. Without an axe or arin ? The blowing winds Are but our servants when we hoist a saih Eedwald, Redwald ! be not like the owl That dozes witli a wise and solemn face In its own midnight, in the blaze of day. Xot for myseK I speak, but aU for thee. The ravening wolf hath bui'st into the fold Of peaceful kingdoms ; 'tis the untouched herd, iNot the torn carcase, that has cause to fear. Thou yet art standing in thy pride of place, I've known misfortune's worst ; and, like a soul Refuged by death from all calamity, Nothing can hurt me more." Then Redwald's face Grew troubled, for his spirit, peering out Into the future, blenched at sorq^thing there. Uneasily he spake. " Draw once the sword, In a strange world 'tis sheathed. Wlien war- winds blow. Kingdom's break up like clouds. I would thee serve. EDWIN OF DEIRA. I '.lit dare not set my dwelling in a blaze To warm thy If&nds. But let this end to-day : In private council I will take the thing, And do not doubt that, through the voluble throng Of diverse reasons, love for thee wiU plead — An advocate silver-tongued. Come now, the lads Will fly their hawks at noon." Then, like a man That brings a painful interview to end, Txu'ned on his heel the King, and instant went Toward the Palace. Edwin at his side Walkeil, with ignited heart that fumed within. Slow clhnbing to a clear bright flame of rage. Both silent. When they reached the Palace front. The brothers stood about the gate with grooms And steeds, and falconers with hooded hawks. Eager to ride. And Redwald, with pleased eyes. Gazed on that carcauet of noble youth, The poorest of whose seven precious stones 29 30 EDWIN OF DEIKA. Would have enriched a realm, till Edwin sprang Into the saddle, and away they rode Toward the mass of woodland in the west ; And when the last gay rider disappeared, Witliin his countenance pleasure's fire went out, And left it dark. He entered full of thought. "With muffled sound, fair glimmered man and horse Down forest aisles, bedipt from plume to hoof In dancing light and shade ; and issuing thence As from a roof, the riders burst in day On an uneven waste of hillocked sand, Shagged with rude grass, and patched with withered furze, With the great dazzle of the sea in front. And as along they rode, though Edwin flashed The general gladness back, as sea the sun, Kept up the game while each derided each. Paying gay jest with jest — 'twas like a man High-capering to no music — for the wit Ached at the heart, and loud liis laughter rose EDWIX OF DEIRA, 31 To hide its want of joy. Some three leagues on, Taking the wind upon a purple moor, The happy Princes, riding hitherto Close as a clump of primroses, broke up And curvetted in twos ; and as they broke, Eegner, the rose of all the WTeath of sons, SpuiTed his horse up to Edwin's, di-ew the talk Slowly from this and that, to last night's feast, Thence to the overtlirow, and by what means The pit-maker should fall into the pit. The ruiner be ruined. Eiding thus — Prince Edwin lightening with his wrongs, the while. By the true virtue of an open ear Blonde Eegner drew the grief that stagnated In bitterness about the heart away — they dipped Down on a shining water-course, that led To mountains closely dra\^ai, and came at length On a great boulder, black with pine, flung down In the gorge's throat ; and, rounding it, they split A second tune. Like pearls upon a string, 32 EDWIN OF DEIRA. Each after each, they tlirid a ruinous glen, All silence, toppling crag, and falling stream. Where nothing moved except the vapoury smoke From the abyss, or slowly crawling cloud That hardly can sustain its weight of rain, Eating the sunshine up and blackening all — Since earthquake passed that way. At last, they reached The gloomy tenant of that gloomy place, A lake of sadness, seldom sunned, that stretched In sullen silver from a marge of reeds To far-flung gloom of precipice and peak. That on the northern side kept back the day. As on the ruined shore the eight drew rein, Uprose the startled heron with a scream, Waking the echoes of that region dern ; And Edwin, Avith a stranger's privilege. First threw his hawk. Then Eegner, riding near. Watching his countenance, caught his eye, and cried, " When 'gainst the heron Elhelbert thou fliest, I follow in thy track, come weal, come woe !" EDWIN OF DEIRA. 33 And, rising fiercely in liis stirrup, Hung His falcon into air. A glorious sight To see tliem scale the heaven in lessening rings Till they as motes became : while here and there About the strand the eager brethren rode, "With shaded faces upturned to the blue, Now crying, " This one has it ! " and now " That 1 " "When suddenly, from out the dizzy sky, Dropped screaming hawks and heron locked in fight. Leaving a track of plumes upon the air. Down came they struggling, wing and beak and claw, And splashed beyond the rushes in the mere. Amid the widening circles to the waist, A falconer dashed and drew to shore the birds. All dead save Edwin's falcon, that, with claws Struck through the heron's neck, yet pecked and tore, Unsated in its fierceness, Eegner laughed At the weird omen, though liis colour rose. " I cannot guess," quoth he, " how this will come Unless I with thee to the battle ride, 34 EDWIN OF DEIRA. So that is fixed. Brave falcon, witli thy heart Burst on thy foeman's bill !" He gave his steed The spur to hide his face. His brethren stood Dashed for the moment ; and no more that day Was falcon thrown from fist into the sky, Or from its airy poismgs to the lure Brought with a whistle. Soon the dreary lake Lost princely voice and clang of iron hoof, And as the six rode on the omen died, And was entombed in laughter; farther on, Heading the riders down the ruinous vale, Eegner and Edwin moved abreast, while love Grew up between them purely — all untouched By haughtiness, or thought of selfish end ; The noble love that lives in noble men ; That is ashamed of its own nakedness. And hides itseK in deeds, — would not be seen, And tongueless lives and dies. And riding thus Toward the palace, Eegner talked of days When all would be at peace within the land, EDWIN OF DEIRA. ■so And each man have his own inlieritance, Be it cot or citied realm : and how they twain, When cro-wndd kings, would through the country ride, Teacliing civihty and raising man. Till on the highway there should not be heard A rude word, and till gold might lie untouched. So talking, EdAvin knew that they approached The palace : neither mount, nor stream, nor tree, Nor landmark, noted as they rode at mom. Foretold its nearness, but a heart that swam In new delight, like summer setting suns In colour. As they rode, betA^een the twain Speech died; and, when the billowy woods drew off. And gave the palace clear in afternoon, Its turrets rose in a delicious clime, And sacred as her garment's licm had grown, Its utmost pale and limit As they came. The noise of hoofs brought Eedwald to the door, A shallow ray of Avelcome in his face d2 36 EDWIN OF DEIRA. That faded soon. Like one preoccupied "With his own thoughts, he asked "What sport ? whose hawk Had highest towered ? which struck the quarry down 1 And heeded not the answer when it came. All the dismounted j^rinces then he led To a great board set forth with meats and drinks, And, as he sat and carved before them all. And as the talk rose high among the sojis, His face to Edwin — who with anxious eye Sought there the future — seemed a doubtful' day Beyond the skill of prophet to predict "Whether 'twould darken into thimder shower Or clear to azure and a golden set. With promise of fair morrows. Moody-browed He sat at feast and moody -browed he rose And went out, leaving Edwin and his sons. Then, after interval of sportive talk, Eegner brought all the table to the hall "Where in the morning he had stood with dogs; EDWIN OF DEIRA. 37 But changed its grisly furniture, for now Twilight had settled down upon the world, AnOOK 11. So when the light was springing in the east, Unkennelled staghounds bayed, men's voices rose, Steeds pawed and clanked their bridles. Then, equipped In liunting gear, Prince Edwin and the rest Trooped forth with spirits gay as their attire ; And with the dawn, and like another dawn, But fairer. Bertha came. Amid the dogs They mounted, and the instant that the sun Stood on the hill-tops, prodigal of light, They rode with wondrous clatter on their way ; And ever as they in their joyous haste Skirted dim forest, forded shallow stream — In which the sun had thrown a spear that lay Golden on amber pebbles — pushed o'er heath. 48 EDWIN OP DEIRA. The sound that gaily travelled on before Woke all tilings ere they came. For when afar At instance of a strong-lunged forester, The sudden bugle on the rosv cliff "Was splintered into echoes, from the marsh The heron screaming rose ; wn.tliin his wood The mountain bull stood listening to the sound, Silent as lowering thunder, when the winds Are choked, and leaves hang dead ; and from his lair Eose, with dew-dappled flanks, the stag, and snuffed Their coming in the wind — a moment stood, His speed in all his limbs — but wdien tlie pack Dragged with them down the echoes of the vale And opened out, he fled, with antlers laid Along his back like ears. Halloo and horn Broke then upon the breeze. Now on his flight By flying wood, o'er wastes, thro' streams that splashed High o'er the saddle girths, the hunters hung. And ever as a slowly burning fire Consumed the space between. And, as it happed, EDWIN OF DEIUA. 49 "When the iiicrcasiiiy sun grew liot and strong In an impetuous whirl of stormy chase, The Prince and Bertha were alike throAvu out. The rest ne'er drew a rein, for now the troop, AVith long-haired Reguer far in the advance, Was pressing hard upon the weary brute, Sore-panting, black with sweat. Around a crag Tliat with his gloomy pines o'er-hung the vale. Swept hunt and hunter out of sight and sound. They Avorc alone, and in the sudden calm, When round them came the murmur of the woods Upon a sweeping sigh of summer wind — () moment private chamber, Avlicre the King 5i EDWIX OF DEIRA. GiA^es his seleetest audience. "\Mien they came, Without a pause, the strange man opened out His treacherous purpose with a shameless brow, And guessing, as I deemed, the King was weak, And must in any strife go to the wall ; (_)r that the coward dwelling in his heart A\''ould prove the ally in the house, and fling Out to the foe the keys of every gate, He scorned to lacquer the accursed thing (Which in the first flush of its hideousness, Like a fanged snake, might malvc a man shriek out) With glozing speech. And wisely. Deeds like these (]!orrupt in their excuses. Ethelbert, I gathered from their converse, having heard That thou art come for shelter to the court — (111 fall the little bird that sang the news), Threats war on Eedwald if he stands thy friend — Sharp war that will not spare a living thing. If he betrays thee, gold is his, and part Of thy dismembered kingdom. Long they talked — EDWIN OF DKIRA. 55 I heard the chiiik of goldeu argument, While Kedwald's mind swayed this way now, now that, And now he would betray thee, now defend. Thus hearing, from my hiding-place I stole To warn thee hence if not indeed too late. There is no time to lose. This very night The foul thing may be done ; strange whispers pass Throughout the palace. Openly his sons ]\Iarvel at what's afoot. This moment fly — I know the secretest sequestered paths And hiding places that ne'er saw the day." As nightmared man — wdien solid-seeming ground Breaks do-wTiward in a cliff precipitous And on the sheer edge leaves him, dizzy -brained. Toppling o'er death, — strives to regain the morn And the sweet healthy world. Prince Edwin strove In coils of monstrous evO, and at last. Trampling the foul thing underfoot, he smiled. 56 EDWIN OP DEIRA. " I owe thee many thanks for thy regard, And for this cruel kindness more than all. Out of thy love for me, thou ui-gest flight — The falcon liath its nature and the dove, And by that nature is each motion shaped And every beat of Aving. Thy master's hearth Hath warmed me, at his table have I fed, Drunk of his cup, and 'twere the vil'st return By hasty flight to call him traitorous To dead and living. Doubtless, this bad hour But swims a vapour o'er the heavenly lights That will be clear anon. But if, indeed. His spii'it liarbours murder — if the knife Has bloody fascination for the hand — T have no power to cover up my throat, 'Tis naked to its using." Tlicn the Page — " Eemain a while within the friendly dark, And ere the thing draws to a Avicked head, Poisoned and fanged, and raised in act to sting, EDWIN OF DEIRA. 57 1 will rejuiii tlice here, and lead thee far ; And, if it melts in nothingness away, I'll be the blithest bearer of good news That ever ran. So cloak thyself in night. I will into the palace, where I'll tread With foot of air, made up of ears and eyes." '\\Tien he was gone, the Prince, with heavy heart. Not knowing what to do or where to turn. Sat on a stone, a bow-shot from the gate, Sore troubled. In his cloak he wrapt liis face Like one who hears the coming foot of doom And waits the end. ]lour passed on tardy hour, And in the dreary middle of the night The late moon rose, and then he groaning said : " All, miserable me ! My soldiers bleach Beneath the moon, and she wlio bore me, sleeps On flint beside the waterfall, begirt r>y widows, and by children, and by all 58 EDWIX OF DEIRA. The congregated sorrow of a realm Most sorrowful. And I, Avho can alone Bring to my people roof-tree, fire, and law, And build again for them an ordered state, Sit here an outcast, and the door is shut. And Ethelbert, my deadly foe, like air Enclips me round, and there is no escape. Ah, wretched ! for to me the healthy world Is poisoned and deranged ; where'er I go Worth turns to baseness ; and sweet love itself That dwells with weary hinds, and makes the load To the galled shoulder lighter, brandishes With snow-soft arm a burning torch for me That but reveals the face of a despair That darkling stood, and all my prison's strength — A prison wide as the unbounded world, Whose walls are my own life. To-day I've fallen From summer, and the song-bird and the rose. To a dark ground, exempt from light, that breatlies The earthy horror of a new-made grave, EDV.'IX OF DEIRA. 