Astrophel and Other Poems Part 15

(Sweet fruits are sair to gather) "That now I may die for my auld sin's sake."

And the wind wears owre the heather.

"For the dead was in wait now fifty year,"

(Sweet fruits are sair to gather) "And now shall I die for his blood's sake here."

And the wind wears owre the heather.

JACOBITE SONG

Now who will speak, and lie not, And pledge not life, but give?

Slaves herd with herded cattle: The dawn grows bright for battle, And if we die, we die not; And if we live, we live.

The faith our fathers fought for, The kings our fathers knew, We fight but as they fought for: We seek the goal they sought for, The chance they hailed and knew, The praise they strove and wrought for, To leave their blood as dew On fields that flower anew.

Men live that serve the stranger; Hounds live that huntsmen tame: These life-days of our living Are days of G.o.d's good giving Where death smiles soft on danger And life scowls dark on shame.

And what would you do other, Sweet wife, if you were I?

And how should you be other, My sister, than your brother, If you were man as I, Born of our sire and mother, With choice to cower and fly, And chance to strike and die?

No churl's our oldworld name is, The lands we leave are fair: But fairer far than these are, But wide as all the seas are, But high as heaven the fame is That if we die we share.

Our name the night may swallow, Our lands the churl may take: But night nor death may swallow, Nor h.e.l.l's nor heaven's dim hollow, The star whose height we take, The star whose light we follow For faith's unfaltering sake Till hope that sleeps awake.

Soft hope's light lure we serve not, Nor follow, fain to find: Dark time's last word may smite her Dead, ere man's falsehood blight her, But though she die, we swerve not, Who cast not eye behind.

Faith speaks when hope dissembles: Faith lives when hope lies dead: If death as life dissembles, And all that night a.s.sembles Of stars at dawn lie dead, Faint hope that smiles and trembles May tell not well for dread: But faith has heard it said.

Now who will fight, and fly not, And grudge not life to give?

And who will strike beside us, If life's or death's light guide us?

For if we live, we die not, And if we die, we live.

THE BALLAD OF DEAD MEN'S BAY

The sea swings owre the slants of sand, All white with winds that drive; The sea swirls up to the still dim strand, Where nae man comes alive.

At the grey soft edge of the fruitless surf A light flame sinks and springs; At the grey soft rim of the flowerless turf A low flame leaps and clings.

What light is this on a sunless sh.o.r.e, What gleam on a starless sea?

Was it earth's or h.e.l.l's waste womb that bore Such births as should not be?

As lithe snakes turning, as bright stars burning, They bicker and beckon and call; As wild waves churning, as wild winds yearning, They flicker and climb and fall.

A soft strange cry from the landward rings-- "What ails the sea to shine?"

A keen sweet note from the spray's rim springs-- "What fires are these of thine?"

A soul am I that was born on earth For ae day's waesome span: Death bound me fast on the bourn of birth Ere I were christened man.

"A light by night, I fleet and fare Till the day of wrath and woe; On the hems of earth and the skirts of air Winds hurl me to and fro."

"O well is thee, though the weird be strange That bids thee flit and flee; For hope is child of the womb of change, And hope keeps watch with thee.

"When the years are gone, and the time is come, G.o.d's grace may give thee grace; And thy soul may sing, though thy soul were dumb, And shine before G.o.d's face.

"But I, that lighten and revel and roll With the foam of the plunging sea, No sign is mine of a breathing soul That G.o.d should pity me.

"Nor death, nor heaven, nor h.e.l.l, nor birth Hath part in me nor mine: Strong lords are these of the living earth And loveless lords of thine.

"But I that know nor lord nor life More sure than storm or spray, Whose breath is made of sport and strife, Whereon shall I find stay?"

"And wouldst thou change thy doom with me, Full fain with thee would I: For the life that lightens and lifts the sea Is more than earth or sky.

"And what if the day of doubt and doom Shall save nor smite not me?

I would not rise from the slain world's tomb If there be no more sea.

"Take he my soul that gave my soul, And give it thee to keep; And me, while seas and stars shall roll Thy life that falls on sleep."

That word went up through the mirk mid sky, And even to G.o.d's own ear: And the Lord was ware of the keen twin cry, And wroth was he to hear.

He's tane the soul of the unsained child That fled to death from birth; He's tane the light of the wan sea wild, And bid it burn on earth.

He's given the ghaist of the babe new-born The gift of the water-sprite, To ride on revel from morn to morn And roll from night to night.

He's given the sprite of the wild wan sea The gift of the new-born man, A soul for ever to bide and be When the years have filled their span.

When a year was gone and a year was come, O loud and loud cried they-- "For the lee-lang year thou hast held us dumb Take now thy gifts away!"

O loud and lang they cried on him, And sair and sair they prayed: "Is the face of thy grace as the night's face grim For those thy wrath has made?"

A cry more bitter than tears of men From the rim of the dim grey sea;-- "Give me my living soul again, The soul thou gavest me, The doom and the dole of kindly men, To bide my weird and be!"

A cry more keen from the wild low land Than the wail of waves that roll;-- "Take back the gift of a loveless hand, Thy gift of doom and dole, The weird of men that bide on land; Take from me, take my soul!"

The hands that smite are the hands that spare; They build and break the tomb; They turn to darkness and dust and air The fruits of the waste earth's womb; But never the gift of a granted prayer, The dole of a spoken doom.

Winds may change at a word unheard, But none may change the tides: The prayer once heard is as G.o.d's own word; The doom once dealt abides.

And ever a cry goes up by day, And ever a wail by night; And nae ship comes by the weary bay But her shipmen hear them wail and pray, And see with earthly sight The twofold flames of the twin lights play Where the sea-banks green and the sea-floods grey Are proud of peril and fain of prey, And the sand quakes ever; and ill fare they That look upon that light.

DEDICATION