Who sits beside the blessed Virgin now, To whom I send my prayer by night and day She is gone-but you will tell the King, that I, Rack'd as I am with gout, and wrench'd with pains Gain'd in the service of His Highness, yet Am ready to sail forth on one last voyage, And readier, if the King would hear, to lead One last crusade against the Saracen, Going? I am old and slighted: you Somewhat perhaps in coming? my poor thanks! I am but an alien and a Genovese. 1 I was the chief of the race-ho had stricken my father dead But I gather'd my fellows together, I swore I would strike off his head. Each of them look'd like a king, and was noble in birth as in worth, And each of them boasted he sprang from the oldest race upon earth. Each was as brave in the fight as tho bravest hero of song, And each of them liefer had died than have done one another a wrong. He lived on an isle in the occan-we sail'd on a Friday morn— He that hal slain my father the day bcfore I was born. II. And we came to the isle in the occan, and there on the shore was he. But a sudden blast blew us out and away thro' a boundless sea. III. And we came to the Silent Isle that we never had touch'd at before, Where a silent ocean always broke on a silent shore, And the brooks glitter'd on in the light without sound, and the long waterfalls Pour'd in a thunderless plunge to the base of the mountain walls, And the poplar and cypress unshaken by storm flourish'd up beyond sight, And the pine shot aloft from the crag to an unbelievable height, And high in the heaven above there flicker'd a songless lark, And the cock couldn't crow, and the bull couldn't low, and the dog couldn't bark. And round it we went, and thro' it, but never a murmur, a breath It was all of it fair as life, it was all of it quiet as death, And we hated the beautiful Isle, for whenever we strove to speak Our voices were thinner and fainter than any flitter-mouse-shriek; And the men that were mighty of tonguo and could raise such a battle-cry That a hundred who heard it would rush on a thousand lances and dieO they to be dumb'd by the charm I-50 fluster'd with anger were they They almost fell on each other; but after we sail'd away. IV. And we came to the Isle of Shouting, wo landed, a score of wild birds Cried from the topmost summit with human voices and words; Once in an hour they cried, and whenever their voices peal'd The steer fell down at the plow and the harvest died from the field, And the men dropt dead in the valleys and half of the cattle went lame, And the roof sank in on the hearth, and the dwelling broke into flame; And the shouting of these wild birds ran into the hearts of my crew, Till they shouted along with the shouting and seized one another and slew: But I drew them the one from the other; I saw that we could not stay, And we left the dead to the birds and we sail'd with our wounded away. v. And we came to the Isle of Flowers: their breath met us out on the seas, For the Spring and the middle Summer sat each on the lap of the breeze: And the red passion-flower to the cliffs, and the dark blue clematis, clung, And starr'd with a myriad blossom the long convolvulus hung; And the topmost spire of the mountain was lilies in lieu of snow, And the lilies like glaciers winded down, running out below had gorged, and so crazed that at last There were some leap'd into the fire; and away we sail'd, and we past Over that undersea isle, where the water is clearer than air: Thro' the fire of the tulip and roppy, the | We were giddy besides with the fruits we blaze of gorse, and the blush Of millions of roses that sprang without leaf or a thorn from the bnsh; And the whole isle-side flashing down from the peak without ever a tree Swept like a torrent of gems from the sky to the blue of the sea; And we roll'd upon capes of crocus and vannted our kith and our kin, And we wallow'd in beds of lilies, and chanted the triumph of Finn, Till each like a golden image was pollen'd from head to feet And cach was as dry as a cricket, with thirst in the middle-day heat. Blossom and blossom, and promise of blossom, but never a fruit! And we hated the Flowering Isle, as we hated the isle that was mute, And we tore up the flowers by the million and flung them in bight and bay, And we left but a naked rock, and in anger we sail'd away. VI. And we came to the Isle of Fruits: all round from the cliffs and the capes, Purpie or amber, dangled a hundred fathom of grapes, And the warm melon lay like a little sun on the tawny sand, And the fig ran up from the beach and rioted over the land, And the mountain arose like a jewell'd throne thro' the fragrant air, Glowing with all-color'd plums and with golden masses of pear, And the crimson and scarlet of berries that flamed upon bine and vine, But in every berry and fruit was the poisonous pleasure of wine; And the peak of the mountain was apples, the hugest that ever were seen, And they prest, as they grew, on each other, with hardly a leaflet between, And all of them redder than rosiest health or than utterest shame, And setting, when Even descended, the véry sunset aflame; And we stay'd three days, and we gorged and we madden'd, till every one drew His sword on his fellow to slay him, and ever they struck and they slew; And myself, I had eaten but sparely, and fought till I sunder'd the fray, Then I bade them remember my father's death, and we sail'd away. VII. And we came to the Isle of Fire: we were lured by the light from afar, For the peak sent up one league of fire to the Northern Star; Lured by the glare and the blare, but scarcely could stand upright, For the whole isle shudder'd and shook like a man in a mortal affright; Down we look'd: what a garden! O bliss, what a Paradise there! Towers of a happier time, low