Etain the Beloved and Other Poems Part 2

The spider Night now spins his monstrous web, And spots the dark with many a pale coc.o.o.n Hung in his vaporous cave, whose phantoms creep In visions round the heavy brain of sleep.

Yet one, among the sleepers, never turns To ease his shoulder of the weight of night; But with the shield of sweet oblivion spurns Those wandering shafts that tease with sound and sight; Till in a quiet, deep as kingly urns In buried places, Ailill deadly lies, Blind to the spreading signal of the skies.

Now the thick dark, that pressed Etain's calm face Like softest wool, thins out, and moves, and lifts; And like a memory's vague recovered trace The silent world, looming through cloudy rifts, Floats greyly on the grey abyss of s.p.a.ce, Then slowly forms, and stands at last in light Built on the crumbled ruins of the night.

Soon on a cloud o'erhung with heliotrope Day's harp is lifted, wire on golden wire; And now great Dagda's burning fingers grope From string to string, then reaching high and higher Unto the utterance of some eager hope, Break through the vibrant silences, and spring Into one living voice of leaf and wing.

Somewhere the snipe now taps his tiny drum; The moth goes fluttering upward from the heath; And where no lightest foot unmarked may come, The rabbit, tiptoe, plies his shiny teeth On luscious herbage; and with strident hum The yellow bees, bl.u.s.tering from flower to flower, Scatter from dew-filled cups a sparkling shower.

The meadowsweet shakes out its feathery ma.s.s; And rumorous winds, that stir the silent eaves, Bearing abroad faint perfumes as they pa.s.s, Thrill with some wondrous tale the fluttering leaves, And whisper secretly along the gra.s.s Where gossamers, for day's triumphal march, Hang out from blade to blade their diamond arch.

Forth came Etain, and with a little cry Scattered the councils of the feathery brood; And faced unblenched the red sun's winkless eye That hawk-like hung above the quivering wood; And pa.s.sed with stately step and head on high Toward a secluded place--where one doth wait Silent and imperturbable as fate.

Sweetly the wizard palms of morning sleek Her brow with spells; and when a b.u.t.terfly Brushes with soft familiar wing her cheek, Through the deep woods she hears a ghostly sigh, As if a hidden G.o.d were fain to speak An ancient ageless love that, fold by fold, Wraps her with joy in throbbing arms of old.

Now is her sandalled foot upon the edge Of a loud-leaping stream, that flings its damp To cool the sorrel shaking on its ledge Under the squirrel's pine, and in a swamp Goes dumb among the heron-haunted sedge, Where the swift kingfisher, a moment seen, Flashes and fades, a flame of sudden green.

At length she stands within the appointed place, Where leafy boughs in odorous dusk are blent.

But wherefore now across her tranced face Pa.s.s the quick fingers of bewilderment, And doubt on doubt like shadows shadows chase?

Faintly she speaks, "Ailill I came to see.

Who art thou--for thou art yet art not he?"

From her soft eye no loosened glances tell Desire or dread, to him whose cloudless gaze Knows from what heights of old her footsteps fell Out of clear light, into this web of days And nights and mystery inscrutable, And marks how in the calm of inner power She moves unmoved to meet her destined hour.

"Etain," he whispered, and again, "Etain."

Such utter love went throbbing through her name That nigh beyond her doubt her foot had gone; Yet stood she wavering like a lonely flame Outburning night, that feels the shake of dawn; Then said, "Thy name, that doubt aside he cast?"

"Mider," he answered, "come for thee at last."

"Mider?" she echoed, "Mider?" and the sound Smote upon hidden doors, and roused from sleep Faint eyes that dreamed, vague hands that groped around The thought behind her thought, and from the deep Beneath her thought climbed upward, to the bound Whose shadowy marge like midnight gloom is cast Between the pa.s.sing moment and the past.

Then Mider said, "For no poor worm's desire, Nor aught of earth, thou comest, O beloved!

But for another's good thy thoughts conspire; And far from self thy feet have hither moved To the high purpose of the sacred fire That burns thine upward path through joy and pain, Through birth, through life, through death, to me again."

Then asked she all bewildered: "Who art thou Whose eyes have read my soul?" And answered he, "Thine am I by the immemorial vow That made thee mine, beloved! eternally, When for a bride-price, on thy peerless brow I set a diadem beyond the worth Of all the crowns of all the queens of earth."

Swiftly her thought divining, "Where, and when, And wherefore parted, thou, beloved! shalt know.

That land which gleams in the rapt poet's ken, Set in a sea that has no ebb or flow, Beyond the spear-cast of the dreams of men, Is mine, and from all changings far withdrawn There spreads the realm of Mider--and Etain.

"And there we loved, till that Almighty Power Who set the heavens wheeling with a nod, Blew thee, a b.u.t.terfly, from flower to flower, Until beyond our realm, a splendid G.o.d Knew thee and cherished in a blossomy bower, And nightly thy fair form in purple laid, And at thy side his couch of slumber made.

"But thee again the breath of tempest found, And swept thee forth, and whirled from field to field, And dashed thee where a roar of festal sound Shook brazenly doffed helm and resting shield, And flung thee in a cup that pa.s.sed around To one who drank it deep in bridal mirth-- And thou wert born a daughter of the earth.

"From year to year life's pleasures round thee played, And fell behind the question of thine eyes That searched the mysteries of leafy shade, And the blue heron sailing in the skies Cutting the silence with the rusty blade His voice, and sought to spy the subtile might That killed your gathered iris in a night.

"Ah, soon I saw sweet longing on thy face, And love's compelling poppy on thy mouth, And watched thee robe thy maiden blossoming grace And dream a king came riding from the south; Yet in thy sigh in Eochaidh's royal place, Unseen I saw the waft of hidden wings Set past these perishing substantial things.

