THE MADNESS OF KING GOLL
I sat on cushioned otter skin:My word was law from Ith to Emen,And shook at Invar AmarginThe hearts of the world-troubling seamen.And drove tumult and war awayFrom girl and boy and man and beast;The fields grew fatter day by day,The wild fowl of the air increased;And every ancient Ollave said,While he bent down his fading head,"He drives away the Northern cold."They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.
I sat and mused and drank sweet wine;A herdsman came from inland valleys,Crying, the pirates drove his swineTo fill their dark-beaked hollow galleys.I called my battle-breaking men,And my loud brazen battle-carsFrom rolling vale and rivery glen,And under the blinking of the starsFell on the pirates by the deep,And hurled them in the gulph of sleep:These hands won many a torque of gold.They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.
But slowly, as I shouting slewAnd trampled in the bubbling mire,In my most secret spirit grewA whirling and a wandering fire:I stood: keen stars above me shone,Around me shone keen eyes of men:I laughed aloud and hurried onBy rocky shore and rushy fen;I laughed because birds fluttered by,And starlight gleamed, and clouds flew high,And rushes waved and waters rolled.They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.
And now I wander in the woodsWhen summer gluts the golden bees,Or in autumnal solitudesArise the leopard-coloured trees;Or when along the wintry strandsThe cormorants shiver on their rocks;I wander on, and wave my hands,And sing, and shake my heavy locks.The gray wolf knows me; by one earI lead along the woodland deer;The hares run by me growing bold.They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.
I came upon a little town,That slumbered in the harvest moon,And passed a-tiptoe up and down,Murmuring, to a fitful tune,How I have followed, night and day,A tramping of tremendous feet,And saw where this old tympan lay,Deserted on a doorway seat,And bore it to the woods with me;Of some unhuman miseryOur married voiced wildly trolled.They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.
I sang how, when day's toil is done,Orchil shakes out her long dark hairThat hides away the dying sunAnd sheds faint odours through the air:When my hand passed from wire to wireIt quenched, with sound like falling dew,The whirling and the wandering fire;But lift a mournful ulalu,For the kind wires are torn and still,And I must wander wood and hillThrough summer's heat and winter's cold.They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old.
THE STOLEN CHILD
Where dips the rocky highlandOf Sleuth Wood in the lake,There lies a leafy islandWhere flapping herons wakeThe drowsy water rats;There we've hid our faery vats,Full of berries,And of reddest stolen cherries.Come away, O human child!To the waters and the wildWith a faery, hand in hand,For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wave of moonlight glossesThe dim gray sands with light,Far off by furthest RossesWe foot it all the night,Weaving olden dances,Mingling hands and mingling glancesTill the moon has taken flight;To and fro we leapAnd chase the frothy bubbles,While the world is full of troublesAnd is anxious in its sleep.Come away, O human child!To the waters and the wildWith a faery, hand in hand,For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wandering water gushesFrom the hills above Glen-Car,In pools among the rushesThat scarce could bathe a star,We seek for slumbering troutAnd whispering in their earsGive them unquiet dreams;Leaning softly outFrom ferns that drop their tearsOver the young streams,Come away, O human child!To the waters and the wildWith a faery, hand in hand,For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Away with us he's going,The solemn-eyed:He'll hear no more the lowingOf the calves on the warm hillsideOr the kettle on the hobSing peace into his breast,Or see the brown mice bobRound and round the oatmeal-chest.For he comes, the human child,To the waters and the wildWith a faery, hand in hand,From a world more full of weeping than he can understand.
TO AN ISLE IN THE WATER
Shy one, shy one,Shy one of my heart,She moves in the firelightPensively apart.
She carries in the dishes,And lays them in a row.To an isle in the waterWith her would I go.
She carries in the candles,And lights the curtained room,Shy in the doorwayAnd shy in the gloom;
And shy as a rabbit,Helpful and shy.To an isle in the waterWith her would I fly.
DOWN BY THE SALLEY GARDENS
Down by the salley gardens my love and I did meet;She passed the salley gardens with little snow-white feet.She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree;But I, being young and foolish, with her would not agree.
In a field by the river my love and I did stand,And on my leaning shoulder she laid her snow-white hand.She bid me take life easy, as the grass grows on the weirs;But I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears.
THE MEDITATION OF THE OLD FISHERMAN
You waves, though you dance by my feet like children at play,Though you glow and you glance, though you purr and you dart;In the Junes that were warmer than these are, the waves were more gay,When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart.
The herring are not in the tides as they were of old;My sorrow! for many a creak gave the creel in the cartThat carried the take to Sligo town to be sold,When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart.
And ah, you proud maiden, you are not so fair when his oarIs heard on the water, as they were, the proud and apart,Who paced in the eve by the nets on the pebbly shore,When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart.
THE BALLAD OF FATHER O'HART
Good Father John O'HartIn penal days rode outTo a shoneen who had free landsAnd his own snipe and trout.
In trust took he John's lands;Sleiveens were all his race;And he gave them as dowers to his daughters,And they married beyond their place.
But Father John went up,And Father John went down;And he wore small holes in his shoes,And he wore large holes in his gown.