69 And those Avlio should he unto me as friends Stretch hands to push me in. So h>t it he : Death heads the mighty count of human ills, And every man can die. And in the grave All hatred and revenge are haulked at last ; ^Nn smiles that murder hide, no star of love Lighting my steps to ruin, no bloodhound Hoarse baying on my track, can ever more Disturb my quiet. A great sea of peace, ( )n which was never boat nor puff of wind, 'Twixt me and sorrow flows." Thereat down pressed With grief he forward leaned, as forward leans The bulrush when the stream runs swift with vain. Thus like one carved he sat, till suddenly He felt upon liiiii breathe an icy wind, And with an unknown terror every huir From heel to scalp arise ; then lookuig up 60 EDWIN OF DEIRA. He saw in that lone place a dark-robed man Stand like a pillar in the setting moon ; And at the sight Prince Edwin's heart stood still. " "What man art thou that sitt'st on this cold stone AMien every bird, its head beneath its vnug, Is sound asleep upon the forest bough?" " It matters little where I sit o' nights." " I know thy name, and why thou sittest here. I saw thee sleeping on the naked ground With but a rainy sky for coverlet. I know thy story and the things thou fear'st ; What wouldst thou give if I turned Eedwald's heart And mad(! him draw the sword in thy defence 1" " I have not much, but I would give thee all." '• ^\Tiat, if 1 clothe thy limbs with mightiness ? EDWIN OF DEIRA. ''1 What if, in f'ai' diiys when tliou tak'st tlie iiekl Ik'iieath tliiiie ancient banner wide displayed, 1 give thee spoil and captive 1 If I give Her soft voice to thine ear, her lips to thine. Her white arms to thy neck 1" " mock not so ^ly sharp distress : for any good I'll be 'Miost answerably grateful." " If I build Thy throne secure against the flaws of time ? If I send teachers that will teach thee more Of the dark world that lies beyond the grave Than if thy ftvther's ghost did speak with thee — Teachers as never king in England had ? " " Who speaks vnth. me 1" cried Edwin starting up. " Thy voice is like a trumpet that proclaims Something, I know not what — but at the sound Through pallid ash the embers of my hope Have burst in flame. I tremble at the brightness." 62 EDWIN OF DEIRA. " Who speaks with theo thou canst not know as yet ; But," here he laid his hand on Edwin's head, ""When next this sign upon thy body conies The promise thou hast given me remember." And lo ! before the Prince could utter word The moon had fallen and the man was gone. He knew it was a spirit with him talked ; And Hke an idol-stone uncouthly hcAvn In image of a man, the astonished Prince Sat folded in his cloak the while the words Went wandering through the regions of his mind Like thunder 'mong far hills. Slowly the woods Came out in ghastly glimmer, slowly dawn Stained the horizon with a beamless red. And when the risen sun outstretched his lance O'er dewy earth, a sound of voices stirred Around the palace and iinfroze his limbs. And as the world swam back into his brain, 63 EDWIN OP DEIRA. He threw the darkness with his mantle ofi', And started at the morning's hicid walls Grown up m silence round him. And the Page, Eight in the glory of tlie level beam, Came running from the shadowed palace-gate, Dawn in his face, and called him with a voice Sweeter than any grove of singing birds Tliat ever waved, an emerald of ^lay. " Prince, unto the palace come again. The messenger has gone witli angry heart, And like a cobwebbed banner from its nook Where it has hung for ages, taken down And streaming in the wind, the King cries 'War!' In the rude shaking of the boughs, rich fruit Will tumble in our laps." And then the Prince, With an vmiluttcred countenance and eye, Like one who has ah-eady heard the news, Arose and followed him within the gate. They reached the chamber hung with horn and head, 64 EDWIN OF DEIRA. Aiitler and weapon, -wlu're Redwald np and dowii, Much troubled, paced with (;[uick impatient starts. IJertha sat weeping, but the brothers stood, Their bold hearts tingling to the stirring time, Its light was in their faces, like proud crags High up, that wear the morning ere it conies. The King turned sharply as the Prince approached : " Whether to bless or curse the hour I know not That blew thee here, for everything hath clashed In broil since then ; things unconceived have bred Their strangest opposites, as eagles doves, And fruit trees poison. I that did thee love Have listened with no inattentive ear To the sweet music of the nmited gold That foul betrayal urged ; and I that clung To peace — that fattens beeves, and tills the mead, And fills the bursting barns with harvest-home — Have, like a passionate whipster, drawn a sword That fruitless blood must paint. In even poise The issue hung ; and, lo ! a chitling's tears — EDWIN OF DEIRA. ' Tliis lily tlirovii into the trembling scale The heavier only by some dewy drops — j\Iakes wisdom kick the beam. Within my heart Tliere beats another heart that is not mine : I go, but like a steed that chafing goes. I am an arrow by some unknown hand Drawn tensely to a mark. Here yestermorn, As now thou knoVst, a man came from thy foe With gold m one hand, in the other war, Demanding me to give thy body up. I kept thee, and chose war. So take my sons. My towns, my horses, arms, and goodly men ; Enclothe thyself in all niy kingdom's strength, And try the hazard of a bloody field. Which will, I doubt not, to the right incline. And with its dust at sunset shape a throne — Which, howsoe'er it tiu'n, must cost me dear — And, now what can I more V And Avhile the King Went on thus chafing, Edwin's sleepless heart Grew silent, as an eagle's famished brood 66- EDWIN OF DEIRA. Huddled upon a ledge of rosy dawn, When sudden in the blinding radiance hangs Their mighty dam, a kid within her grip, Borne off from valleys filled with twilight cold That know not yet the morn. Yet somewhat sore At Eedwald's cautious balancings and doubts, He fiercely spoke : " I do suspect me, King, The self-same wind that pushed me out to sea ^Now blows me into port. Yet, as I hold The golden apple in my fortunate palm, I need not all too curiously inquire Upon what bough it grew." At that, Eemorse, In generous crimson, rushed to cheek and brow. And .shook his voice. *^ Redwald, I could thee thank, Upon the gratefulest knees that ever knelt On ground. But, though these words of thine surpass All other sounds that ever reached my ear. As angels men, I thrill with no surprise ; For, sitting on a stone without thy gate When gold was being Aveighed against my life. EDWIN OF DEIRA. rt7 I knew a morning feir as this would break, And to this interview I Avalked assured, As one wlio hath been absent but a day Into his house, where table, bod, and stool. Have places kept since childhood. And I know This morn is prologue to a hapi)y act : The future rises like a curtain up, And, shadow-like, I see a battle won And a recovered throne. And once more, King, A world thou'st given me wherein to live ; I also crave the dawn to make it fair, To gild its forest tops, to light its streams. To set a rainbow in its cloudy gloom, To fill its soft green vales with tender light, That I may see the work grow 'neath my hands — Thy daughter Avhom I love." At the King's feet She sat, and, hearing, over neck and brow Brake morning ; and, as love is foced like fear. Or wears fear's mask, she hid her own and shrank ; f2 68 EDWIN OF DEIRA. And, shriiLking, like a sudden biirst of light, The iminiprisoned splendour of her hair In coil on coil of heavy ringlets fell, And veiled the face that burned through hands close pressed, And clothed her to the loiee. The King down glanced. And caught the sweet confusion, while his spleen "Went out in Avords, like thunder's dyuig groan, When tempest passes, and reveals again The azure and the sun. " And dost thou, too, Fret ui thy nest's confinement, and desire To flit away into the boundless world And range therein with some gay-feathered mate The summer through 1 We fathers are the soil In which a second generation grows : From our decrease it draws the youthful sap That keeps it green atop, '^aj, weep not, gM ! Press not against my knee in that wild Avay A cheek all flame and tears. I cannot chide : It is the very order of the world ; EDWIN OF DEIRA, We have our seasons, even as the flowers. And I, when I did once a daughter seek, Made thick a father's heart. Some twenty years, This hour may be thine OAvn. Most gladly, Prince, When time hath tried thy steadfastness of heart, And when the wayward fowl, Prosperity, Ptoosts in thy boughs, I'll see her wife of tliine, Wearing Avith thee the crown. So, sweet, arise. And give the man thy heart hath chosen out From all his fellows a pvu-c hand in pledge Of faithfulness — the one assured thing He ever will possess upon the earth." She heard, and, all untouched by virgin shame, False and unworthy then, erect she stood Before her father and her brethren seven. Pale as her robe, and in her cloudless eyes Love, to which death and time are vapoury veils That hide not other worlds, and stretched a hand, Which Edwin held, and kissed before them all In passionate reverence ; smitten dumb by thanks 69 70 EDWIN OF DEIRA, And noble shame of liis unwortliiness, And sense of happiness o'erdue. Aiid while The Prince's lips still lingered on the hand That never more could pluck a simple flower But he was somehow mixed up in the act, She faltered, like a lark beneath the sun Poised on the summit of its airy flight, And, sinking to a lower beauteous range Of tears and maiden blushes, sought the arms That sheltered her from childhood, and hid there. Shaken by happy sobs. " Prince," quoth the King, The while his palm lay on tlie golden head, " I count myself this day most fortunate In that, by the sweet ministry of love, (Which was to me invisible as spring, Shaping itself beneath the winter's white,) I see the future fairly form and flow From happy throne to throne. I am no more A cliflf that fronts a waste abyss of air — Beyond me seem to glimmer cultured fields EDWIN OF DEIRA. ''^ And a contimied wovUl. ]My heart feels light With children yet to be. But those sweet days Are distant, and the present in our path Stands like a grisly thistle spiked with spears, That will draw blood from the bold hand that grasps. I do remember me there was a time When fight was keenlier wooed than any girl ; And, though my fires are wasted, even iiow This withered hand is hankering for a lance- Even now these feeble knees compress a steed, And the wild rank tears onward— and I hear The combat's music when great spears go crash, When through the dust of fight the clarions blow. And red blood springs. 'Tis but an old man's dream. And other hands must rule the battle now : Take Regner to thy council : think it out. Be wise, be wise, yet be not over-wLsc — Plot like an old man, execute like youth — We will discuss thy plans around the board. Come, Bertha !" So they went, nor did love's sun 72 EDWIN OF DEIRA. Vouchsafe a beam at parting. Then the sons, His brethren now, came crowding round the Prince With joyful faces, and ^^dth many a wish That the miraculously blossomed time V/ould ne'er its vermeil promise falsify, But come to happy fruit. And Eegner threw His arm round Edwin's neck, for elder love Claimed a fond precedence, and, brother-linked, They passed through gates to sunshine, and then struck Adown a road, tree-shaded, silent both, Though many a thought was stirring at their hearts. At last. Prince Eegner, on a ruined dyke. Hoary with lichens, with each crevice bossed And bulged with mossy emerald, sat, the while The sunlight, broken by the thronging boughs, Splashed his great limbs, and Edwin standing near, And all the lonely greenness of the place. Then turned he, smilmg : " Edwin, when I dreamed Of distant days when we twain should be kings, EDWIN OF DEIR.V. Ruling our realms in poacefulness and joy, Yet with the awe of justice intermixed — With a most perfect friendship, good to us, And to our people ever issuing thence — I did not count on such a day as this. In which the dearest sister in the world Hath made us brothers, not in love alone, But by the SAveetest tie that ever knit A man to man." Then, as a sudden wind Swayed over bough, and broke the mass of light Into a swarm of golden butterflies, That danced and bickered o'er the velvet sward, Then slowly grew to one. Prince Edwin said : " I know that I am happy ; I know not How happy — and I may not ever know ! I am as one engifted in a realm, AVhose wide unskirted boundaries and shores He will not have encompassed round about When he is hoary gi-own." Then Eegner's laugh Rang like the blacklnrd's whistle, loud and clear. 73 74 EDWIX OF UEIRA. When all the woods ai'e breathing after rain. " It is a churlish bird that will not sing Against the ray. Bridegroom will be bridegTOom," The mirth died in his face as he went on. "Thou wilt be my superior in this war; At pointing of thy sword 'tis mine to ride, Though it point straight to death. Yet let me speak Before I sink into a place wherein My duty is obedience absolute. The morning after thou didst on us burst Like one on fire, telling the King thy wrongs, In likeness of a harper with a harp, I sent one privately to gather news. Last night he came, and told me how distressed Is that fair land in which thine enemy dwells ; How conflagrations redden every night, And how the mead on which he halts a space Looks, when he leaves it, as if charred by fire. But now by some fair wanton meshed and toiled, The King a canvas town of pleasure spreads, EDWIK OF DEIRA. And lays his arms by for the moment. Well. The voice now running through my father's land Will make each knight collect his plump of spears, The smith his hammer on the anvil leave, The hind his lowing oxen in the trace, And hither will they troop. King Ethelhert Was drawing this way, when his heart was caught By white arms, glittering eyes. Yon range of hills, On which the heaven leans AN-itli rack and cloud, Is all that stands between us. Swiftly lead Thy files up tlirough a world of mist, and crag. And dashmg Avaterfall, and from the height, Upon the flushed King in the wanton's lap, Drop like the thunderstone and crush liim out, — Him and his strength for ever." Edwin then : " But all the perilous passes ! Canst thou guide ?" And Regner, bearing on like stream at flood, " I know the region dwelling in the mist As do the wild blasts penned within it; come. And let us lay the thing before the King." 70 EDWIN OF DEIRA. So they arose and to the palace walked, Through wondrous fantasy of light and shade That danced and glimmered with each sigh of Avind, And entering, found a plenteous table spread ; And soon the King came in, and then the sons, But Bertha's place was empty all the while. Then, through the progress of the stately feast, The question of the conduct of the war Drew all discourse, and Eegner opened out His plan, and held it swiftest, simplest, best : Affirmed that Ethelbert, in pleasure drowned, "Was helpless as a leveret in a snare ; That Edwin need not fear his guidance up, For that he knew the misty mountain world As the fierce torrent knows its native gorge, Through which it has run white a thousand years. With Eegner every brother gave his voice ; The King was doubt-perplexed, and slowly moved. Like a clogged wheel, till Edwin, who had sat EDWIN OF DEIRA. Silent among tlie talkers, suddenly, Like a grave echo from a mountain height That startles, gave his full adhesion in. And, driven thus from point to point, the King To half-enforced agi'eement warmed at last. They rose from table when the midnight hung. An emerald twilight up among the stars ; All night the Prince tossed restless on his couch, With trumpets blowing in his ears, a sword Haunting his hand; but with the whitening dawn Sleep brought a shock of joy, for, out of Avaste And formless horror, Ethelbert and he Fell grappling, and in tight rolled o'er and o'er, Mid plunging horses, in a hug of death. Then with the rising of the third day's sun. As wave doth shoulder wave toward the isle When thither sets the tide and blows the breeze, Till in the silence of its central vale Is heard the surgy murmur, ti'oop on troop 78 EDWIN OF DEIRA. Pressed round the Palace ; and Prince Edwin gazed Down on the living sward, and saw a knight Go prickmg through the press in harness rich, Dark groves of footmen standing in their ranks, Mares whinnying from the stake, and from the wood, Slow trickling through the light, a rill of spears. And as he gazed iipon the joyous scene His forward-pushing spirit made his face Pale, as a man's who, with a resolute heart, Towers in the breach at daybreak, hand on hilt, 'Wlien shouting comes the foe. Descending then. He found the King and all his seven sons Standing in hall amid a hundred lords, Bro^vn-cheeked, fierce-eyed, long-bearded, mighty- limbed, "Who from each corner of the realm were bade To battle, and who came as to a feast. Walking from martial knot to knot that buzzed "VVitli all the fiery pleasure of the time. King Redwald made each chief to Edwin known. EDWIN OF DEIRA. 