A Woman's Love

1021

"I loved, and, blind with passionate love, I fell. Love brought me down to death, and death to Hell; For God is just, and death for sin is well.

"I do not rage against His high decree,
Nor for myself do ask that grace shall be;
But for my love on earth who mourns for me.

"Great Spirit! Let me see my love again And comfort him one hour, and I were fain To pay a thousand years of fire and pain."

Then said the pitying angel, "Nay, repent
That wild vow! Look, the dial-finger's bent
Down to the last hour of thy punishment!"

But still she wailed, "I pray thee, let me go!
I cannot rise to peace and leave him so.
O, let me soothe him in his bitter woe!"

The brazen gates ground sullenly ajar,
And upwards, joyous, like a rising star,
She rose and vanished in the ether far.

But soon adown the dying sunset sailing,
And like a wounded bird her pinions trailing,
She fluttered back, with broken-hearted wailing,

She sobbed, "I found him by the summer sea
Reclined, his head upon a maiden's knee,-
She curled his hair and kissed him. Woe is me!"

She wept, "Now let my punishment begin!

I have been fond and foolish.

Let me in

To expiate my sorrow and my sin."

The angel answered, "Nay, sad soul, go higher!
To be deceived in your true heart's desire
Was bitterer than a thousand years of fire!"

John Hay [1838-1905]

A TRAGEDY

SHE was only a woman, famished for loving,
Mad with devotion, and such slight things;
And he was a very great musician,

And used to finger his fiddle-strings.

Her heart's sweet gamut is cracking and breaking For a look, for a touch,-for such slight things; But he's such a very great musician

Grimacing and fingering his fiddle-strings.

Théophile Marzials [1850

"MOTHER, I CANNOT MIND MY WHEEL"

MOTHER, I cannot mind my wheel;
My fingers ache, my lips are dry:

O, if you felt the pain I feel!
But O, who ever felt as I?

No longer could I doubt him true-
All other men may use deceit;

He always said my eyes were blue,
And often swore my lips were sweet.
Walter Savage Landor [1775-1864]

AIRLY BEACON

AIRLY Beacon, Airly Beacon;

O the pleasant sight to see
Shires and towns from Airly Beacon,
While my love climbed up to me!

Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon;

O the happy hours we lay

Deep in fern on Airly Beacon,
Courting through the summer's day!

Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon;
O the weary haunt for me,
All alone on Airly Beacon,
With his baby on my knee!

Charles Kingsley [1819-1875]

From the Harbor Hill

1023

A SEA CHILD

THE lover of child Marjory

Had one white hour of life brim full;
Now the old nurse, the rocking sea,

Hath him to lull.

The daughter of child Marjory

Hath in her veins, to beat and run,

The glad indomitable sea,

The strong white sun.

Bliss Carman [1861

FROM THE HARBOR HILL

"Is it a sail?" she asked.

"No," I said.

"Only a white sea-gull with its pinions spread."

"Is it a spar?" she asked.
"No," said I.

"Only the slender light-house tower against the sky."

"Flutters a pennant there?"

"No," I said.

"Only a shred of cloud in the sunset red."

“Surely a hull, a hull!”

"Where?" I cried.

"Only a rock half-bared by the ebbing tide."

"Wait you a ship?" I asked.

"Aye!" quoth she.

"The Harbor Belle; her mate comes home to marry me.

"Surely the good ship hath

Met no harm?"

Was it the west wind wailed or the babe on her arm?

"The Harbor Belle !" she urged.

Naught said I.—

For I knew o'er the grave o' the Harbor Belle the sea-gulls fly.

Gustav Kobbé [1857

ALLAN WATER

On the banks of Allan Water,
When the sweet spring-time did fall,

Was the miller's lovely daughter,
Fairest of them all.

For his bride a soldier sought her,
And a winning tongue had he,
On the banks of Allan Water,
None so gay as she.

On the banks of Allan Water,
When brown autumn spread his store,
There I saw the miller's daughter,
But she smiled no more.

For the summer grief had brought her,
And the soldier false was he,

On the banks of Allan Water,
None so sad as she.

On the banks of Allan Water,
When the winter snow fell fast,
Still was seen the miller's daughter,
Chilling blew the blast.

But the miller's lovely daughter,
Both from cold and care was free;

On the banks of Allan Water,

There a corse lay she.

Matthew Gregory Lewis [1775-1818]

FORSAKEN

O WALY waly up the bank,

And waly waly down the brae,

And waly waly yon burn-side

Where I and my Love wont to gae!

Forsaken

I leaned my back unto an aik,
I thought it was a trusty tree;

But first it bowed, and syne it brak,
Sae my true Love did lichtly me.

O waly waly, but love be bonny
A little while when it is new;
But when 'tis auld, it waxeth cauld
And fades awa' like morning dew.
O wherefore should I busk my head?
Or wherefore should I kame my hair?
For my true Love has me forsook,
And says he'll never loe me mair.

Now Arthur-seat sall be my bed;

The sheets shall ne'er be pressed by me: Saint Anton's well sall be my drink,

Since my true Love has forsaken me. Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw And shake the green leaves aff the tree? O gentle Death, when wilt thou come? For of my life I am wearie.

'Tis not the frost, that freezes fell,

Nor blawing snaw's inclemencie;

'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry,

But my Love's heart grown cauld to me.

When we cam in by Glasgow town

We were a comely sight to see; My Love was clad in black velvet. And I mysel in cramasie.

But had I wist, before I kissed,

That love had been sae ill to win;
I had locked my heart in a case of gowd
And pinned it with a siller pin.
And, O! if my young babe were born,

And sat upon the nurse's knee,

And I mysel were dead and gane,

And the green grass growing over me!

1025

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