Fragments of Ancient Poetry Part 5

Give me thy daughter, Conar, says Durstan; or fear and feel my power.

He who dares attempt my sister, says Connan, must meet this edge of steel.

Unerring in battle is my arm: my sword, as the lightning of heaven.

Ronnan the warriour came; and much he threatened Durstan.

But, saith Euran the servant of gold, Ronnan! by the gate of the north shall Durstan this night carry thy fair-one away. Accursed, answers Ronnan, be this arm if death meet him not there.

Connan! saith Euran, this night shall the stranger carry thy sister away.

My sword shall meet him, replies Connan, and he shall lie low on earth.

The friends met by night, and they fought. Blood and sweat ran down their limbs as water on the mossy rock.

Connan falls; and cries, O Durstan, be favourable to Rivine!--And is it my friend, cries Ronnan, I have slain? O Connan! I knew thee not.

He went, and he fought with Durstan.

Day began to rise on the combat, when fainting they fell, and expired.

Rivine came out with the morn; and--O what detains my Ronnan!

--She saw him lying pale in his blood; and her brother lying pale by his side.

What could she say: what could she do? her complaints were many and vain.

She opened this grave for the warriours; and fell into it herself, before it was closed; like the sun s.n.a.t.c.hed away in a storm.

Thou hast heard this tale of grief, O fair daughter of the isles! Rivine was fair as thyself: shed on her grave a tear.

X

It is night; and I am alone, forlorn on the hill of storms. The wind is heard in the mountain. The torrent shrieks down the rock. No hut receives me from the rain; forlorn on the hill of winds.

Rise, moon! from behind thy clouds; stars of the night, appear!

Lead me, some light, to the place where my love rests from the toil of the chase!

his bow near him, unstrung; his dogs panting around him. But here I must sit alone, by the rock of the mossy stream. The stream and the wind roar; nor can I hear the voice of my love.

Why delayeth my Shalgar, why the son of the hill, his promise? Here is the rock; and the tree; and here the roaring stream. Thou promisedst with night to be here. Ah! whither is my Shalgar gone? With thee I would fly my father; with thee, my brother of pride. Our race have long been foes; but we are not foes, O Shalgar!

Cease a little while, O wind! stream, be thou silent a while! let my voice be heard over the heath; let my wanderer hear me. Shalgar! it is I who call. Here is the tree, and the rock. Shalgar, my love! I am here. Why delayest thou thy coming? Alas! no answer.

Lo! the moon appeareth. The flood is bright in the vale. The rocks are grey on the face of the hill. But I see him not on the brow; his dogs before him tell not that he is coming.

Here I must sit alone.

But who are these that lie beyond me on the heath? Are they my love and my brother?--Speak to me, O my friends! they answer not. My soul is tormented with fears.--Ah! they are dead. Their swords are red from the fight. O my brother! my brother!

why hast thou slain my Shalgar? why, O Shalgar! hast thou slain my brother?

Dear were ye both to me! speak to me; hear my voice, sons of my love! But alas! they are silent; silent for ever!

Cold are their breast of clay!

Oh! from the rock of the hill; from the top of the mountain of winds, speak ye ghosts of the dead! speak, and I will not be afraid.--Whither are ye gone to rest? In what cave of the hill shall I find you?

I sit in my grief. I wait for morning in my tears. Rear the tomb, ye friends of the dead; but close it not till I come. My life flieth away like a dream: why should I stay behind?

Here shall I rest with my friends by the stream of the founding rock. When night comes on the hill: when the wind is up on the heath; my ghost shall stand in the wind, and mourn the death of my friends. The hunter shall hear from his booth. He shall fear, but love my voice. For sweet shall my voice be for my friends; for pleasant were they both to me.

XI

Sad! I am sad indeed: nor small my cause of woe!--Kirmor, thou hast lost no son; thou hast lost no daughter of beauty. Connar the valiant lives; and Annir the fairest of maids. The boughs of thy family flourish, O Kirmor!

but Armyn is the last of his race.

Rise, winds of autumn, rise; blow upon the dark heath! streams of the mountains, roar! howl, ye tempests, in the trees! walk through broken clouds, O moon! show by intervals thy pale face! bring to my mind that sad night, when all my children fell; when Arindel the mighty fell; when Daura the lovely died.

Daura, my daughter! thou wert fair; fair as the moon on the hills of Jura; white as the driven snow; sweet as the breathing gale. Armor renowned in war came, and fought Daura's love; he was not long denied; fair was the hope of their friends.

Earch son of Odgal repined; for his brother was slain by Armor. He came disguised like a son of the sea: fair was his skiff on the wave; white his locks of age; calm his serious brow.

Fairest of women, he said, lovely daughter of Armyn! a rock not distant in the sea, bears a tree on its side; red s.h.i.+nes the fruit afar. There Armor waiteth for Daura. I came to fetch his love. Come, fair daughter of Armyn!

She went; and she called on Armor.

Nought answered, but the son of the rock. Armor, my love! my love!

why tormentest thou me with fear?

come, graceful son of Arduart, come; it is Daura who calleth thee!--Earch the traitor fled laughing to the land.

She lifted up her voice, and cried for her brother and her father. Arindel!

Armyn! none to relieve your Daura?

Her voice came over the sea. Arindel my son descended from the hill; rough in the spoils of the chace. His arrows rattled by his side; his bow was in his hand; five grey dogs attended his steps. He saw fierce Earch on the sh.o.r.e; he seized and bound him to an oak. Thick fly the thongs of the hide around his limbs; he loads the wind with his groans.

Arindel ascends the surgy deep in his boat, to bring Daura to the land.

Armor came in his wrath, and let fly the grey-feathered shaft. It sung; it sunk in thy heart, O Arindel my son!

for Earch the traitor thou diedst. What is thy grief, O Daura, when round thy feet is poured thy brother's blood!

The boat is broken in twain by the waves. Armor plunges into the sea, to rescue his Daura or die. Sudden a blast from the hill comes over the waves.

He sunk, and he rose no more.

Alone, on the sea-beat rock, my daughter was heard to complain. Frequent and loud were her cries; nor could her father relieve her. All night I stood on the sh.o.r.e. All night I heard her cries. Loud was the wind; and the rain beat hard on the side of the mountain. Before morning appeared, her voice was weak. It died away, like the evening-breeze among the gra.s.s of the rocks. Spent with grief she expired.

O lay me soon by her side.

When the storms of the mountain come; when the north lifts the waves on high; I sit by the sounding sh.o.r.e, and look on the fatal rock. Often by the setting moon I see the ghosts of my children. Indistinct, they walk in mournful conference together. Will none of you speak to me?--But they do not regard their father.

XII

RYNO, ALPIN.

RYNO

The wind and the rain are over: calm is the noon of day. The clouds are divided in heaven. Over the green hills flies the inconstant sun.

Red through the stony vale comes down the stream of the hill. Sweet are thy murmurs, O stream! but more sweet is the voice I hear. It is the voice of Alpin the son of the song, mourning for the dead. Bent is his head of age, and red his tearful eye. Alpin, thou son of the song, why alone on the silent hill? why complainest thou, as a blast in the wood; as a wave on the lonely sh.o.r.e?

ALPIN.