79 Summed up the spears he Ijrought, and proudly flashed A hurried sunbeam o'er his foregone life, Tliat made each brave deed sj)arkle jewel-like, And wandering up and down among the lords. More loud the din of preparation grew — The sudden opening of a door let in, The neigh of steeds, clashed anvils, countless fires Blistering the noontide air, and on the skirts Of tumult, oft a coming trampet blown. And Eertha in an eastern turret sate. That took the sunrise lilce a cliff, and heard The steed neigh, and the coming trumpet blow. And knoAving that her life Avas being shaped By Fate's dark hands, that heed not sob or tear. Above the tumult, like a thing divine, Arose her voice. To this effect she sang — " On many pastures man can feed his heart; He drinks the wine of travel to the lees, 80 EDWIN OP DEIRA. His is the sceptre and tlie golden crown, His is tlie strife and glory of the field; But ours the empty couch on which he lay, The listening at the gate for dreadful news, The breaking heart, and biuding up of wounds." So all the land around the Palace glowed "With upward-strikiug fires when fell the night, And shapes of men went flitting through the glare, Gigantic. From the ruddy distance came Tlie hum of thousands, and steed neighed to steed : The minstrels sang great battles to the lords. But, in his hand the reius of all the host, Tlie Prince, with Redwald, Eegner, and the rest. Sat liaK the night discoursing, grave and sad, For ia the presence of the war each heart Was clear and naked as a sword unsheathed. The minstrels ceased, the Palace hglits burned Ioav, The circle round the King arose at last. Beside a thousand fires the army slept, EDWIN OF DEIRA. 81 Except the watcher leaning on his spear, Or when, affrighted by a falling brand, A war-horse reared and snorted at the stake. At the first wmd of daAvn the thousands woke And rolled into their places, rank on rank, Expectant, ready, shadowing large as groves ; But when the sun arose, and was afar Mirrored in dewy la"\vns, a window oped. At which King Redwald and his daughter stood With eyes of sad farewell. A bugle's cry Went tingling to the roots of every heart : And, ere it died, from out the Palace gate The Princes issued 'gainst the level rays That burned on breast and helm, and, at the sight. The host rocked like a forest in a storm, The banners shook, with clash and cry they cheered The lords of Battle. Then, as the army moved Onward, like thunder's cornigated gloom KoUing o'er desert liills, with fire reserved 82. EDWIN OF DEIRA. For other lands, the wistful hearts and eyes Of those within the silent Palace left Hung on its dusty rear. Spears ceased to flash And horns to sound. At height of noon it hung Cloud-like upon a ridge ; and as a cloud, If the hot sun but touch it with a beam. Crumbles into a livid dust of rain Leaving the rock-lme clear against the sky, The shadow passed. And nothing now stood 'twixt The act and issue. And soft-plumaged Time, That ere Avhile Avith a soundless wafture shot From ruddy sunrise to all-swallowing night, Fanned hearts to fever with his creaking wings. Still as a rooted flower tlie Princess sate, With face intense that ever searched the north For the first glitter of retui-ning spears. The grey King whitened in the Aveary hours, And watched with vacant eyes, bewildered hands That worked, and had forgot at what they worked EDWIN OF DEIRA. 83 Then at the simple carol of a Vnx\ He started, with a scared look in his face, As if he feared from out the invisible air Something woidd break in lire. Each morn and eve He questioned, like a voyager who knows That land is somewhere hidden in the sky, And, weary of the ocean's silence, thrusts A haggard face into the eyes of dawn And reads no news, and, when the long day falls "With its great torch of sunset o'er the west, Revealing nothing, sickens. But afar, On the sixth day, a courier Avas descried Swift-hasting, like a solitary cvoav Winging the empty heaven. Out of doors The people, on a sudden impulse, shoaled Impetuous, but only to be hui't By the keen shaft the archer Sorrow sent Before he came himself. The panting man Caught these Avords from the top of dilheult breatli : " The Held is ours — Prince Regner's ghost has tied — G 2 84 EDWIN OF DEIRA. King Etlielbert is cold, and all his lords — They broke at sunset ! " — As a lill is lost In ocean's mnrniur, all the rest was di-owned In lamentation and a bitter cry ; And then, besurged by w^eeping multitudes. The man was borne into the Palace hall, Where Bertha lay at the King's feet, while he Stood up before them, mute and stony-eyed, Like one so far o'ercome by sore distress That he no sharpness knows, and can but wring Piteous incapable hands. And then the man Eehearsed the story of the bitter field : — " Hanging upon the midnight hill we saw Their watch-fires dot the plain. Slow broke the morn. All damp and rolling vapoiu', with no sun, But in its place a moving smear of light, And through the mist we heard a trumpet blow. By mid-day we were on them ere they knew, And Ethelbert, like some wild beast at bay. Fought but to kill, while he was being killed. EDWIN OF DEIRA. 85 For him Prince Edwin and Prince Eegner sought ; And though so knit in love their noble hearts That each would give the other all he had, Yet each grudged each his death. So Avhen the sun Broke through the clouds at setting, on a mound, Lifted in seeing of the swaging fight, Stood Ethelbert, surrounded by his lords, Known by his white steed and his diadem, And by his golden ai-mouv l)lurred with blood. 'Gainst him with but a single score of knights The Princes spui-red. Many were ridden down In shock of onset. Eegner's horse was speared, And, rearing with fore feet that pawed the sky, Fell backward on his rider, in whose side A thirsty arrow stuck. Prince Edwin then, "With axe and arm up to the elbow red, Drove up his horse 'gainst Ethelbert' s, and struck, Crushuig the diadem and head at once, And rode him down, and spurned him with his hooves. Then, as a tent when the main pole has snapped 86 BDWIX OF DEIRA. Falls into ruin, all the army fell, On the King's death. By this, the sun had set. They fled before us, drove on drove, like sheep, And Edwin, Kke one famisliing for blood. Headed the chase, and night held up her moon, To light us to the slaying." WT^iile the tale Was being told, the people sUent stood, But at its close their grief broke out afresh, When some fond memory brought back Regner's face, His gait, his voice, some cordial smUe of Ms, And all the frank and cunning ways he had To steal a gazer's heart. The long day waned. And, at the mournful setting of the sun, Up through the valley came the saddened files, With Eegner's body borne ou levelled spears. And, when they laid the piteous burden down Within the gate, with a most bitter cry The loose-haired Bertha on it flung herself, And strove, in sorrow's passionate unbelief. To kiss dead lips to Ufe. The sternest hds EDWIN OF DEIRA. Were wet with pity then. But when the King Was, like a cliikl, led up to see liis son, With sense of woe in woe's own greatness droAvned, With some obscure instinct of reverence For sorrow sacredcr than any crown, The weeping people stood round, hushed as death. 87 BOOK III. EouND Eegner's miglity cor.ge, upon tlie moimd, Prince Edwin and tlie brethren weeping stood In the red dawn, while all the men hung back. And Edwin, Avhen he heard his charger neigh, Clasped hastily their hands ; and, having bade The noblest man that e'er lay dead on field A sad, eternal farewell with his eyes, He, with a slender following of knights, Passed onwards through a solitary land. O'er wastes that wore the silence of the sky, O'er ferny hills that autumn rusts like iron. And, when he came into his ruined town. The news spread swift as sunrise — touched high moors • EDWIN OF DEIRA. 89 And waterfalls that never ii'is wore, And every natural fastness wherein men Had fimig themselves in haste, and stood at bay. And, at the news, toward the blackened walls Thin rills of people 'gan to trickle dovm. The barren slopes, uncertain ; for each heart. Like some frail bough from which an evil bird Had fled on dusky wing at step and shout, Was trembling even yet. And with the first Of the returning folk, like one that steps Sudden from momitain vapour, from a grief That brooked no fellowsbii), his mother came, "With aspect unsubdued by woe — nay, raised, Like something smit by heaven's fire, and more Majestic in its ruin than its prime : More queenly — wearing sorrow's dreary crown^ And robed in bitter -wrongs — than when she moved In youthful beauty, and the diadem Paled in more golden hair. The people fell liack from her side in simple reverence, 90 EDWIN OF DEirtA. Auel made a lane for sorrow. Tall she stood, Like some old druid pillar by the sea, Whose date no legend knows, with all its length Eaten by foam-flakes and the arrowy salts Blown blighting from the east, and wildly gazed Upon the blackened ruins of her home, Once loud with marriage joy, oft hushed by death, With working nether lip, while native pride Scorned weakness back into her heart, and strove To shut a door on tears — in vain — she stretched Fond arms of passion out, that Edwin sought In sudden night, then weeping like a cloud She hung upon his breast. Though dimmed awhile By natural sadness, from that fond embrace He raised a countenance like a rising sun — Such an infectious light was in his eye. Such hope and courage in his resolute voice, Such noble scorn of all calamity, That from his glance it shrank, a fearful shade That into nought dislimned. A difficult hour EDWIN OF DEIRA. 91 To try the pitli and si)iiit of a man ! For gathered there the helpless people stood, I'oolish and timorous as a plump of sheep That shoots this way, now that, and only held rjompact by barking dog and shepherd's cry : He, like a flame that rises on the wind, Feeding on what it fights ^^^.th, cried aloud : — " The robber that hath robbed us is struck down— The fire that wasted us is quenched in blood ! Courage, my friends ! new dwellings we ^v'ill raise And fairer, from these ashes ! " Then, in mood King-like, he grasped an axe, and first disturbed The forest's silence with a falling pine. The shock struck heart through the uncertain crowds — Each spirit rose as from a weight reheved — At once the hundreds were alive like ants, S^nft-swarming to repair tlieir citadel. Crushed by a heedless foot. Ere tAvice a month The town aro.si', a palace in its midst. And giixlled round by horror-breathing pines, 92 EDWIN OF DEIRA. From whose unwilling tops the vibrant wind Drew a hoarse murmur like the wintry surge, A temple stood, by deities made dark, Whose ears were closed to didcimer and lute, Wide to the clash of shields. And all around The voice of industiy in wood and field Came back again, like some old pleasant tune Long broken off, renewed, or silver stream That sinks in earth, then, reappearing, flows A mirror for the flowers. Once more the smoke Uncoiled itself in evening's crimson air, Once more the kine from out the pasture lowed. Again "udthin the solitude of Avoods The muffled axe was heard. But ever when On Edwin's heart the apparition came. The old familiar world that hummed around, Like mountains hanging green within the mere Disturbed by dimpling breeze or lone canoe. Became a weird confusion — something, nothing — Commixed and mingling in the spinning brain. EDWIN OF DEIRA. 93 As months went by, his motlier Donegild, Though still a ruin, was a iniin sunned, Whose rents and fissures tell of thunderstroke, But thunder long ago — wliere pain is not, But only, in the quiet summer light. The gentleness of natural decay. And iu the silent lapse of prosperous time The bow of Edwin's spirit was relaxed. In evil days he was the mole that broke The dangerous surges of calamity, — Now wind and wave were down. The commonwealth Was well cemented, and could stand alone. Without his staying and supporting hand. In the surcease of effort, love grew strong And widened from that sweet point in the past, As the pure pool of moonrise in the east Soaks through the cloudy textm-e of the sky, Till, in the tenderness of light, the woods Grow flakes of blackness, and the monstrous forms Of everlasting granite, clamiied with iron, 94 EDWIN OF DEIRA. Lose all their horror, and transfigured stand Soft as the stuff of dreams. Across the hills Time's gentle ministry was also felt ; For now the grassy mound of Eegner's grave Had grown a portion of the accustomed world — Famihar as the shapes of distant hiUs, And hardly moving sorrow more than they. Drawn by a heart that boded happiness, Thither Prince Edwin rode, with all his train, Feasted a week — the Avhile the ancient King Was clad with flowers of holiday — and oft In hall, in greenwood, 'neath the evening star, In Bertha's half- turned ear, he chid delay. For she was coy as is a backward spring That will not take possession of delight Xor all its buds disclose. And Eedwald watched With smiling eyes, remembering liis own youth. The amorous war of sunbeam and of snow. And swore it was the way of bashful maids To turn a sour face on the sweetest thing — EDWIN OF DEIRA. To pine for love, and then, "whene'er it comes, Fly with a red scared face. In his young days Their mothers did the same. At last, the Prince Drew the green bud to a sweet rosy tip, Thence to the open flower ; and, when he went, The death of Eegner was made up. Again King Eedwald had his wreath of sons complete. So, in the very depth of pleasant May, When every hedge was milky white, the lark, A speck against a cape of sunny cloud. Yet heard o'er all the fields — and when his heart Made all the world as hajipy as itself — Prince Edwin, with a score of lusty knights, Eode forth a bridegroom to bring home his bride. Brave sight it was to see them on tlieir way, Their long white mantles ruffling in the wind, Their jewelled bridles, horses keen as flame Crushing the flowers to fragrance as they moved ' iN'ow flashed they past the solitary crag. 96 EDWIN OF DEIRA. jSTow glimmered tliroiigh the forest's dewy gloom, Now issued to tlie sun. The summer night Hung o'er their tents within the valley pitched, Her transient pomp of stars. "When that had paled, And when the peaks of all the region stood Like crimson islands in a sea of dawaa, They, yet in shadow, struck their canvas town, For love shook slumber from liim as a foe. And would not be delayed. At height of noon, When, shining from the woods afar in front, The Prince "beheld the Palace gates, his heart Was lost in its own beatings, like a sound In echoes. When the cavalcade drew near, To meet it, forth the princely brothers pranced. In plume and golden scale ; and, when they met, Sudden, from out the Palace, trumpets rang Gay wedding music. Bertha, 'mong her maids, Upstarted as she caught the happy sound, Bright as a star that brightens 'gainst the night. AVhen forth she came the summer day was dimmed. EDWIN OK DEIUA. 