A Celtic Psaltery Part 29

Ah, but the glorious sun on high, Searching the sea, fold on fold, Gladdens with coronals of gold Each troubled billow heaving by.

Though he remove him for a s.p.a.ce, Though gloom resume the sleeping sea, Yet of his beams her dreams shall be, Yet shall his face renew her grace.

Then when sorrow is outpoured, Pain chokes the channels of thy blood, Think upon the sun and the flood, Tarry thou the leisure of the Lord.

SPRING IS NOT DEAD

Snow on the earth, though March is wellnigh over; Ice on the flood; Fingers of frost where late the hawthorn cover Burgeoned with bud.

Yet in the drift the patient primrose hiding, Yet in the stream the glittering troutlet gliding, Yet from the root the sap still upward springing, Yet overhead one faithful skylark singing, "Spring is not dead!"

Brows fringed with snow, the furrowed brows of sorrow, Cheeks pale with care: Pulses of pain that throb from night till morrow; Hearts of despair!

O, yet take comfort, still your joy approaches, Dark is the hour that on the dawn encroaches, April's own smile shall yet succeed your sighing, April's own voice set every song-bird crying, "Spring is not dead!"

AIM NOT TOO HIGH

(To an Old English air)

Aim not too high at things beyond thy reach Nor give the rein to reckless thought or speech.

Is it not better all thy life to bide Lord of thyself than all the earth beside?

Then if high Fortune far from thee take wing, Why shouldst thou envy Counsellor or King?

Purple or buckram--wherefore make ado What coat may cover, so the heart be true?

But if at last thou gather wealth at will, Thou best shalt succour those that need it still; Since he who best doth poverty endure, Should prove when rich heart's brother to the poor.

WILD WINE OF NATURE

IN PRAISE OF WATER-DRINKING

(After Duncan Ban McIntyre)

Wild Wine of Nature, honey tasted, Ever streaming, never wasted, From long and long and long ago In limpid, cool, life-giving flow Up-bubbling with its cordial bland Even from the thirsty desert sand-- O draught to quench man's thirst upon Far sweeter than the cinnamon!

Like babes upon their mother's breast, To Earth our craving lips are pressed For her free gift of matchless price, Pure as it poured in Paradise.

BRIDAL INVOCATION

Jesu, from to-day Guide us on our way, So shall we, no moment wasting, Follow Thee with holy hasting, Led by Thy dear Hand To the Blessed land.

Through despondence dread, Still support our tread; Though our heavy burdens bow us, How to bear them bravely, show us!

Such adversity Is but the path to Thee.

When our bosom's grief Clamours for relief, When we share another's sorrow, May we Thy sweet patience borrow, That to our Heavenly Father's Will We may trust each issue still.

Thus our onward way, Order day by day, Though upon rough roads Thou set us, Thy fond care shall ne'er forget us, Till "underneath Death's darkening door; We see the glimmering of Heaven's floor."

THE COMING OF SIR GALAHAD AND A VISION OF THE GRAIL

At the solemn Feast of Pentecost Arthur the King and his chosen Knights Sat, as we sit, in the Court of Camelot side by side at The Table Round.

None made music, none held converse, none knew hunger, none were athirst, Each possessed with the same strange longing, each fulfilled with one awful hope; Each of us fearing even to whisper what he felt to his bosom friend, Lest the spell should be snapped in sunder.

Thus we sat awaiting a sign!

When, on a sudden, out of the distance blared the bugle that hangs at the gate; Loud the barbican leaped on its hinges; and the hollow porch and the vacant hall And the roof of the long resounding corridor echoed the advent of unknown feet, The feet of a stranger approaching the threshold step by step irresistibly: Till opened yonder door and through it strode to this Table the Virgin Knight-- Strode and stood with uplifted vizor.

Fear fell on all, save only the King!

Uprose Arthur, unbarred his helmet; shone confessed the countenance chaste.

Then, for so the Spirit inspired him, set the youth on the Perilous Seat; Brake as he pressed it a Peal of thunder and paled the firelight, paled the lamps, Such a sudden stream of splendour flooded the Feast with miraculous light; Whilst, O Wonder! round the Table swathed in samite, dazzling bright, Pa.s.sed the Presence, mystical, shadowy, ghostly gliding--the Holy Grail, Pa.s.sed, though none could its shape discover, nay, not even the Virgin Knight, Pa.s.sed, pa.s.sed with strains seraphic, incense odours, rainbow hues-- Pa.s.sed, pa.s.sed, and where it entered, suddenly melted out of sight.

ASK WHAT THOU WILT

Thy blood was spilt From death to set us free; Ask what Thou wilt, 'Tis consecrate to Thee!

Thy hands and feet For us the nails went through.

What is most meet, Bid ours for Thee to do.

Ask what Thou wilt.

All round Thy Brows The Throne of Heavenly thought, Divine Wisdom's house-- For us the thorns were wrought; Therefore, though dust In balance with Thy pains, Take Thou, in trust, The travail of our brains!

Ask what Thou wilt.

Thy Heart of Love With all its human aches, By the spear's proof, Was broken for our sakes; Our hearts, therefore, And all we love and own Are ours no more, But Thine and Thine alone.

Ask what Thou wilt.

Though homes be riven, At Thy supreme behest, Yea! the sword driven Through many a mother's breast; Thy blood was spilt From death to set us free; Ask what Thou wilt 'Tis consecrate to Thee.