down in à rainbow deep Silent palaces, quiet fields of eternal sleep! And three of the gentlest and best of my people, whate'er I could say, Plunged head down in the sea, and the l'aradise trembled away. VIII. And we came to the Bounteous Isle, where the heavens lean low on the land, And ever at dawn from the cloud glitter'd o'er us a sunbright hand, Then it open'd and dropt at the side of cach man, as he rose from his rest, Bread enough for his need till the laborless day dipt under the West; And we wander'd about it and thro' it." O never was time so good! And we sang of the triumphs of Finn, and the boast of our ancient blood, And we gazed at the wandering wavê as we sat by the gurgle of springs, And we chanted the songs of the Bards and the glories of fairy kings; But at length we began to be weary, to sigh, and to stretch and yawn, Till we hated the Bounteous Isle and the sunbright hand of the dawn, For there was not an enemy near, but the whole green Isle was our own, And ave took to playing at ball, and we took to throwing the stone, And we took to playing at battle, but that was a perilous play, For the passion of battle was ia us, we slew and we sail'd away. IX. And we came to the Isle of Witches and heard their musical cry "Come to us, O come, come" in the stormy red of a sky Dashing the fires and the shadows of dawn on the beautiful shapes, For a wild witch naked as heaven stood on each of the loftiest capes, And a hundred ranged on the rock like white sea-birds in a row, And a hundred gamboll'd and pranced on the wrecks. in the sand below, And a hundred splash'd from the ledges, and bôsom'd the burst of the spray, But I knew we should fall on each other, and hastily sail'd away. X. And we came in an evil time to the Isle of the Double Towers: One was of smooth-cut stone, one carved all over with flowers: But an earthquake always moved in the| And he spake to me, "O Maeldune, let hollows under the dells, And they shock'd on each other and but ted each other with clashing of bells, And the daws flew out of the Towers and jangled and wrangled in vain, And the clash and boom of the bells ran into the heart and the brain, Till the passion of battle was on us, and all took sides with the Towers, There were some for the clean-cut stone, there were more for the carven flowcrs, And the wrathful thunder of God peal'd over us all the day, For the one half slew the other, and after we sail'd away. ΣΙ. And we came to the Isle of a Saint who be this purpose of thine! Remember the words of the Lord when he told us Vengeance is mine!' His fathers have slain thy fathers in war or in single strife, Thy fathers have slain his fathers, each taken a life for a life, Thy father had slain his father, how long Go back to the Isle of Finn and suffer the And we kiss'd the fringe of his beard and ΧΙΙ. And we came to the Isle we were blown O weary was I of the travel, the trouble, PREFATORY SONNET. TO THE NINETEENTH CENTURY." peak THOSE that of late had fleeted far and fast | For some, descending from the sacred Our true co-mates regather round the Of diverse tongue, but with a common will Of hoar high-templed Faith, have leagued again Their lot with ours to rove the world about; And some are wilder comrades, sworn to If any golden harbor be for men TO THE REV. W. H. BROOKFIELD. BROOKS, for they call'd you so that knew | you best, Old Brooks, who loved so well to mouth my rhymes, How oft we two have heard St. Mary's chimes! How oft the Cantab supper, host and guest, Would echo helpless laughter to your jest! How oft with him we paced that walk of limes, Him, the lost light of those dawn-golden times, Who loved you well! Now both are gone to re-t. Yon man of humorous melancholy mark, MONTENEGRO. THEY rose to where their sovran eagle sails, | By thousands down the crags and thro They kept their faith, their freedom, on the height, Chaste, frugal, savage, arm'd by day and night Against the Turk; whose inroad nowhere scales Their headlong passes, but his footstep fails, And red with blood the Crescent reels from fight Before their dauntless hundreds, in prone fight the vales. O smallest anong peoples! rough rockthrone Of Freedom! warriors beating back the swarm Of Turkish Islam for five hundred years, Great Tscrnogora! never since thine Own Black ridges drew the cloud and brake the storm Has breathed a race of mightier mountaineers. BATTLE OF BRUNANBURII. Constantinus, King of the Scots, after having sworn allegiance to Athelstan, allied himself with the Danes of Ireland under Anlaf, and invading England, was defeated by Athelstan and his brother Edmund with great slaughter at Brunanburh in the year 937. I. ATHELSTAN King, Edmund Atheling, Slew with the sword-edge Hew'd the linden-wood, † Hack'd the battle-shield, Bons of Edward with hammer'd brands. II. Theirs was a greatness Got from their Grandsires Theirs that so often in Strife with their enemies Struck for their hoards and their hearths and their homes. III. Bow'd the spoiler, Bent the Scotsman, Fell the ship-crews Doom'd to the death. All the field with blood of the fighters Flow'd, from when first the great Lamp of the Lord God Lord everlasting, Glode over earth till the glorious crea ture Sunk to his setting. IV. There lay many a man There was the Scotsman V. We the West-Saxons, Lasted, in companies Troubled the track of the host that we hated, Grimly with swords that were sharp from the grindstone, Fiercely we hack'd at the flyers before us. VI. Mighty the Mercian, I have more or less availed myself of my son's prose translation of this poem in the Contemporary Review (November, 1576). †Shields of linden-wood. Sparing not any of Those that with Anlaf, Weltering waters Borne in the bark's-bosom, Drew to this island, Doom'd to the death. |