97 For all its sunshme sank into lier hair, Its azure in her eyes. The princely man, Lord of a happiness unknown, unknown. Which cannot all be knoMni for years and years — Uncomprehended a,s the shapes of hills When one stands in the midst ! A week went by, Ueepenuig from feast to feast; and, at the close, The grey priest lifted up his solemn hands. And two fair lives were sweetly 1)1 ent in one. As stream in sti-eam. Then, once again, the knights Were gathered fair as flowers upon the sward, While, in the distant chambers, women wept, And, crowding, blest the little golden head. So soon to lie upon a stranger's breast. And light that place no more. The gate stood Avide— Forth Edwin came enclotheil with happiness. She trembled at the mui'mur and the stir That heaved around : then, on a sudden, shrank. When through the folds of downcast lids she felt Burn on her face the Avide and staring day, H &8 EBWIK OF DEIRA. And all the curious eyes. Her brothers cried, "V^Tien she was lifted on the milky steed, *• Ah ! little one, 'twill soon be dark to-night ! A hundred times we'll miss thee in a day, A hundred times we'll rise up to thy call, And want and emptiness will come on us ! Xow, at the last, our love would hold thee back I Let this kiss snap the cord ! Cheer up, my girl; We'U come and see thee when thou hast a boy To toss up proudly to his father's face, To let him hear it crow ! " Away they rode; And still the brethren watched them from the door Till purple distance took them. How she wept. When, looking. back, she saw the things she knew — The Palace, streak of waterfall, the mead. The glooray belt of forest — fade away Into the grey of mountains. "With a chill The wide strange world swept round her, and she clung Close to her husband's side. A silken tent EDWIN OF DEIRA. ^' They spread for her, and for her tiring girls, Upon the hills at sunset. All was hushed Save Edwin, for the thought that Bertha slept In that wild place — roofed by the moaning wind, The black blue midnight with its fiery pulse — So good, so precious — woke a tenderness In which there lived uneasily a fear That kept him still awake. - And now, high up, There burned upon the mountain's craggy top Their journey's rosy signal. On they went ; And as the day advanced, upon a ridge, They saw their home o'ei-shadowed by a cloud ; And, hanging but a moment on the steep, A sunbeam touched it into diisty rain ; And lo the town lay gleaming 'mong the woods. And the wet shores were bright. As nigh they drew, The town was emptied to its very babes. And spread as thick as daisies o'er the fields. The wind that swayed a thousand chesnut cones, And sported in the surges of the rye, u 2 100 EDWIN OF DEIRA. Forgot its idle play, and, smit with love, Dwelt in her fluttering robe. On every side The people leapt like billows for a sight, And closed behind, like waves behind a ship. Yet in the very hubbub of the joy, A deepening hush went with her on her way; She was a thing so exquisite, the hind Felt his own rudeness ; silent women blessed The lady, as her beauty swam in eyes Sweet with unwonted tears. Through crowds she passed, Distributing a largess of her smiles ; And, as she entered through the Palace gate. The wondrous sunshine died from out the air, And everything resumed its common look. The sun dropped down into the golden west, Evening drew on apace; and round the fire The people sat and talked of her who came That day to dwell amongst them, and they praised Her sweet face, saying she was good as fair. EDWIN OF DEIRA. 101 So while the town hummed on as was its wont, With mill, and wheel, and scythe, and lowing steer In the green field; w^iile, round a hundred hearths, lirown Labour boasted of the mighty deeds Done in the meadow swathes, and Envy hissed Its poison, that corroded all it touched — Rusting a neighbour's gold, mildewing wheat, And blistering the pure skin of chastest maid — Edwin and Bertha sat in marriage joy From all removed, as heavenly creatures winged, Alit upon a hill-top near the sun, When all the world is reft of man and town By distance, and their hearts the silence fills. Not long ; for unto them, as unto all, Down from love's height unto the world of men Occasion called with many a sordid voice. So forth they fared with sweetness in their hearts, That took the sense of sharpness from the thorn. Sweet is love's sun within the heavens alone, But not less sweet when tempered by a cloud 102 EDWIN OF DEIRA. Of daily dutie.s ! Love's elixir, drained From out the pure and passionate cup of youth, Is sweet : but better, providently used, A few drops sprinkled in each common dish Wherewith the human table is set forth, Leavening all with heaven. Seated high Among his peoj^le, on the lofty dais, Dispensing judgment — making woodlands ring Eehind a flying hart with hound and horn — Talking with workmen on the tawny sands, Mid skeletons of ships, how best the prow May slice the big wave and shake off the foam — Edwin preserved a spirit, calm, composed, Still as a river at the fidl of tide; And in his eye there gathered deeper blue, And beamed a warmer summer. And when sprang 'Fhe angry blood, at sloth, or fraud, or wrong, Something of Bertha touched him into peace, And swayed his voice. Among the people went Queen Bertha, breathing gracious charities, EDWIN OF DEIRA. 103 And saw hut smiling faces ; for the light Aye I'ooks on hriglitened colours. Like the dawn — (Beloved of all the happy, often sought In the slow east by hollow eyes that watch — ) She seemed to husked and clowTiish gratitude That could but kneel and thank. Of industry She was the fair exemplar, as she span Among her maids ; and every day she broke Bread to the needy stranger at her gate. AU sloth and rudeness fled at her approach; The women blushed and curtsied as she passed, Preserving word and smile like precious gold ; And, where on pillows clustered children's heads, A shape of light she floated thi-ough their dreams. But when the gentle Queen was growing pale With the new life that stirred beneath her heart, Her brethren rode up to the Palace gates. Dismounting there, they greeted first the King, Then kissed her every one. They brought with them 104 EDWIN OF DEIRA. Another kingdom's wonders, which revived And lived around the table ; and their stay Was that long sumnxer's glorious hunting time. All day they roared like winds within the woods, Kept every echo busy with their horns, Coursed saddest wastes, and broke on lonely pools With margins lily-paved — that knew no change Except the snowy convoluted cloud Down flowing to new shapes without a sound. One evening when the hunters sat at feast With Donegild and Edwin, and the Queen, In silent mood, compact of life and death, Like day and night in twiliglit, out they broke In speech which, somewhat antic in attire. Yet wore most true smcerity at heart. One cried : "Dost thou remember when we dwelt In the old world of blue transparent air Beyond the hills, seven mighty beechen bolls. The day reposing on our sultiy heads, EDWIN OF DEIRA. 105 And thou, the trembling windflower at our feet, Which no rude wind dared wag till tliis man came 1 " Another then took up the tender thread : " We missed thee, little sister, as a man Reft of the special jewel from his neck With which he loved to play ; and, when his hand, Unthinking, wanders to the empty place, lie starts to find it not ! " And then a third : " Great changes have come o'er us since thou went'st. The poor old father, Avith his grief-bleached head. Still whitens ; and the thought of Regner's death Yet wears him as a torrent wears a hill. There is no spring of life in these old men, And the lopped branch can put forth no fresh leaves- As they are, they remain. Yet, thanks to Time, Whose touch alone can numb the bitter wound. Our Regner's coming would be now as strange, 106 EDWIN OF DEIRA. And would as huge unfitness wear to all, As did his going hence. The saddest grave That ever tears kept green must sink at last Unto the common level of the world ; Then o'er it runs a road." And then a fourth : " Ay, the old lamp is sorely scant of oil, And gutters in the wind. A gentler hand Than ours it needs to trim the fallen wick And shelter the stiU flame until it dies !" And so they talked and talked about the past In which we mortals sweetly rooted stand. Week after week their going was delayed Till the heath reddened on the rock — till, like One golden-mouthed, September preached decay "With all its painted woods. And ere they went, In Bertha's fragrant bosom lay asleep The sweetest babe that ever mother blest — A helpless thing, omnipotently weak ; EDWIN OF DEIRA. 107 ^aked, yet stronger than a man in mail — That, witli its new-born struggling sob and cry, Softened the childless Palace, and unsealed Fountains of love undreamed of. Tenderness Made every arm a cradle, every voice Soft as a cradle-song. Star-like it lay In Donegild's dark lap, wliilo o'er it she Crooned, like a druid forest, weirdest songs. And as one poring on a precious seed, Creates a phantom of the future plant With odorous terraces of leaf and bloom, Fairer perchance than ever sun will woo — Edwin upon the infant gazed, until Before him rose a nobly-statured man, Unmarred by sloth, by all excess unstained. Pure-hearted as a girl, whose edge of will 2^0 stubborn grain could turn — wise, resolute — The kingly crc)^v^l his natural covering, As matted hair the hind's. And Bertha hung Over its slumber all the live-long day 108 EDWIN OF DEIRA. As moveless as a willow that o'er-droops A well, the wliile there is in all the world N^ot wind enough to turn a silvered leaf. So the boy throve into his second year, And babbled like a brook, and fluttered o'er The rushes, like a thing all wings, to meet His father's coming, and be breathless caught From the great foot up to the stormy beard And smothered there in kisses. And whene'er Edwin and Bertha sat in grave discourse Of threatened frontier and the kingdom's need, If tlie blue eyes looked upward from their knees, Their voices in a baby language broke Down to his level, and the sceptre slipped Unheeded from the hands that loved his curls Far more to play with. Every day these twain — Two misers with their gold in one fair chest Enclosed — hung o'er him in his noon-day sleep Upon the wolf-skin — blessed the tumbled hair, RDWIN OF DKIRA. 109 ('hcek pillow-dinted, little mouth hulf-oped "Witli the serenest passage of pure breath, Red as a rose-bud pouting to a rose ; Eyelids that gave the slumber-misted blue ; One round arm doubled, Avhile the other lay, With dainty elbow dimpled like a cheek. Beside a fallen plaything. Slumbering there, The fondest dew of praises on him fell, And the low cry with which he woke was stilled By a proud mother's mouth. Jhen, while the boy Grew imitative as an echo, while His mother passed beyond her girhsh joys, And sorrows transient as a summer shower Chased by the laughing blue, and reached that peace Of pQrfect love, that weather of the heart, Wliich is the image of the windless days Wlicn July sleeps within the golden air, And the wheat ripens in its rank — and while King Edwin roamed the happiest Prince on ground — 110 EDWIN OF DEIRA, The black cloud floated over them and broke ; In spring-tiine when the trees were newly- dressed, ^\1ien from its sleep came forth the snake, and when The nestless cuckoo sought the sparrow's house, Warm-lmed in hawthorn hedge, and left her own Among the turquoise eggs. A robber clan Dwelt in the wastes upon his kingdom's edge, And harried many a homestead, many a farm ; So, when the cry for succour reached the throne, King Edwin rose, and with a cloud of horse Passed suddenly into a townless land, And fought the robbers there, and many slew, And pushed the rest, confused, into a marsh "WTiere rose the leader's tower. There closely cooped He stood at bay, like badger in liis hole, While men and dogs unearth him. At the last. The bandits, hunger-clung, burned up with thirst, Wild-eyed, and clad in rusty iron, came forth, And ofi'ered Edwin, for the gift of life. EDWIN OF DEIRA. Ill Horsos, and gold, and faithful following ^\'^le^e'e^ he blew his trumpet. But the King, With their death-warrant in his eye, broke out Upon the troubl«rs of the public weal. And called them " liars, malefactors, Icnaves, Ungracious creatures, countenanced like men, Yet hearted, stomached, fangcd, and clawed Like beasts ! Mere kites and crows that pick the sheep's eyes out ; Mere wolves that prowl about the wattled folds, With teeth that sharpen as the kidling bleats. Worthless ; who coidd destroy, but coidd not make. Spoilers, who could contribute, for the good Of toiling villages and towns of men, But the rank greenness of their graves ! " The crew Hearing themselves thus dedicate to death. For pai'don clamoured loudly — begged for life, Would water bear, hew wood, slave in the homes Of him and of his people — but the King Was to all mercy inaccessible As a sheer precipice to clutching hands. 112 EDWIN OF DEIRA. And hanged the rabble on the doddered oaks That stunted grew, long lichened in the marsli, And set the torch unto the leader's tower. And, while he sat upon his steed, and tvatched The smoke of ruin rise up flecked with flame, A man came with a letter from the Queen, Wliich he broke open with a hurried hand, And read within the saddle as he sat. And as one walking on a pleasant way, When tree and hedge are newly green with spring, Sweet thoughts in heart, and eyes upon the ground, Pores suddenly on sometliing at Ids foot, That is not of the world in which he dwells, And startles him into strangeness, so the King, Perusing with a smile the loving words. Stooped sudden down on this : — " The strangest thing Happed yesterday. For as I sat, a maid Came with the news that one within the hall, — A poor far-travelled man, whose face a sun EDWIN OF DEIRA. 