Elves and Heroes Part 8

LOST SONGS.

Harp of my fathers--on the mouldering wall Of days forgotten--like a far-off wind Hushing the fir-wood at soft even-fall, Thy low-heard whispers to my heart recall The wistful songs, to Silence Old consigned, That Ossian sang when he was frail and blind.

Thy fitful notes from the melodious trees, I fain would echo in my feeble rhyme-- The inner music quivering on the breeze I hear; and throbbing from the beating seas, On ancient sh.o.r.es, the wearied pulse of Time That mingles with thy melodies sublime.

OTHER POEMS.

THE DREAM.

'Twas when I woke I knew it was a dream, Measured by moments, that to me did seem, A life-long spell of joy and peace to be--

Will that last dream that comes ere death descends, From which I shall not wake to know it ends, Thus seem to live on through Eternity?

FREE WILL.

Say not the will of man is free Within the limits of his soul-- Who from his heritage can flee?

Who can his destiny control?

In vain we wage perpetual strife, 'Gainst instincts dumb and blind desires-- Who leads must serve.. The pulse of life Throbs with the dictates of our sires.

Since when the world began to be, And life through hidden purpose came, From sire to son unceasingly The task bequeathed hath been the same.

We strive, while fetters bind us fast, We seek to do what needs must be-- We move through bondage with the past In service to posterity.

STRIFE.

Weary of strife-- The surge and clash of city life-- I sought for peace in solitude, Within the hushed and darkened wood And on the lonesome moor-- But found contending leaf and root Engaged in conflict fierce though mute, While what was frail was slain By what was strong in dire dispute-- I sought for peace in vain!

The world, sustained by strife, endures in pain.

"All things that are in conflict be,"

I murmured on the shelving strand, Where struggling winds would fain be free-- The tides in conflict with the wind's command, Turned tossing, wearily-- I heard the loud sea labouring to the land-- I saw the dumb land striving with the sea.

SONNET.

(_Written in the Stone Gallery of St Paul's._)

The drowsing city sparkles in the heat, And murmur in mine ears unceasingly The surging tides of that vast human sea-- The billows of life that break with m.u.f.fled beat And vibrate through this high and lone retreat; While over all, serene, and fair, and free, Thy dome is reared in naked majesty Grey, old St Paul's ... In thee the Ages meet, Slumbering amidst the trophies of their strife.

And in their dreams thou hearest, while the cries Of triumph and despair ascend from Life, The murmurings of immortality-- Thou Sentinel of Hope that doth despise What was and is not, waiting what shall be!

"OUT OF THE MOUTHS OF BABES."

"Is baby dead?" he whispered, with wide eyes Tearless, but full of eloquent regret, His childish face grown prematurely wise-- Pond'ring the problem death before him set.

"Baby is dead," I answered, as I laid My hand on her frail forehead with a sigh; "Oh! daddy, why did G.o.d do this?" he said, And silently my heart made answer, "Why?"

He touched her white, worn face, and said, "How cold Is our wee baby now." ... His eyes were deep ...

Then came his little brother, two years old, He looked, and lisped, "The baby is asleep."

NOTES.

_The Wee Folk_.--In Gaelic they are usually called "The Peace People"

(sithchean). Other names are "Wee Folk" (daoine beaga); "Light Folk"

(slaugh eutrom), etc. As in the Lowlands, they are also referred to as "guid fowk" and "guid neighbours."

_The Banshee_ (Beans.h.i.th).--Sometimes referred to as "The Fairy Queen,"

sometimes as "The Green Lady." She sings a song while she washes the clothes of one about to meet a swift and tragic fate. In the Fian poems she converses with those who see her, and foretells the fate of warriors going to battle.

_The Blue Men of the Minch_ (Na Fir Ghorm).--Between the Shant Isles (Charmed Isles) and Lewis is the "Stream of the Blue Men." They are the "sea-horses" of the island Gaels. Their presence in the strait was believed to be the cause of its billowy restlessness and swift currents.

_The Changeling_.--When the fairies robbed a mother of her babe, they left behind a useless, old, and peevish fairy, who took the form of a child. This belief may have originated in the a.s.sumption that when a baby became ill and fretful, it was a changeling.

_The Urisk_ is, if anything, a personification of fear. It is a silent, cloudy shape which haunts lonely moors, and follows travellers, but rarely does more than scare them.

_My Fairy Lover_.--Fairies fell in love with human beings, and deserted them when their love was returned. Women of unsound mind, given to wandering alone in solitary places, were believed to be the victims of fairy love.

_Yon Fairy Dog_ (An Cu Sith) was heard howling on stormy nights. He was "big as a stirk," one informant has declared The "fearsome tail" appears to have been not the least impressive thing about it. The MacCodrums were brave and fearless, and were supposed to be descended from Seals, which were believed to be human beings under spells.

_My Gunna_.--This kindly, but solitary, elf herded cattle by night, and prevented them from falling over the rocks. He was seen only by those gifted with the faculty of "second sight." The Gunna resembles the Lowland "Brownie."

_Her Evil Eye_.--Belief in the Evil Eye is still quite common, even among educated people, in the Highlands. Not a few children wear "the cord," to which a silver coin is appended, as a charm against the influence of "the eye."

_The Little Old Man of the Barn_ (Bodachan Sabhaill).--Like the Gunna, he is a variety the kindly Brownie, and a.s.sisted the needy.