by Paul Keegan
Your warlike Kings and Heros bold,
Great Captains and Commanders;
Your mighty Cèsars fam’d of old,
And Conquering Alexanders;
45
In fields they fought and laurels bought
And bulwarks strong did batter,
But still they grac’d our noble list
And ranked Fornicator!!!
(written 1785)
SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE Dejection. An Ode, 1802 Written April 4, 1802
‘Late, late yestreen I saw the New Moon,
With the Old Moon in her arms;
And I fear, I fear, my master dear,
We shall have a deadly storm.’
Ballad of Sir Patrick Spence
Well! if the Bard was weather-wise, who made
The grand Old Ballad of Sir PATRICK SPENCE,
This night, so tranquil now, will not go hence
Unrous’d by winds, that ply a busier trade
Than those, which mould yon clouds in lazy flakes,
Or this dull sobbing draft, that drones and rakes
Upon the strings of this Œolian lute,
Which better far were mute.
For lo! the New Moon, winter-bright!
And overspread with phantom light,
(With swimming phantom light o’erspread,
But rimm’d and circled by a silver thread)
I see the Old Moon in her lap, foretelling
The coming on of rain and squally blast:
And O! that even now the gust were swelling,
And the slant night-show’r driving loud and fast!
Those sounds which oft have rais’d me, while they aw’d,
And sent my soul abroad,
Might now perhaps their wonted impulse give,
Might startle this dull pain, and make it move and live!
II
A grief without a pang, void, dark, and drear,
A stifled, drowsy, unimpassion’d grief,
Which finds no nat’ral outlet, no relief
In word, or sigh, or tear –
O EDMUND! in this wan and heartless mood,
To other thoughts by yonder throstle woo’d,
All this long eve, so balmy and serene,
Have I been gazing on the Western sky,
And its peculiar tint of yellow-green:
And still I gaze – and with how blank an eye!
And those thin clouds above, in flakes and bars,
That give away their motion to the stars;
Those stars, that glide behind them, or between,
Now sparkling, now bedimm’d, but always seen;
Yon crescent moon, as fix’d as if it grew,
In its own cloudless, starless lake of blue,
A boat becalm’d! a lovely sky-canoe!
I see them all, so excellently fair –
I see, not feel, how beautiful they are!
III
My genial spirits fail,
And what can these avail,
To lift the smoth’ring weight from off my breast!
It were a vain endeavour,
Tho’ I should gaze for ever
On that green light that lingers in the west:
I may not hope from outward forms to win
The passion and the life, whose fountains are within!
IV
O EDMUND! we receive but what we give,
And in our life alone does Nature live:
Ours is her wedding-garment, ours her shroud!
And would we aught behold, of higher worth,
Than that inanimate cold world, allow’d
To the poor loveless ever-anxious crowd,
Ah from the soul itself must issue forth,
A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud
Enveloping the earth –
And from the soul itself must there be sent
A sweet and potent voice, of its own birth,
Of all sweet sounds the life and element!
O pure of heart! Thou need’st not ask of me
What this strong music in the soul may be?
What, and wherein it doth exist,
This light, this glory, this fair luminous mist,
This beautiful and beauty-making pow’r?
JOY, virtuous EDMUND! joy, that ne’er was given,
Save to the pure, and in their purest hour,
Joy, EDMUND! is the spirit and the pow’r,
Which wedding Nature to us gives in dow’r
A new earth and new Heaven,
Undream’d of by the sensual and the proud –
JOY is the sweet voice, JOY the luminous cloud –
We, we ourselves rejoice!
And thence flows all that charms or ear or sight,
All melodies the echoes of that voice
All colours a suffusion from that light.
V
Yes, dearest EDMUND, yes!
There was a time when, tho’ my path was rough,
This joy within me dallied with distress,
And all misfortunes were but as the stuff
Whence fancy made me dreams of happiness:
For hope grew round me, like the twining vine,
And fruits and foliage, not my own, seem’d mine.
But now afflictions bow me down to earth:
Nor care I, that they rob me of my mirth,
But O! each visitation
Suspends what nature gave me at my birth,
My shaping spirit of imagination.
[The sixth and seventh Stanzas omitted.]1
* * * * * *
* * * * * *
* * * * * *
VIII
O wherefore did I let it haunt my mind,
This dark distressful dream?
I turn from it and listen to the wind
Which long has rav’d unnotic’d. What a scream
Of agony, by torture, lengthen’d out,
That lute sent forth! O wind, that rav’st without,
Bare crag, or mountain tairn, or blasted tree,
Or pine-grove, whither woodman never clomb,
Or lonely house, long held the witches’ home,
Methinks were fitter instruments for thee,
Mad Lutanist! who, in this month of show’rs,
Of dark-brown gardens, and of peeping flow’rs,
Mak’st devil’s yule, with worse than wintry song,
The blossoms, buds, and tim’rous leaves among.
Thou Actor, perfect in all tragic sounds!
Thou mighty Poet, ev’n to frenzy bold!
What tell’st thou now about?
’Tis of the rushing of an host in rout,
With many groans of men with smarting wounds –
At once they groan with pain, and shudder with the cold!
But hush! there is a pause of deepest silence!