113 Wanner than ours h;ul puinted, — o'er his food Was railing in set terms against the gods ; Whereat I went with Regner at my foot. But when T came, he pushed aside his dish, And raised his eyes, and blessed me and the clii] * baby brow, that yet wilt wear a crown ! baby hand, that wilt the sceptre hold ! Thou art beloved of oux Brother Christ ; He carries all earth's children in His heart — His heart more tender than a mother's is. A child stands ever at the foot of Chi'ist, And wanders from Him into manliood. Mayst Thou wander not ! And when the resting Christ Sits in His heaven when the world is done, "Wearing pure souls as jewels in His crown, Mayst thou shine fairly set ! ' With that he rose, Blessing me and the child again, and went. Leaving his strange words burning in my ear ; EDWIN OF DEIRA. 115 And tlirough the night I dreamed a gracious shape Walked in a garden full of flowers, and full Of children — children fair and apple-cheeked, Children on pallets stretched — and wlieu tlie shape Passed hy these last, they smiled the happiest smile, The wan cheek reddened, from the couch they rose, And ran among their fellows "neath the trees. ^^'^len at his foot a chain of children broke. There stood my Regner ; and methought, as one Doth pluck the fairest flower of all the flowers, In some sequestered hiding-place of spring. He took him to his heart : and then I woke." This letter did the grave King ponder o'er — Folding it up, then opening it to read, » As if in search of something he had missed. When evening fell, and the tliiu crescent moon Brightened through crimson vapours, and the tower ( Jlowed in the darkness like a hurned-out brand. The King disnioxinted, and Avitliin his tent •2 116 EDWIN OF DEIRA. Pored o'er tlie letter by the cresset light That, star-like, liung beneatli the silken roof. So, when the robber clan was trodden out, And all the strongholds razed — upon a day Of spring's divinest sunshine, when the breeze Had o'er the heaven spread the winnowed cloud As reapers shake the loose hay o'er the fields — The King rode homeward with a moody heart, And all his lords behind, a goodly train. And, when they reach the Palace, in a hush — For by the weatlier on the leader's brow The followers dressed their own — he leapt from steed, Flinging the careless reins upon the neck, And entered. In the high hall sat the Queen, Among her maids. They, singing, sat and span The carded wool. She silent bent above A struggling battle-piece of horse and man, And flying standard, terrible of look. The red drops trickled down the soldier's brow EDWIN OF DEIRA. 117 L'ulicliiietetl. The central charger, speared, KoUcd a wild eye, and snorted angry breath. Almost the trumpeter was heard to blow, Dead man to fall oii man with iron sound. A thing that billowing on a gusty wall In blinking faggot light, with strangest life Might shake a gazer. By her stood the child, (.4 rave for his years, with a most earnest eye, Watching the nimble fingers at their task Upon the pictured folds. In broke the King — In many a grisly crease the thing crept down, While Bertha rose and sought his open arms. And raised a face no higher than his breast, There to be kissed and kissed. And while he held Tlie upturned face within his mighty palms, Like one with a great cloud upon his mind That makes it dark, he broke out, " Dearest wife, I cannot rid me of the strange discourse Thou heldcst with the man that came and went. Can gods supplant gods as one race of kings 118 EDWIN OF DEIRA. Another 1 Is there nothing fixed ? "Will death Not only heir earth's sceptres, but the homes, The majesty, the wisdom, and the strength Of deities that thunder when they speak ? Are farewells said in heaven 1 and has each bright And young divinity a sunset hour 1 Methought, as I rode past, the temple shook, And deities a dying murmur made — Sighing farewell to empire, and to rule. Ay, the transparent curtain of the air. Hides toU and heart-break and unguessed-of change — My Regner." Here the child came to his foot, All rosy cheek, blue eye, and golden curl, And chased dark thoughts away ; and, wliile his brow Cleared, Edwin from the rushes caught the babe — Tossed him as liigh 's the roof *' ho ! thou iaip. Wearing a name the dearest to my soul, Mocking me with thy mother's smile and eye — When wilt thou head a gallant company "WTiere hound and horn make music in the dale 1 EDWIN OF DRIRA. 119 When wilt thou back a steed ? and couch a spear ? And hurl some great king down in tournament AVith all the plumage of his helmet shred ] When wilt thou m the bloody battle press O'er Avhich thy banner flies, wield axe like him, The long-haired fellow in the canvas there, As men were trunks of trees ? His sun will shine In its meridian, Avife, Avhen tliine and mine Are low beneath the hilLs. Thou morsel, tliou — ■ Thou bud, thou babbling sweetness full of life From foot to curl. Thou trout in sunny pool, Thou butterfly in air, thou blue-eyed thing ( 'rowing despair away, thou — " Here the boy Danced up and down upon his Cither's hands With baby laughter and delighted eyes, Was to his face dropped down, di'owned in his beard And there devom-ed in kisses, till a noise Arose oiitside, like mews, that o'er a fish Clamour and wheel ; and then the single voice Of one made clamant by a mighty \vrong. 120 EDWm OF DEIRA. Cried, "Justice, justice, justice for the weak !" Upon the floor the King set down the child And called out, " Let the poor man hither come ; He shall have justice." Then into the hall. Drawn by the voice, a man came roughly clad As a sea-rock with sea-weed. Wild his face, Like one who knew waste places and waste hours, And had scant share of human fellowship. And in the hall he stood before the King. Then Edwin said, " Stranger, whoe'er thou art, If in my realm an ill thing hath been done, A maid been wronged, a poor man robbed, a march Dishonestly been changed, it is my place To smite the -wickedness from ofl' the earth — Else wherefore is my crown ? And do not fear There is a dweller in this commonwealth Whose proud head wags o'er law. From lowest hut To the throne's footsteps, to the throne itself. Let wrong and Avronger perish. But this much — EDWIN OF DEIRA. ^21 1 am no idle creditor of tales Brought by the brushwood 'gainst the lordly oak ; And, if a lie within thy story lurks, It, like a wild beast, will I track and kill, And desolate the place in wliich it dwelt. Wherefore on justice dost thou cry aloud 1" Then like a Aveir imsluiced the man began. " I call for swift revenge upon my foe — A mighty lord who heeds me and my rage But txs the moated tower blown thistle-dowTi. Great King, I had a daughter ; only one — Dearer to me a thousand times than life : Sweet as the heather-bell that from afar Attracts the bee ; and by my side she grew Full fourteen summers, sweeter every year. One day, O King, the great lord came my way And spied the lonely blossom of my life. And coveted its beauty. It was all I had — he, gardens of his own to roam 1-2 EDWIN OF DEIRA, And pluck at will, where every rosebud cropped With pride would redden. Mine away he stole, And with it took the sun from out the sky, Tlie joy from out my life. I followed him. Fell on my knees before his castle gate, And prayed that he would give me back my flower, Pure as at first ; if not, then any way ; Soiled, sodden, withered, of its leaves despoiled. To me dear ne'er the less. He mocked my grief, Struck these old grey hairs down upon the stones." Then rushed to Edwin's temples the hot blood. " Old man, if this sad tale of thine be true. The evil lord shall surely die the death. Though he stand foremost in my roll of knights. Yea, were my mother's son. What is his name 1 However strongly girt by fosse and tower Thy voice is his death-warrant." Then the flame In the man's face sank low at once. He said, EDWIN OF DEIRA. 123 In broken meekness, " T^Iiglity King, I am Hut witliered gi-ass beneath the feet of all, iJespised and trodden, nor doth it befit Me to arraign great lords. And, when 'tis come To this, 1 tremble at the single word That once unloosed, will, like the lightning, rend And spread a desolation far and wide. In this pure presence also woidd I not Elazon the shame of one Avho beareth arms, And eats with thee at feast. And therefore King, I pray thee, let me iii thy private ear Whisper the name of him that did the thing." To him then answered Edwin : " Fear, methinks, Shoidd with the wronger dwell, not with the -wronged. Tliough all my knights were standing now in hall, The name should be clear spoken out at once. The scarlet face but to one man belongs, To him it sticks for ever, not to thee. Yet, if the name of that uncourteous lord, 124 EDWIN OF DEIRA. Whicli to dislionour's keeping shall be given, Among tlie sins and falsehoods of the world, Ne'er to be rendered back, thoii wilt not give Where best it should be ; standing on thy wrong In the clear public air — come with me hence." The King turned with an angry port ; the man Followed him meeldy, stepping like a cat, With silent footsteps. Hardly had they gone, Before there twirled the distaff of a maid, Before the patient needle of the Queen Renewed its work on arm and brandished spear, A sharp cry rose, a fall, and then a voice. Like vsome pure bevy of white-breasted doves By a hawk fluttered, skirred the maids, the Queen Flew to the sound ; they, gathered in a crowd. Flocked at her heel. Against the wall the King Leaned lilte one hurt, his hand upon his side, At his foot the cursed knife ; the while, the man Upon the floor lay grovellmg like a beast Whose backbone has been broken by a shot — EDWIN OF DEIRA. 125 His face distort with pain. When these he saw, 'I'lie King smiled in that bitter sort which hides A grievous wound, and mocks it. '' Wife," he said, "This strange wikl-cat has scratched me, that is alh And yet no thanks. For with that tumbled stool, I've crushed the creature to a broken heap Of agony, that ne'er will bite or claw. Wherefore against me didst tliou lift the knife ? " Whereat the writhing snake with dying lips, I )abbled with poisonous foam : " It Avas not I, 'Twas Ethelbcrt that struck thee from the grave. His spirit passed into me when he died. And for thy life I hungered as for food. My hate suborned the world against tliy life. All things were my confederates and spies ; The running stream that caught thy shadow, knew I sought thy life, and told it to the reed. The myriad grass-blades whispered of thy steps, As thou didst pass intent on peace or war. The Hower from out its covert leaned and watched ; 126 EDWIN OF DEIRA. The forest leaves took note of tliee, and made A murderous murmur to my greedy ears. Aided Ly grass and flower, I found thee ; struck — Struck home, as thou struck'st home. mighty King, A poor fool hath o'erreached thee. Thou didst boast The cunning'st lie thou couldst nose out, as hound The skulking fox. I led thee through a land, The foxes' trail was rank on bush and brake, Where was thy scent then 1 With a lie I fanned Thy virtuous rage for justice, made it flame Fiercely 'gainst nothing. Dying folly mocks A dying wisdom. Take my hand, great King, For we are fellow travellers on the -way To death's void darkness.'^ At this Ed^vin stamped, " Ho, Offa, Cedric ! I've blown the candle out, But yet the wick stinks foully." Then he reeled And caught at something in the deathly mist, But Bertha stayed him. By supporting arms, Slowly the wounded man was led to couch. And there for many a weary day and night. EDWIN OF DEIR-V. Low lay the princely pillai- of the state, And by his side, but by him all imlieard, His mother wept aloud like blustering March ; liertha, like breathless April, close and still. BOOK IV. Seven days and niglits the Queen sat by the couch With cooling cup and pillow-smootliing hand, And propped the wild and matted head that throbbed With fiery veins. In watches of the night She weeping heard, like some clock out of gear Striking strange hours, the cool and temperate lips Rave of a battle lost and hasty flight, And of a hate that chased him o'er the land, And of a stone without a traitor's gate, And of a spirit that did prophesy Of ruined thrones rebuilt and deaths of kings, And of a promised sometliing yet to come With universal change. The wasteful sea EDWIN OF DEIRA. 12!> Of ancient sorrow which was pushed far back r>y dyke and laboured mole, till but a sound Haunted with grief the shores of happiness, liroke down its barriers, drowning cot and town, Tillage and blossomed wood, until the caves "Which summer had o'erspread with leaf and bloom, And all the old sea margins heard again Tlie wild waves welter and the sea-birds cry. Seven days and nights the Queen sat by his couch The while her tears and kisses were unknown. The lords, who were to him right hand and left, On whom he built as on the solid ground, Were strangers ; and the people thronged the doors Devouring every morsel of the news Brought from the sick room where the King was laid. For they Avere helpless as a town whose walls Have fallen when the foe is iu the held. On the eighth night he fell in slumber deep, Anil Donegild and Eerlha o'er him hung, For he lay moveless as the sea at full K ISO EDWIN OF DEIRA. Ere the tide 'giiis to turn ; and, when he woke He knew the tear- wet faces and the lips And pressing hands ; and slowly glimmered back, Like something coming out of racking mist, The man who cried for justice, and the blow, And then the sharp pain of his unhealed wound. Each day thereafter Hke a fairy brought The King some gift of health, some red to cheek, Some lustre to the eye. Wlien passed a week, And, gathering strength he lay within the hall. The Queen upon a low stool at his feet Played with his wasted hand, far dearer now. In that it had been neighbour unto death. Than when 'twas hers upon her marriage morn, And in the childishness of her delight She covered it with kisses. Then the hand, Warm with the loving roses of her lips. Slipped from her grasp, and in love's silence stroked Briglit golden hair and happy cheek that leaned — And, as she spake she smiled at the caress. EDWIN OF DEIRA. 