And night came down over the solemn waste, Out of the mist and hum of that low land, Right for the polar star, past Orgunjè, Brimming, and bright, and large; then sands begia The long'd-for dash of waves is heard, and wide And tranquil, from whose floor the new-bathed stars THE FORSAKEN MERMAN. Come, dear children, let us away; Now my brothers call from the bay, Now the great winds shoreward blow, Now the salt tides seaward flow; Champ and chafe and toss in the spray. This way, this way! Call her once before you go Call once yet! In a voice that she will know: 'Margaret! Margaret!' Children's voices should be dear This way, this way! 'Mother dear, we cannot stay! The wild white horses foam and fret.' Margaret! Margaret! Come, dear children, come away down; One last look at the white-wall'd town, And the little grey church on the windy shore; Then come down! She will not come though you call all day; Children dear, was it yesterday We heard the sweet bells over the bay? In the caverns where we lay, Through the surf and through the swell, Sail and sail, with unshut eye, Round the world for ever and aye? When did music come this way? Children dear, was it yesterday (Call yet once) that she went away? Once she sate with you and me, On a red gold throne in the heart of the sea, And the youngest sate, on her knee. She comb'd its bright hair, and she tended it well, When down swung the sound of a far-off bell. She sigh'd, she look'd up through the clear green sea; In the little grey church on the shore to-day. And I lose my poor soul, Merman! here with thee.' Children dear, were we long alone? 'The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan; Long prayers,' I said, 'in the world they say; Come!' I said; and we rose through the surf in the bay. Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the white-wall'd town; To the little grey church on the windy hill. From the church came a murmur of folk at their prayers, We climb'd on the graves, on the stones worn with rains, For her eyes were seal'd to the holy book! Loud prays the priest; shut stands the door. Come away, come down, call no more! Down, down, down! Down to the depths of the sea! She sits at her wheel in the humming town, Singing most joyfully. Hark what she sings: 'O joy, O joy, For the humming street, and the child with its toy! For the priest, and the bell, and the holy well ; For the wheel where I spun, And the blessed light of the sun!' And so she sings her fill, Singing most joyfully, Till the spindle drops from her hand, And the whizzing wheel stands still. She steals to the window, and looks at the sand, And over the sand at the sea; And her eyes are set in a stare; A long, long sigh; For the cold strange eyes of a little Mermaiden Come away, away children; She will start from her slumber The waves roar and whirl, A ceiling of amber, A pavement of pearl. Singing Here came a mortal, And alone dwell for ever The kings of the sea.' But, children, at midnight, We will gaze from the sand-hills, At the church on the hill-side And then come back down. Singing: 'There dwells a loved one, She left lonely for ever The kings of the sea.' AUSTERITY OF POETRY. That son of Italy who tried to blow1, Fair was the bride, and on her front did glow |