And all that noise, as of a rushing crowd,
With groans and tremulous shudderings – all is over!
It tells another tale, with sounds less deep and loud –
A tale of less affright,
And temper’d with delight,
As EDMUND’s self had fram’d the tender lay –
’Tis of a little child,
Upon a lonesome wild,
Not far from home; but she has lost her way –
And now moans low, in utter grief and fear;
And now screams loud, and hopes to make her mother hear!
IX
’Tis midnight, and small thoughts have I of sleep;
Full seldom may my friend such vigils keep!
Visit him, gentle Sleep, with wings of healing,
And may this storm be but a mountain birth,
May all the stars hang bright above his dwelling,
Silent, as tho’ they watch’d the sleeping earth!
With light heart may he rise,
Gay fancy, cheerful eyes,
And sing his lofty song, and teach me to rejoice!
&n
bsp; O EDMUND, friend of my devoutest choice,
O rais’d from anxious dread and busy care,
By the immenseness of the good and fair
Which thou see’st ev’ry where
Joy lifts thy spirit, joy attunes thy voice,
To thee do all things live from pole to pole,
Their life the eddying of thy living soul!
O simple spirit, guided from above,
O lofty Poet, full of light and love,
Brother and friend of my devoutest choice,
Thus may’st thou ever evermore rejoice!
SIR WALTER SCOTT (editor) from Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border
ANONYMOUS The Wife of Usher’s Well
There lived a wife at Usher’s Well,
And a wealthy wife was she;
She had three stout and stalwart sons,
And sent them oer the sea.
5
They hadna been a week from her,
A week but barely ane,
Whan word came to the carline wife
That her three sons were gane.
They hadna been a week from her,
10
A week but barely three,
Whan word came to the carlin wife
That her sons she’d never see.
‘I wish the wind may never cease,
Nor fashes in the flood,
15
Till my three sons come hame to me,
In earthly flesh and blood.’
It fell about the Martinmass,
When nights are lang and mirk,
The carlin wife’s three sons came hame,
20
And their hats were o the birk.
It neither grew in syke nor ditch,
Nor yet in ony sheugh;
But at the gates o Paradise,
That birk grew fair eneugh.
* * * * * *
25
‘Blow up the fire, my maidens,
Bring water from the well;
For a’ my house shall feast this night,
Since my three sons are well.’
And she has made to them a bed,
30
She’s made it large and wide,
And she’s taen her mantle her about,
Sat down at the bed-side.
* * * * * *
Up then crew the red, red cock,
And up then crew the gray;
35
The eldest to the youngest said,
‘T is time we were away.
The cock he hadna crawd but once,
And clappd his wings at a’,
40
When the youngest to the eldest said,
Brother, we must awa.
‘The cock doth craw, the day doth daw,
The channerin’ worm doth chide;
Gin we be mist out o our place,
A sair pain we maun bide.
45
‘Fare ye weel, my mother dear!
Fareweel to barn and byre!
And fare ye weel, the bonny lass
That kindles my mother’s fire!’
ANONYMOUS Thomas Rhymer
True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank,
A ferlie he spied wi’ his ee,
And there he saw a lady bright,
Come riding down by the Eildon Tree.
5
Her shirt was o the grass-green silk,
Her mantle o the velvet fyne,
At ilka tett of her horse’s mane
Hang fifty siller bells and nine.
True Thomas, he pulld aff his cap,
10
And louted low down to his knee:
‘All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven!
For thy peer on earth I never did see.’
‘O no, O no, Thomas,’ she said,
‘That name does not belang to me:
15
I am but the queen of fair Elfland,
That am hither come to visit thee.
‘Harp and carp, Thomas,’ she said,
‘Harp and carp along wi me,
And if ye dare to kiss my lips,
20
Sure of your bodie I will be.’
‘Betide me weal, betide me woe,
That weird shall never daunton me;’
Syne he has kissed her rosy lips,
All underneath the Eildon Tree.
25
‘Now, ye maun go wi me,’ she said,
‘True Thomas, ye maun go wi me,
And ye maun serve me seven years,
Thro weal or woe, as may chance to be.’
She mounted on her milk-white steed,
30
She’s taen True Thomas up behind,
And aye wheneer her bridle rung,
The steed flew swifter than the wind.
O they rade on, and farther on –
The steed gaed swifter than the wind –
35
Untill they reached a desart wide,
And living land was left behind.
‘Light down, light down, now, True Thomas,
And lean your head upon my knee;
Abide and rest a little space,
40
And I will shew you ferlies three.
‘O see ye not yon narrow road,
So thick beset with thorns and briers?
That is the path of righteousness,
Tho after it but few enquires.
45
‘And see not ye that braid braid road,
That lies across that lily leven?
That is the path of wickedness,
Tho some call it the road to heaven.
‘And see not ye that bonny road,
50
That winds about the fernie brae?
That is the road to fair Elfland,
Where thou and I this night maun gae.
‘But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue,
Whatever ye may hear or see,
55
For, if you speak word in Elflyn land,
Ye’ll neer get back to your ain countrie.’
O they rade on, and farther on,
And they waded thro rivers aboon the knee,
And they saw neither sun nor moon,
60
But they heard the roaring of the sea.
It was mirk mirk night, and there was nae stern light,