131 " nusl)aud, within the palace of thy heart I have free range of audience hall, and room Where people throng, or where thou sitt'st alone Holding a thoughtful session in thy soul, Whither each deed is summoned. Well I know Each door is wide. But tell me, is there not Some little private closet in the place For which I have no key 1 Is there not one 1 A little one 1 When that dark visitress. Delirium, through the silent chamber stalked The sad and sovereign mistress for the time. She left a door ajar, _ where horror lay And perturbation, and a fear thajb looks And listens for calamity that moves Somewhere within the future with no shape. What spirit was it that did speak with thee 1 And what will on a sudden step from air, To change the world '? " Tlicreat the sick King's hand Stayed on the hair and on the nestling cheek, And Bertha's heart beat thick before he spoke. K 2 132 EDWIN OF DEIRA. I would, my Bertha, thou hadst never known, Or that the knowledge and the thing had come Together. That were better far. For oft When on me blows the cold foreboding wind, The clearness of my spirit is made gross By its own sands. For long my mood of mind Is that of one on expectation's edge, Wlio, having heard a herald's trumpet blow. Doth wait for what 'tis blown for. Seated once, Years bygone now, without thy father's gate. At midnight a strange man stood at my feet And told me that in battle huge and wide King Ethelbert would fall with all his lords, That I should call thee wife, and that my throne Would be rebuilt, that I should teachers have Wlio knew the secrets in the hand of death. That once more he would come, — and then like mist He melted, and again T sat alone. King Ethelbert and all his nobles fell ; Thou art the truest wife that ever breathed EDWIX OP DEIRA. 133 Or shared the joys and sorrows of a man ; My throne is 'stablished, and a little hand Is growing for my sceptre when it falls, Be that day soon or late. But where are they, The teachers 1 And the apparitional man, When will he reappear ? I cannot doubt The end will prove as the beginning, true. No Summer ever yet did midway pause Anil ■without wheaten sheaf return to Spring. Wlio knows, it may be that this same Lord Christ Of whom thou heard'st, this Christ that seems to break O'er me like a strange dawn, within whose light The world takes other hues, may have to do Witli that for wlnc.-li T wait." And then the Queen, With a poor trembling cheer upon her lips Upbubbling through her blank astonishment, " Ah, husband, husband ! though our lives are wrapt Within a cloud of wonder, do not fear ; The voice hath only half fulfilled itself ; Good hath its half fulfilment been ; much good 134 EDWIN OF DEIRA. For us is on tlie way." And, as she leaned Her head against his side, she hardly felt Tlie gaunt hand wandering over hair and cheek. But ere King Edwin's bitter hurt was whole He hungered for the whirr of windy mills And din of carpenters among the ships. While chained with weakness to a painful couch It irked him to be like a mossing stone Within the hearing of the running stream. Cooped up, his thirst for noble action towered At times unto the captured lion's mood. When all his waste of burning sand and sky Shrinks to a twilight den, which his disdain Can measure at a stride. Once, as he lay" Stretched weak in hall, there came a hasty man, Astonishment depictured on his face, And told the King a ship lay on the sands. And from it issued strange and foreign men. ^ Unknowing what the strangers might portend. EDWIN OF DKIKA. 1C5 Straightway he rose from couch and sat on steed, Gaunt, fever-wasted, pale with conquered pain ; And, as he rode adown the narrow street, His lords heliind, he broke the silent air To murmured blessings, for at unwonted sound Of hoofs, each window was with faces crammed ; The black-browed armourer on the anvil left His hammer, and stood gazing from the door, The woman hold her child up as he passed. The beggar's hand forgot to stretch for alms. The girl laid dowTi her pitcher. With an eye That softened, slowly through the town he rode, And, slowly issuing from the gate, he spurred Along a rude sea bank of moimded sand 'Gainst which the universal glitter flowed, With a sharp face that reddened in the wind. But ere the foam was churning on the bit. He saw a crowd of people sea-ward look. As at some strange thing happening on the earth : And, riding down upon a yellow bay, 136 EDWIN OF DEIRA. From which the unseen moon liad drawn the tide, He drew the rein with Avonder. In the bright Fringe of the living sea that came and went Tapping its planks, a great ship sideways lay, And o'er the sands a grave procession paced Melodious with many a chaunting voice. Nor spear nor buckler had these foreign men ; Each wore a snowy robe that downward flowed ; Fair in their front a silver cross they bore ; A painted Saviour floated in the wind ; The chaunting voices, as they rose and fell, Hallowed the rude sea-air. On these the King Stared wonder-stricken — marble horse and man Not more bereft of motion. All the lords Sat silent and wide-eyed. The foremost man, AVlio seemed the leader of the white-robed train, Unbent, although his beard was white as snow, And the veins branched along his withered hands, Spake, while to Edwin he obeisance made. " To thee, who bear'st the likeness of a king, EDWIK OF DFIRA. 137 'Tis fit that I should speak, tliat thou may'st know Wliat is tlie business of thy servants here. We come to traffic not in horse or man, (J(ii-n, wine, or oil ; nor yet to gather gold, No to win cities hy the force of arms. < ) King ! we came across the dangerous seas To win thee and thy people from the gods Who cannot hear a cry or answer prayer, Unto the worship of the heavenly Christ, Of whom thou art the eldest son of all That in this nation dwell. We are unarmed ; 'Tis in thy power to strike us tlirough with spears, To stake us in the pathway of the tide, To burn us in the fire. Within thy hands Thou hast our lives. But yet we trust in Christ, From whose pure hand each king derives his crown, And in whose keeping are the heavenly worlds, No harm shall us befall. We bring thee Christ — The Christ before whose coming devils flee, Idolatrous fiix's burn low, and horrid di-ums, 138 EDWIN OF DEIRA. Beaten to drown the shrieks of sacrifice, Are covered o'er with silence." Then the King Stirred from his marble trance, and colour flashed Across his face, as something in his soul ^lurmured, like a reverberating cliff, The apparition's words without the gate Of Eedwald on the night he sat alone ; But straightway he possessed himself and spake : "Within my realm no harm shall thee befall ; And as thou hast into my kingdom come So far, and art desirous to make known Thy spirit's dear inheritance of truth, Or what thou deem'st its dear inheritance, Thou shalt have sustenance within my towns. And lodgement as is fit. ^aj, more than this — To-morrow, here, beneath the open sky, Wliere magical arts are powerless, will I bring In council all my lords, and ancient men EPWIN OF DFin.v. 139 Who have inherited Ansdom Anth their snoAvs, To giA'^c thee patient hearing. For myself, Although not minded to desert the gods My fathers followed, and beneath whose sway The happy seasons still have come and gone, I keep an open door for thoughts and men That wear strange clothes and speak Avith foreign tongues ; Such hospitality befits a King." Thereat the King and all the knights retm-ned : Them the procession folloAved, with the folk Dispread on either side in cloudy Avings ; And Avhen the priests, the cross before them borne, Belield the city in the yelloAV light. And all the King's train riding to the gate, Sudden a choir of silver voices rose : — " Lord Christ, we do beseech Thee in Thy grace, Let not Thine anger 'gainst this city burn, Xor 'gainst Thy holy house, for we have sinned ! " And so they sang until the gate was reached. 140 EDWIN OF DEIRA. There, like a stream, that fretting on a stone Is on itself pushed back, the tumult grew ; At last, from out the struggle and the press, Adown the street the white procession flowed, And, like a rookery that starts on wing, And hangs a noisy blackness in the air, The town was uproar, till a courteous knight Sent by the King, into a dwelling wide. Right opposite the palace, brought the priests. And closed great doors upon a crowd close pressed And jammed like wethers in a fold. And then As the tumultuous rookery that -wheels Above its ancient trees, subsides at last, Each bird beside its nest upon the bough, And caws itself to silence, all the mass Dense wedged, split like an ice-floe in a thaw, Then gathered into clumps of twos and threes, And, ere the evening, from the street withdrew To babble of the wonder by the Hie. EDWIN OF DEIRA. 141 And, when the town had brawled itself to rest, Edwin went privately unto the priests To further learn of Christ, and stayed a space. Then he came back and sat beside the Queen, And talked of all the wonders of the day ; But, with a mind confused, and blurred by doubt, And indistinct, as in dim-weeping dawns "When wreaths of mist are stretched from tree to tree, The landscape wliich a man knows as himself ! And, ^\•hen she like a star had set, he turned The matter o'er and o'er within his mind, And broke out with a touch of fretfulness, For his deep wound twinged sharply. " If 'twere but The building of a city, or a ship, Defence of tlireatened frontier, anything That may be compassed by apparent means, And, being compassed, brings apparent good ! This Christ has ne'er been seen by living eye. His voice has ne'er been heard by li\ing ear, And if beneath his banner I enlist, 142 EDWIN OF DEIKA. Serviee life long, obedience absolute. Strict abstinence from all ambitious thoughts, Stem curbing of the war-horse in the heart. Are needed ; and long years of purity. That shame the honour of a knight, that shame The nobleness of kings. War is forbid ; I must forgive the man that injures me. What if, when 1 am on a death-bed laid, Hoary with painful years, no Christ should be ? I have my spirit tortured for a dream ; The man who wrongs me insolently laughs ; And unenlarged my kingdom for my son ; And unembalmed by victories, my name Will perish like a nothing from the earth, Unrescued by a harpstring. Could I j^lace This Christ within the temple of the gods 1 One must be right ! But then this man brings Christ To save me from the worship of the gods, To smite in dust their shrines. Divinities Are jealous of divinities. They may EDWIN OF DEIRA. 143 Forgive the worshipper ; they ne'er forgive The proud thing praised and worshipped. It is kill, Kill, kill, and overturn ! " So thus and thus From divers points the King's mind blew until The lamp was fading, and forgetful sleep Hung on the weary eyelid. Then he rose, Stepped to his boy and kissed him, as he lay, liound, rosy cheeked, beneath a cloud of curls ; And sought his couch until the early dawn. But till the dawn he slumbered not, for — like A rude petitioner that presses suit In the market-place, and, urgent, dogs the heel Of him, whose word is grace, to audience hall And thence to private chamber — yet unlaid By an irrevocable yea or nay, The thing pursued him to liis couch, unchanged. Confronted him hi dream. So, when the town Was growing white with dawn, the King, to 'scape The tyranny of thought that made him toss 144 EDWIN OF DEIRA. From deep to deeper fever, and suborned Against his peace the motions of the blood That beat and surged against his ear, arose And clothed himself and hasted out to loathe In cool grey light soft flowing from the east, Scented with dewy woods, and in its heart The chirrupings of newly wakened birds. Dawn struck on fevered forehead, and on eyes Reddened with watching, as he paused to look Upon the glimmering city, stretching out In slumber's silent trustfulness ; no sound — The white light pouring down on wall and roof. The secure raven flying low — that lit. And from the temple croaked. " Ah little town, Round which I am a wall, which I have fed As tenderly as e'er a parent bird Its nest of callow young, which I have kept As shepherd keeps his sheep — the thing I do, Tlic way I turn in this grave matter scoops A channel for thy flow to good or ill. EDWIN OF DEIRA. 1 <•'> Tliis tiling, though clamant, is ungraspable, Bodiless, airy, and transacts itself In si)iritual regions all unbreathed, And strange, as is a new-created world Unprinted by a foot. I am a staff Placed upright on the ground, and have no power To iUU tliis way or that, but fall 1 must. And by the way I fall shall Deira grow. Unmse, irresolute, it is my doom To lift on high my voice, and at my voice A future with an unimagined face Will break on thee and me." Thereat the King, (As on the night he sat without the gate) With unknown terror shook from head to heel. And lo, there stood within a lane of dawn A folded shape that, slow advancing, laid A hand upon his head, and at the sign So well remembered, waited for through years With a desire that called it, and again ^\'it]^ blood chill-streaming and a cowering heart, L 146 EDWIN OF DEIRA. Edwin fell on his knees, and then the Shape — " Kneel not to me, but to the heavenly Christ ! Have not the tilings I promised come to pass 1 Have I not sent Paulinus as I said? To his instructions give attentive ear, And bring thy people also unto him, That Christ may be the Lord of all. And know This fertile island in the narrow seas Parcelled in seven states that fret and fume Fiercely against each other, shall grow one, And a far distant son of thme shall sit Within its capital city high enthroned, The crown upon his head. The crown from Christ He will receive on coronation day. The kingdoms and the nations of the earth Are tools with which Christ works ; and many He Hath broken, for the metal faithless proved; And many He hath thrown aside to rust In a neglected corner; many worn "With noble service into nothingness: EDWIN OP DEIRA, H7 Tliis England, when 'tis tempered to His need, Will be His instrument to shape the world For many a thousand years. mighty Prince, ^Vithin the East is born a day of days, For Christ this day will to thy kingdom come And seek therein to dwell. Be faithful thou, That faithfulness may live from king to king." At this a ray smote Edwin on the face, Each dew-drop twinkled gem-like on the thoni. And with wet wing from out the fields behind A lark rose singing, and when Edwin looked He was alone with sunrise on the hills. The town that morning was all ear and eye, There was no sound of shipwi-ights on the beach, The wind twirled empty mills, the armourer's fire No bellows blcAv to crimson. Like a stream On which frost lays his Iiand, all work stood still. Tlic child looked up into its father's face; And, seeing what it could not understand, 148 EDWIN OF DEIRA. Sat still and played not. As the morn drew on, A voice, the clatter of a passing hoof, Crammed every door with faces. Then the folk Gathered in groups to stare upon the house In which the priests were lodged, and strove to shape, In ignorant wonder what event was ripe ; And now the stirring palace took the pulse, And raised the flying rimiour wliich o'er-swept The crowd, as wind a wheat field. Now one rode As if in haste adown the narrow street, One oped a palace window and looked forth. One tightened girth of steed. Conjecture made These nothings monstrous as the shade that stalks Along the shining vapour 'mong the hills When the red sun is at the herdsman's back. Then, while the crowd was growing more and more. The knight went from the palace for the priests : . And then King Edwin and his nobles rode Adown the street and issued from the gate. And half the people thither ran ; and now EDWIN OF OEIRA. ^^^ From out the dwelling streamed the holy priests, "With silver cross and Saviour raised in air, Each clad m snowy vestments, and they sang. Tlie clear sweet voices and the gleam of white Drew mothers forth that held their babes to breast, And tottering children, and iniirmest men That by the fire had sat for many a year Discoursing querulously of stitch and ache. Till, like a hay-field reft of all its cocks. Or like a beach at ebb -with yawning caves Silent antl tenantloss, the town was left. Awhile the crowd surged at the narrow gate, And then it poured upon the ample down P>eyond, where by commandment of the King They all were seated crescent-wise on grass. He and his lords and gray-haired counsellors. Dismounted stood within the tapering rings. With them the white-robed priests. In front the sea Stretched leagues of frosted silver ; on one side The temple stood, dark with a passing cloud. 