"For thou wert born for love whose windless sail Moves on great deeps beyond life's shallow range.

Love linked in flesh with failing flesh shall fail: Love knit in thought with changing thought shall change, Nor all desire against slow Time prevail; For that old worm all dreams shall gnaw and rend, And love that finds an end--itself shall end.

"Oh! not for thee the little irking chain That frets the bark on life's expanding bole; Nor love that maketh free, though it contain All earth's white loves and thee supreme and sole Beloved beneath all heaven; for who shall gain, Since between love and love most subtly mixed Untrodden silence stands forever fixed?

"My love would brood upon the holy thing Within thine inmost being folded far, Till it at length come forth on perfect wing To brush with sweet eclipse the morning star, And in high heaven its utter rapture sing, Filling the universe with golden sound Of love immortal, measureless, unbound!

"How shall immortal love find mortal bliss, Or measureless be bound in narrow speech, Or free and forge the bondage of a kiss?

Nay, but its end is ever out of reach, Its life, of fairer life the chrysalis; And all its days, desirable and fleet, But prints of unseen Beauty's pa.s.sing feet.

"Ah! Love is thine whose all-transfusing sun Burns out the mystery of life and death; And all thine hours but blossom unto one That us in utter bondage compa.s.seth.

Now to that timeless hour Time's footsteps run To rear our throne, whose foot shall never know The chafe of life's eternal ebb and flow.

"And he whose heart long time was scarred and swept By hungering winds that robbed him of repose, Wrapt in deep joy, beyond his joy has slept Into a pa.s.sionless calm, that wakes and knows Love's highest bliss in honour stainless kept.

Farewell, and when a little while has flown I come again." He ceased. She stood alone.

Far through the morn the horn of Eochaidh blew, Outspeeding runners hot with glad return.

From post to post goes welcoming halloo: Far off the shouldered spear-heads dance and burn Through smother of wheels, and marching men that strew Their wake with dust and song, and storm at last Round dun and liss, their prosperous journey past.

And all that day go question and reply, Twin bodkins looping up the stuff of life: And all that dusk, warm cheek and glancing eye Blow up love's ruddy peat in man and wife: And all that night, harps throb and warpipes cry Around the king, enthroned in joy complete, Etain beside him, Ailill at his feet.

But through the songs of praise that round him swell, One voice to him has music sweeter far.

Close to his heart she now the tale doth tell Of duty done, and love escaped a scar;-- But not of that deep hour, unspeakable With visitation from beyond the world, Shut in her heart, a blossom closely curled.

On Eochaidh's royal brow sits glad content That she, fate's minister to Ailill's pain, Who dared in faith the perilous descent, Now stands more white against averted stain.

And Ailill, all his heart in service spent, Fills their glad hours with tender friendship's light Sweet as the beam that silvers quiet night.

VI

Now at life's wheel Etain the day-long sings; Not loud, but low as one who musing waits An hour, whose promise in her deep eye springs In keen transfiguring light that contemplates The mystery of small, familiar things Made great with gleams from past the verge of sight, And strange with rumours of the infinite.

In that bright realm glimpsed through the shade of this She sees great peace resolve earth's little strife; And deepening vision sounds a deeper bliss, Till joy rolls round the fretted sh.o.r.es of life; And in swift stroke of hate, and love's long kiss, She marks one law work out one hidden Will, And life and death one happy doom fulfil.

So pa.s.s her days in labour sped with peace.

And now the king, heart-eased in her repose, Gathers warm love about him like a fleece; And through the land his joy wide-circling goes, Stirring swift hands that bid the earth increase Her gift of good, till wealth and fatness throng Their duns with praise, and fill their mouths with song.

Life's labour widely shared the lightlier lies Along the days; and when its tumults cease, Free brain and limb are swift in rivalries Upon the bloodless battlefields of peace In thought's affray, or deed of strength whose prize Scarce more adorneth him whose power prevails, Than him who strongly dares and greatly fails.

And in long nights, when age and childhood sleep, Bright eyes that flicker round the rushlit board Mark how the chess-players, in silence deep, Meet skill with skill, until delight is roared At cunning scheme, or swift unreckoned leap: But, cute as fox or quick as tern awing, No hand is found to mate King Eochaidh's king.

Loudly his fame rolls through the echoing land; But in his dreams, in some high tourney met, He feels a strong inexorable hand Counter his craft with calm unwavering threat By an unseen far-seeing player planned, That haunts his thoughts with hint of some deep strife Waged vastly on the board of death and life.

Then from his couch, with apprehensive eye, Forth goes the king for solace. Mile on mile His happy realms in dawn's pale radiance lie Secure in his great strength; so with a smile He tramples out the night's thin troubling cry, Then toward his palace turns, lo! at its door There stands a chieftain never seen before.

Straightly he stands, nor from his pride's full height Bends he from neck to knee one purple fold; Nor dips his spear, nor casts his shield whose light Glinting from snowy boss and bead of gold, Strikes from the king some memory of the night, So that his quickened eye is swift to trace A touch of challenge in the stranger's face.

"Welcome, O stranger! and doubly were thy name To me revealed." "Mider: to thee unknown.

No far-sung dun is mine, lineage or fame; Yet in my realm I keep a steadfast throne, And for my pleasure play a subtle game With p.a.w.n and puissant knight and watching queen.

Fame trumpets far thy skill: now be it seen."

On swift-set piece and jewelled chessboard break Slant arrows from the scarcely risen sun.

Rank faces rank. "Play, king!"... "Not without stake I play; nor bate the forfeit quickly won,-- Thine?" "Fifty steeds whose hooves shall Erin shake."