Ballads of Lost Haven Part 5

Ridden, he had plunged to rescue From that seething icy h.e.l.l Some poor sailor wrecked a-fis.h.i.+ng On the coast. What fears should quell

That high spirit? Knee to shoulder, King and stallion reared and sprang Clear above the long white combers And that turmoil's iron clang.

What a launching! For a moment, While the tempest held its breath And a thousand eyes looked wonder, Swimming in that trough of death,

Steering seaward through the welter, Ere they settled out of sight, Waved above them one gold streamer.

Valor, bid the world good-night!...

Not a trace, while the long summers Warm the heart of Brittany, Save one stone of Ys, as remnant, For a white mark in the sea.

THE KELPIE RIDERS

I

Buried alive in calm Roch.e.l.le, Six in a row by a crystal well,

All Summer long on Bareau Fen Slumber and sleep the Kelpie men;

By the side of each to cheer his ghost, A flagon of foam with a crumpet of frost.

Hear me, friends, for the years are fleet; Soon I leave the noise and the street

For the silent uncompanioned way Where the inn is cold and the night is gray.

But noon is warm and the world is still Where the Kelpie riders have their will.

For never a wind dare stir or stray Over those marshes salt and gray;

No bit of shade as big as your hand To traverse or trammel the sleeping land,

Save where a dozen poplars fleck The long gray gra.s.s and the well's blue beck.

Yet you mark their leaves are blanched and sear, Whispering daft at a nameless fear.

While round the hole of one is a rune, Black in the wash of the bleaching noon.

"Ride, for the wind is awake and away.

Sleep, for the harvest grain is gray."

No word more. And many a mile, A ghostly bivouac rank and file,

They sleep to-day on the marshes wide; Some far night they will wake and ride.

Once they were riders hot with speed, "Kelpie, Kelpie, gallop at need!"

With hills of the barren sea to roam, Housing their horses on the foam.

But earth is cool and the hush is long Beneath the lull of the slumber song

The crickets falter and strive to tell To the dragon-fly of the crystal well;

And love is a forgotten jest, Where the Kelpie riders take their rest,

And blossoming gra.s.ses hour by hour Burn in the bud and freeze in the flower.

But never again shall their roving be On the s.h.i.+fting hills of the tumbling sea,

With the salt, and the rain, and the glad desire Strong as the wind and pure as fire.

II

One doomful night in the April tide With riot of brooks on the mountain side,

The goblin maidens of the hills Went forth to the revel-call of the rills.

Many as leaves of the falling year, To the swing of a ballad wild and clear

They held the plain and the uplands high; And the merry-dancers held the sky.

The Kelpie riders abroad on the sea Caught sound of that call of eerie glee,

Over their prairie waste and wan; And the goblin maidens tolled them on.

The yellow eyes and the raven hair And the tawny arms blown fresh and bare,

Were more than a mortal might behold And live with the saints for a crown of gold.

The Kelpie riders were stricken sore; They wavered, and wheeled, and rode for the sh.o.r.e.

"Kelpie, Kelpie, treble your stride!

Never again on the sea we ride.

"Kelpie, Kelpie, out of the storm; On, for the fields of earth are warm!"

Knee to knee they are riding in: "Brother, brother,--the goblin kin!"

The meadows rocked as they clomb the scaur; The pines re-echo for evermore

The sound of the host of Kelpie men; But the windflowers died on Bareau Fen.

Over the marshes all night long The stars went round to a riding song:

"Kelpie, Kelpie, carry us through!"

And the goblin maidens danced thereto.