150 EDWIN OF DEIRA. Aiid then the King spake out right clear and loud, Heard by the multitudes on either side. "Demons and gods have power beneath our roofs, But not beneath the azure. Pure soft light Disarms them, makes them innocent ; and so I've brought my people here to list thy words. Friends, a strange bird has flown from o'er the sea Into this air of England. Here it sits, And here it meditates to build a nest. 'Tis in our power to scare the bird away, 'Tis in our choice to let it build and breed. What say ye? Shall it go or shall it stay?" There Avas a silence for some minutes' space: At last from out the circle of the priests Stood Coifi, giant-moulded, bred of priests. And highest 'neath the gods : and though debarred The use of spear or steed, his soul was aye A broad-disked flower at gaze on battle's sun. He never knew contentment, and his mood EDWIN OF DEIRA. 151 ^Vrts stormful, passionate, as the mountain land Wheiv. 'gainst tlie rocky barrier streams the blast, Wlicri- the red torrent flays the gorge's throat, The passing sunbeam smites the rainy ledge Making it wildly shine, — and thus he spake Fiercelj', l»ut with the fierceness curbed and reined. " ( ) King, consider weU Avhat shall be said, For truly the religion we uphold Seems to me, barren, virtueless, and dead. \Vhat benefit is there in churlish gods That take our rolling incense and our prayers And give us nothing in return? The dogs That follow at our heels we now and then Kequite with a caress, and throw them bits From out the very dish on which we sup. No one of all thy people more than I Hath worn his knees, but brighter many know Thy countenance than I ; more prosperous Tn all their undertakings are than T. Xow if the gods are good for any thing 152 EDWIN OP DEIRA. They would advance their faithful worshipper. The man that season after season tills A field that yields no crop, grows tired at last, Curses its barrenness and lets it stand, And takes to others ; of his mind am I. Giftless the rich churl's as the beggar's hand : Whether the gods are churls or beggars, this I know that they have given nought to me, Nor do I think their hands will e'er relax ; And so, if these new doctrines promise more. We should accept them, King, without delay." Thus Coifi, visaged like the thunder-cloud That steeps the crag in luiid purple. Then Rose Ella hoary with a hundred years, Who dreamed his life away, afar from men As glimmering wraiths of twilight in old woods That into nothing flit from oak to oak Whene'er comes human footstep ; and his smile Put all in memory of those days in Spring EDWIN OF DEIRA. With sunsliine covered, but whose sunniness Foretells an earlier coming on of tears Than even gloom itself. " To me," he said, " To me, King, this present life of man Seems in couiparison of unknown time Like a swift sparrow flying through a room, Wherein thou sitt'st at supper with thy lords, -V good tire in the midst, while out of doors In gusty darkness whMs the furious snow That wall and window blocks. The spari'ow flies In at one dour, and by another out, Brief space of warm and comfortable air It knows in passing, then it vanishes Into the gusty dark from whence it came. The s(nd like that same spari'ow comes and goes ; This life is but a moment's sparrow-flight Between the two unknowns of birth and death : An arrow's passage from an luiknown bow Toward an unknown bourne. King, I have 'Jliis matter meditated all my days. 153 154 EDWIN OF DEIEA. And questioned deatli, but with no more effect Than if I shouted 'gainst a stormy wind And had my words dashed back in my own face. If therefore these new doctrines bring nie hght, All things I would renounce to follow them." He ceased : then at a signal from the King, The gray Paulinus in his robe of white In front of all his white-robed followers Upraised a hushing hand, and all was still. "Fair island people, blue-eyed, golden-haired, That dwell within a green delicious land With noble cities as with jewels set — A land all shadowed by full-acorned woods, Eefreshed and beautified by stately streams — We heard this island with its climate pure Was given o'er to heathen deities : That these were worshipped with the bended knee, Unholy fire, and smoke of sacrifice. And we are come to smite the deities. EDWIN OF DEIRA. ^' And to the idolatrous temples set the torch. For this we took our lives within our hands, For this we drew a fiurow through the sea, And this "we Avill accomplish ere we die. And furthermore we come to speak of Christ, ^Vho from his heaven looked down, and saw a world Crimson with stains of wicked battle-fields, And loud Avith the oppressions of the poor. And, moved -with gracious pity, wrapt the sun Oi his Di\anity in a mortal cloud Till it was tempered to our human sight. And, for the love he bore the race of men, Full thu'ty years ungrudgingly he breathed (.Jur human breath, endured our human needs, 1 lungered and thirsted, oft without a home. Though but a man he seemed, such virtue dwelt Within the compass of his niortid frame. That poor and forlorn creatures near their death Touched by his garments were made instant whole. And all the time he lived upon the earth 156 EDWIN OF DEIRA. He cast out de\dls, gave the l)lind their sight ; With slender store of loaves and fishes fed A hungry multitude close-ranged on grass ; And, walking on the waters, with a word Made all the roaring lake of Galilee Sink to a glassy mirror for the stars. Yea at his word a three days' buried man Cauie forth to light with grave-clothes on his face. And, when the times of wickedness were full, When by the vilest city in the world Nailed to a cross upreared against the sky He hung with malefactors — dismal sight The sun dared not to look on — with a prayer For him who pierced his body with the spear, For him who tore his temples Avith the thorns, For him who mocked his thirst with vinegar, The Lord Christ bleeding bowed his head and died ; And by that dying did he wash earth white From murders, battles, lies, ill deeds, and took Remorse away that feeds upon the heart EDWIN OF DEIRA. 157 Like slow fire on a brand. From gi-ave he hurst; Death could not hold liini, and ere many days Before the eyes of those that did him love He passed up through yon ocean of blue air Unto the heaven of heavens, whence he came. And there he sits this moment man and God ; Strong as a God, llesh-hearted as a man, And all the uncreated light confronts With eye-lids that have known the touch of tears. Marvel not, King, that we have come to thee. If but one man stood on the farthest shore, Thither I would adventure with the news — News that undungeons all from sin and fear. The glimmering wisp, the sprite that haunts the ford, The silent ghost that issues from the grave Like a pale smoke that takes the dead man's form Can scare us never more, for Christ made all, And lays His ear so close unto the world That in lone desert, peril, or thick night, A whispered prayer can reach it. In the still 158 EDWIN OF DEIRA. Abyss of midnight lives a Imman heart, And therefore all the loneliness and space And all the icy splendours cannot freeze. Coifi, I bring to thee no churlish God : A heaven-full of reward he has for those That love and serve. And thou, most ancient man, For ever musing on a grassy grave, Death is a dinted couch ; for there a space Christ's limbs have rested, and that knowledge takes The loneliness, Avhich is death's fear away. And in the light beyond earth's shade He sits "With all the happy spirits of the dead Silent as garden flowers that feed on aii-. And thither thou wilt join Him in due time. King ! City ! seated on the grass We have unpacked our bales. Christ cannot come Where any idol is ; so burn them down. King, be the wind to blow these clouds away, That Christ's clear sky may over-arch thy land." EDWIN OF DEIRA. 159 Tie ceased ; l)ut on the hem of his address Ere yet a man could say that he had ceased, Cried Coifi, while his face in splendour broke, And shone among the others dark with doubt : As, when a day of rolling vapour dims A waste of congregated pool and mere. One, smit by sunsliine from a cloudy rift. Glitters among the gloomy brotherhood. And wears the gleam while all the rest are dark : " King, give ear unto the stranger's words, Surely the truest, best that ever ear Gave welcome habitation to. For long To me the worship of the native gods Was emptiness and vapour : and if truth In that religion dwelt, 'twas spectre-like And fleeting as the rainbow in the shower. That ever shifts its place and flying smiles. In this new doctrine, if I judge aright. Truth lives not like an unbroke skittish colt That never yet has known the touch of man ; 160 EDWIN OF DEIRA. That starts, and whinnying flies, if but a head O'ertops its pales, or any noise is made — But in contentment like the paddocked steed That has a life of noble service led And fears not the approach of any man, May saddled be and used. The deities Are but the mighty shadows of ourselves, And reach no higher than our highest moods. But this Christ has existence all untouched » By fond imagination or belief : And, being Lord, the richly furnished world Is an unemptied treasury of gifts For those He loves ; and, on rebellious men, He has for executioners the sea, Snow-drift, and sun-fire, blast, and thunderstone. Earthquake and shivering lightnings red with haste : All good is resident within His smile, All terror in His frown. And, therefore King, It seems to me expedient that the gods. Voiceless and empty-handed as our dreams, EDWIN OF DEIRA. 181 Should be at once forsaken, and tlie torch Be set unto the temples we have built." And, when the full heaped wave of Coiti's words Broke sudden in a wreatli of dying foam, The King arose, and with liini rose a sound. " Ye strangers who have come across the sea, Ye people who have known me all my days, I here, in seeing of the earth and sky. Unclothe myself of the religion dark Which I and all my forefathers have worn, And put on Christ like raiment white and clean. To this I am not urged by wantonness, Nor by a weak and giddy love of change. This thing I have considered o'er and o'er, And, when my spirit wavered, it was fixed And clamped unalterably as with iron By spiritual visitors and signs ; And that these spiritual signs and shapes Were offspring of no over-heatod braiu, M 162 EDWIN OP DEIRA. This kingdom I am king of is the proof. Ye priests, I take allegiance unto Christ ; ]\Iy crown I wear as vassal unto Him : This day I Christ as my commander take, And as His faithful soldier will I live, And as His faithful soldier will I die. And, as the dawn from out the heaven comes, And on the craggy mountain's highest peak Kindles a lire, then, falling lower, breaks In splendour on the fortress on the crag, Then rosy makes the solitary mere Deep in the wrinkled armpit of the hill. Then strikes a rainbow on the cataract, Then with a sunbeam wakes the misty vale, Till in the light the little children laugli And over all the world is morning — so From me, who am the highest in the state. This new religion will step down to priest, From priest to noble, and from thence through all The ranged degrees that make a commonwealth EDWIN OF DEIRA. lt»3 Until it reach the labourer soiled witli clay, And Christ will o'er us rule in perfect peace. But, being now His soldier, it is meet That I make war upon His enemies ; Wlio of my priests and nobles standing round Will first profane the temples of the gods And all the dark enclosures sacred held ? " Then Coifi without pausing answered, " I, For surely of thy people it befits 'No one so well as him who was their priest. If I the dwellings of the gods outrage. With a forbidden horse, unla"\vful spear, And smite them and return again unhurt. What then ? Yon ancient boulder on the liill, That wears obscure the features of a man, Is strong, divine, and worshipful as they. But, if the blow and clangour of my lance Should pierce the stony calm, and draw a voice And lightnings that will blast me, 1 I ml die, And by my death I bring the gods alive, M 2 164 EDWIN OF DEIRA. Aud in the fairer summers that will come My name mil be remembered oft with praise. The profanation of the gods is mine ; Provide me, King, a stallion, and a spear." Thereat arose confusion manifold, And one perched on an eminence might see That through the crowds that stood stock-still there ran Meandering cui-rents, like the ruffled belts That bend and waver through the oily calm When noonday lies in slumber on the deep. Soon from the tumult ruiming footmen broke Leading the coal black stallion of the King That plunged aud neighed, his knee and counter dashed With foamy flakes, and on him Colli sprang Priest-vested as he was, and curbed and reined The mighty brute as though his heels were armed, And loud cuirass and greave his daily wear. While with his hooves the stallion bruised the tm-f, Coifi leaned sideways, stretched a hand and caught A glittering spear, and, poising it, gave rein EDWIX OP DEIRA. '^^■ And rodo. toward the temple, and tlie crowd, Deeming the priest stark mad or brain-distract, In that he was so covetous of death. Broke after him in wild and shrieking lines ; But Coifi struck them marble as he crashed Through the enclosures ever sacred held. And gained the central space unharmed, and rode Thrice round and round, then in his stirrup stood, And, with a high defiance on his lip, Smote, with a clang, an Idol, monster-faced ; And, as he smote, the foul thing reeling, fell. Fell Dagon-like, face downwards on the grass. And, when from every heart the icy hand ' Of fear was lifted, sea-like grew the noise. And Coifi shouted something from the place, And, as in answer to the half-heard shout. King Edwin's voice the mighty uproar clove, " Consume with fire the idols and their homes : Bum stake and god together ! " And the cries Within the crowds a sacred fury wrought, 1()6 EDWIN OF DEIRA. The deities were tumbled on the grass, The pales and the enclosures were torn doAvn By naked hands, and flung into a heap, And one a torch applied ; and through the smoke Tliere flickered here and there the fiery tongues That crackled, spread, and ever higher climbed ; Till the scorched beam came thundering down, and towers Of flame rushed up, then licked the air and died. And when the world was quivering through a film Of furnace heat that shook in welling lines. And a great smoke rolled ofi" and sea-ward spread. And dimmed the gleam from headland on to cape, And ever louder grew the swarming crowds, The white-robed priests togethfT standing sang, " DoAvn falls the wicked idol on his face, So let all wicked gods and idols fall ! Come forth, O Light, from out the breaking East, And with thy splendour pierce the heathen dark, And morning make on continent and isle EDWIN OF DEIRA. 167 That Thou may'st reap the han'est of Thy tears, O Holy One that hung upon the tree." So, when the temple lay a ruined mass, And the gorged flames were low upon the brand, And a great vapour breathed across the sea, King Edwin called his people ; and they came Long line on line as tide sets to the shore. And then he pointed to the smoky blot Athwart the sea-light and the peaceful sky. " Behold our old religion hanging there, Behold it dyiug in the heavenly ray ; So dies the error of a thousand years ! Thee would we thank, Paulinus, but the top And pinnacle of our indebtedness, No language e'er can scale. Yet would we know Whose hand it was that reached us o'er the sea." Thcu to the King, Paulinus answered straight, •' I gladly shall instruct thee, mighty King. The holy Pontiff Gregory sent us here ; 168 EDWIN OF DBIRA. The saintliest spirit after Christ, whose soul In clearest light and meditation dwells, And is of his corporeal body free As is the lark in heaven of its nest ; One day it happed that to the market-place In Eome, Pope Gregory went, and, through the crowds Of buyers and of sellers walking, saw A crowd of lovely boys exposed for sale ; Fair faced were they, white-skinned, and azure-eyed, And to their shoulders hung the yellow hair. Moved by their beauty, Gregory enquu-ed Who were they? from what country they were brought ? And some one said they came from Britain. Then He marvelled if the isle that bred such youth Was Christian, or lay yet in pagan dusk ; And those around him told that never yet That island's tongue had shaped the name of Christ. Then sighed he from the bottom of his heart ; ' Alas ! ' he said, ' that Darkness and its King Should such fair creatures in possession hold ! EDWIN OF DETRA. ^^^ Ala.% that creatures as the morning fair Should live with darken'd spirits ! ' Then he turned, And went home musing o'er this island's good ; And the desire grew powerful that the tongue Of Eritain, which could modulate alone Dark idol-prayer and hoarse battle-cry, Should utter Hallelujah. So when time Was ripe, at his behest we sailed from Gaul, Freighted with prayer and the name of Christ ; And landed here. The holy Pontiff's heart, That aches with the great darkness of the world. Is this day lightened, for among the tongues That rise to heaven in prayer, there is one Ne'er heard by Christ before ; another string Is to the world-harp added, praising Christ. For what has been accomplished on this day, Fragrant will Gregory's memory be held By every race of Englishmen to be. From out the twilight of unnoted time The historj' of this land hath downward come 170 EDWIN OF DEIRA. Like an uncitied stream that draws its course Tlu'ougli empty Mililernesses, and but hears The wind sigh in the reed, the passing crane ; But Christ this day hath been upon it launched, like to a golden barge with burnished oars, Whose progress makes the lonely waters blush. And floods the marshes with melodious noise. And, as that river widens to the sea, The barge I speak of will dilate and tower, And put forth bank on bank of burnished oars, And on the waters like a sunset burn, And roll a lordlier music far and wide, And ever on the dais a King shall sit, And ever round the King shall nobles stand." Thereafter in a stream that ran to sea The King and all his nobles and his priests, AVere by Paulinus in Christ's name baptised And solemnly unto His service sealed. And then Paulinus lifted up his hands, EDWIN OV DEIRA. 171 And blessed them and the people. But by this Tlie congregated clouds along a sea From every fret and wrinlcle smoothed began To wear their evening colours, and the Kong Turned homeward, priest and noble in his train, With all the people folloAving full of awe. And from that day, filled with strange fire, he rode A mighty Idol-breaker, far and wide In battle-gear, Christ following in the print Of his war-horse's hooves. The fanes he burned At Goodmanham, at Yeverin, and York, And Cateret where the Swale runs shallowing by. To Redwald and his sons he bore the faith, And sent Paidinus to the neighbouring Kings. Near his own city, where the temple stood, He raised to Clu-ist a simple church of stone, And ruled his people faithfully, until Long-haired and hoary, as a crag that looks Seaward, with matted lichens bleached by time, He sat in Hall beholding, with dim eyes ^'2 EDWIN OF DEIRA. And memoiy full of graves, the world's third bloom; (xrand-children of the men he knew in youth ; And dying, pillow-propped within his chair, The watchers saw a gleam upon his face As from an opened heaven. And so they laid Within the church of stone, with many a tear, The body of the earliest Christian King That England knew; there 'neath the floor he sleeps, With lord and priest around, till through the air The angel of the resurrection flies. TORQUIL AND OONA. TuE bright brief siuiinier of the western isles Burst on grey rocks, yet wet with winter's wrath, When Torquil, the brown fisher of the Kyles, Courted the blue-eyed Oona of the Strath, And won her love : and, when the beauteous world Was sweetening onward to the wedding-day, Great clouds of sea-birds dipped, and wheeled, and skirled. O'er finny droves in every creek and bay. And every fisher started to liis feet ; All day they laboured with a hearty will. And wives and children watched the ta\niy fleet Stand out to sea beyond the crimson hill. ^''4 TORQUIL AND OOXA. Save Torqiiil's only, with the morning light The boats came laden homewards. One by one Dragged the long hours, and Oona strained her sight To pluck a sail from out the sinking sun. The conflagration of the dawn arose Upon a woman wringing piteous hands, With long hair streammg in a wind that blows White wraiths of foam that beckon o'er the sands; And, ever as she went from place to place • Along the shore, or up the purple fells. She saw the glimmer of a drowned face, And brown hair trailing in a wave that swells. And aye she sang of boats upset in squalls, Of sailors that will never buried be — Tossed on the grey wave as it leaps and falls, And torn by the wild fishes of the sea : — TORQUIL AND OONA. '^'^^ " 'J'hy mother fondly hung above thy bed, And clothed thy slioulders with lier careful hand; But now the billow heaves thy naked head, And haps thee with the blanket of the sand. " The shirt I made for thee is wet, my dear; Blue is the mouth I kissed, and blue the nails ; Yet, sleeping by thy side, I would not fear The coiling sea-snakes, and the shadowing whales." And, knowing she was dying, oft she prayed — The sole request for which her heart had room — That God would pity her, and have her laid Beside her Tortpil in his moving tomb. A little wliile and she was laid at rest, With white hands crossed upon the snowy lawn ; A cruse of salt upon her frozen breast, And candles burning round her till the daAvn. 176 TORQUIL AND OOXA. Her fathers slept within a desert isle, The dreariest mustering place of sullen ^vaves, In midst whereof a grey religious pile Looks through the misty wind that slirills and raves. A broken wall surrounds the field of dead; The gate stands open for no man to pass ; And carven crosses with their runes um-ead Lie sunken in a sea of withered grass. And thither Avill they bear her ; for the Celt, Although liis track comes reddening down vnih feud From out the sunrise, evermore has felt, Like a religion, ties and dues of blood. The simple people stood around the doors, ' ''' And, in the splendour of the morn, a line Of drying nets flapped round the idle shores; Brown dulse-beds glistened in the heaving brine. TORQUir, AND OONA. 177 Tlie kinsmen bore tlie body to the strand ; Witliin the bout fall tundurly 'twas laid, And, lying there, some reverential hand Around tlie cotfiii wrapt her lover's plaid. And onward sailed the bark, the while the crowd, lianged on the shore, a decent silence kept ; And, while it hung a speck 'twixt wave and cloud, A mother, lingering, sea-ward looked and wept. And, when the day along the splintered line Of purple Coolin sank divinely ftiii'. And homeward lowed the mighty-uddered kine, ^Vnd the long rookery creaked through coloured air. The men returned. As at a Avitch's call A tempest rose, they told, and, as it came IJlackening, it broke, and through the solid squall Fluttered the linked and many-sheeted flame ; 178 TORQUIL AND OONA. And some one cried, "'Tis Torquil claims the dead ;" And how, when in the wave the corse they threw, The darkness cracked in sunshine over head. And ocean glittered 'neath the sudden blue. And one stood listening to the simple folic — Old Eonald, by a century of woe Made hoary as a lichen-bearded rock. Bent like a branch beneath a load of snow. He once beheld along the making tide Pale death-fires burning for a boat, which then Waited, safe-moored, for bridegroom and for bride, Grave priest, and troops of dancing maids and men. Oft sitting by the fire on winter nights, When round the huts the wind a descant sung Of wrecks and drowning men, disastrous sights And ancient battles lived upon his tongue. TOliQUIL AND OOXA. ^ "^ So, when the boatmen ceased, and watery slips, Eed-glai»ed with sunset, faded in the sands, (iiey Konald stood apart with murmuring lips ; Then, smit with passion, raised his voice and hands : — " Within the awful midnight of the sea, Wliere nothing moves, these twain have found a grave : Was it for this on windless nights to me The fatal glow -W( inns glimmcrc>d ou the wave 1 " Though not for us that tender cure of grief When the red naked grave that jars and stings Falls from its shape, and, greening leaf by leaf, IMelts in the mass of long-familiar things, " Until, upon a sunny Sabbath day, Within the grassy churchyard friends vdW stand. With no sliarp pang that the low-mounded • lay Once lauyhed aloud and stretched the friendly hand — 180 TORQUIL AND OOXA. "Though from our liearts Time never thus ^vill lure Eemembrance, yet we know tlie twain that fli'd, Happier than we, inherit the secure And measureless contentment of the dead ; " That they, knit u}) by death from strokes of ill, Are with us, fairer, nobler than before — Sweet Oona in the sunrise on the hill, Brown Torquil in the nnirmur (jf the shore. " When the innumerous snow-flake blinds the vale, And ^vreaths arc si)inning o'er tlie hiiddled sheep, Wlien the long reef of breakers in the gale Hoars for men's lives, they dwell in happy sleep. " Think of thom when tlie summer sunset flares Down through the world of waters in the west, And -when from shore to shore the ocean wears A mesh of glittering moonlight on its breast." BLAAVIX. O WONDERFUL mountain of ]]laavin, How oft since oxir parting hour You have roared with the wintvv torrents. You have gloomed tlirough the thundir-shuwer ! But by this time the licliens are creeping Grey-gTeen o'er your rocks and your stones, And each hot afternocm is steeping Your l)ulk in its sultriest bronze. O sweet is the spring wind, IHaavin, When it loosens your torrents' li( <\v, "When with one little touch of a sunny haml It unclasps your cloak of snow. sweet is the spring wind, Blaavin, 1^2 BLAAVIN. And sweet it was to me — Tor before the bell of the sno^vdrop Or the pink of the apple tree — Long before your first spring torrent Came down witli a flash and a Avhirl, In the ]>reast of its happy mother There nestled my little girl. D BlaaA'in, rocky Blaavin, It was Avith the strangest start That I folt, at the little querulous cry, The new pulse aAvake in my heart ; A pulse that will live and beat, Blaavin, Till, standing around my bed, While the chirrup of birds is heard out in the dawn, The watchers whisper, He's dead ! another heart is mine, Blaavin, Sin' this time seven year, For Life is brighter by a charm, r>eath darker by a fear, Blaa\in, rocky ]>laavin, BLAAVIN. 183 H(i\v I long to be with you again, To see lashed gulf and gully Smoke white in the windy rain — To see in the scarlet sunrise The mist-wreaths perish with heat, The wet rock slide with a trickling gleam Right down to the cataracts' feet ; While toward the crimson islands, Where the sea-birds flutter and skirl, A cormorant flaps o'er a sleek ocean floor Of tremulous mother-of-jiearl. II. Ah me ! as wearily I tread The winding hill-road mute and slow, Each rock and rill are to my heart So conscious of the long-ago. My passion with its fulness ached, I filled this region with my love, 1S4 BLAAVIN. Ye listened to me, barrier crags, Thiju lieard'st me singing, blue a1)ove. never can I know again The sweetness of that happy dream. But thou remember' st iron crag, And thou remember' st falling stream ! look not so on me, ye rocks. The past is past, and let it be ; Tliy music ever falling stream Brings more of j^ain than joy to me. O cloud, high dozing on the peak, O tarn, that gleams so far below, distant ocean, blue and sleek. On which the \vhite sails come and go, Ye look the same ; thou sound' st the same, Thou ever falling, falling stream — Ye are the changeless dial-face, And I the passing beam. BLAAVIX. TIL As adown the long glen T hurried, With the torrent from fall to fall, The invisible spirit of Blaavin Seemed over on me to call. As I passed the red lake fringed with rushes A duck burst away from its breast, And before the bright circles and wrinkles Had subsided again into rest, At a clear open turn of the roadway My passion went up in a cry, For the wonderful mountain of Blaavin Was heaving his huge l)ulk on high, Each prcciiiici; keen and iiurple Against lh(^ yi-lli'W sky. THE END. I.O.N JJON : n. Ol.AV SOX, iso TAYLOR, miSTEttS, BllEAU nUEKT HII [ . By (lie same Author. CITY POEMS. Feap. 8vo. cloth, 5s. A LIFE UKAJkLV, AKD OTIIEK POEMS. Fuiip. Svo. uloth. 'Is. ^il. IjooIiS of Boetrn. BLANCHE LISLE, AND OTHER POEMS. By Cecil Homk 4.t. Crf. THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF THE BEST SONGS AND LYRICAL POEMS IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. Selected by F. T. Palgr.vve 4,^ Cxi. LAYS OF MIDDLE AGE, AND OTHEll POEMS. By James Hi-dderwick ^f. Od. THE BISHOP'S AVALK Axn the BISHOP'S TIMES. Poems on Leighton and the Covenanters. By Orwell 5s. Qd. LA NATION BOUTIQUIERE, POINTS OF ^VAR, AND OTHER POEMS. By Henry and Fraxklin Lushington '.is. Od. BY THE SEA, AND OTHER POEMS. By Edmuxd SA^'DARS 4s. C,d. PILATE'S WIFE'S DREAM, AND OTHER POEMS. By Horace Smith 2s. Qd. GILBERT MARLOWE, AND OTHER POEMS. By John Whitmore. With Preface by the Author of " Tom Brown" . . 3s. Cd. MACMILLAN AND CO. LONDON AND CAMBRIDGE. UC SOUTHERN Hi (,h it|/.| I IRRARY f'^C'UTY AA 000 641 353 8 UNIVERSITY OF CA, RIVERSIDE LIBRARY 3 1210 01285 2396