DEC 8 1900 
 DEIRDRE WED 
 
 THE ROCK OF CLOUD 
 
 SHE COMES NOT WHEN THE NOON 
 IS ON THE ROSES 
 
 BY 
 
 HERBERT TRENCH 
 
 NEW YORK 
 THE MERSHON COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
DEIRDRE WED 
 
 * 
 
 THE ROCK OF CLOUD 
 SHE COMES NOT WHEN THE NOON 
 IS ON THE ROSES 
 
 BY y 
 
 HERBERT TRENCH 
 
 NEW YORK 
 THE MERSHON COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
 \ 
 
86012 
 
 L)bf«ry of Congress 
 
 Iwu Copies Received 
 DEC 8 1900 
 
 Copyrigtlt entry 
 
 SECOND COPY 
 
 OefivBfofl to 
 OHOtK DIVISION 
 
 DEC 22 1900 
 
 TR 
 
 -^^ 
 
 
 Copyright, iqoo, 
 
 BY 
 HERBERT TRENCH. 
 

 ^ DEIRDRE WED. 
 
 / stood on the hill of Time, when the sun zms fled 
 And my vision sought where to rest till it knezi; the 
 
 plains 
 Of my country, the Night's harp, and the moonless bed 
 Of rivers and bristling forests and sea-board chains. 
 
 And from many a chanter's mound {none is nameless 
 
 there) 
 Could I hear, amid rumour eternal, the voiceascend: 
 With the bones of man endureth his boating hair, 
 And the song of his spirit on earth is slow to end. 
 
 Speak to me, speak to me, Fintan, dark in the south; 
 Urmacl, lying in the zvest; and thou, Cir, under the 
 
 pole; 
 Some chant that ye made, who never spake mouth to 
 
 mouth, 
 But over the ridge of ages from said to soul. 
 
 And a strain came out of Dun Tulcha, the yezi;s' shores. 
 From Fintan, the elder than yezt^s, the too old for tears, 
 " Let us tell him of Dcirdre zved; that his heart's doors 
 Resound, as when kings arrive, with the trees of 
 I spears." 
 
VOICE OF FINTAN. 
 
 It was the night of marriage. Word had passed, 
 Tokens been sent to every rath and ring 
 And every fastness on the woody knolls 
 Green about Eman, of the slaughter made 
 Of sheep and boar, of badger and of stag, 
 Reddening the ways up to the kingly house — 
 Of sheep and goats and of the stintless food 
 That should be poured out to his beggary 
 By Connachar, that all time should remember 
 The night he wed the woman Gelban found. 
 Yonside of Assaroe the swineherd found her, 
 Bred in a peaty hillock of the west 
 By one old hag. Though tribeless she and wnld — 
 Barefoot, and in the red wool chasing cattle, 
 Connachar saw and took, biding his time, 
 A.nd let queens give her skill the winter long 
 In webs and brews and dyes and broideries. 
 Up to this night of marriage. Fabulous, 
 O friends, and dark, and mighty, was his house, 
 The beam-work in its dome of forest-trunks — 
 They that had been the chantries of the dawn. 
 And blackened songless for a thousand years — - 
 But never since they swayed leaf in the glens 
 Had those spars felt below so fierce a breath 
 
DEIRDRE WED. 3 
 
 Rich with the vapour of the boar. For now 
 Hundreds with ruddy-ghstering faces ran 
 Jostling round the nine shadow^s of the blaze, 
 And spread with skins the lengthy beds of men 
 xA.nd soused warm spice of herbs in ale. Here, thither, 
 Was rousing of age-slumbered horns, arranging 
 Smooth benches through the house, strawing of rushes; 
 And cauldrons seethed before the empty throne, 
 Set high in the shadow of the wall — still bubbling 
 Inaudible, impatient for the king. 
 
 And while outside the black roof on the mount 
 
 Outwafted was the gold divinity 
 
 With swooning wings, the Lake of Pearls below 
 
 Was curdling with the unseen seed of rain. 
 
 And on the hillside, where the rampart-line 
 
 Dips lowest to the lakew^ard, Deirdre stood, 
 
 Hearing from distant ridges the faint bleat 
 
 Of lambs perturb the dusk, bleats shivering out 
 
 I ike wool from thorns; there the young Deirdre stood, 
 
 Even she whose lingering beauty pales the world. 
 
 Looking far off on hills whence she was come. 
 
 Mountains, tha.t lift the holiness of fire, 
 
 Fortitudes, ye that bear the brunt of fate, 
 
 Send her across the bog a little cloud 
 
 Full of the ancient savours, full of peace. 
 
 And for its drops she will hold up her heart, 
 
 O ye that stand in heaven, far removed ! 
 
 She spoke aloud. Wherefore vv^ere greens so bare 
 That but an hour asfo shook with the tread 
 
4 DEIRDRE WED. 
 
 Of racers and of hiirlers? Vv^as it late? 
 
 The wrinkled nurse replied: Had the child eyes? 
 
 Back from a hosting and a desperate prey 
 
 Of corn and mares and rustless brass and beeves 
 
 Naois and rest of Usnach's sons 
 
 Were come. She had seen him weary go but now 
 
 Heavily up the steep through the king's hedge. 
 
 Now on the hill-top as the woman spoke, 
 
 It was so. Hanging on the young, man's lips 
 
 The hosts swayed round him; and, above the hosts, 
 
 Connachar, glittering all in torques of gold 
 
 And writhen armlets, listened from the mound 
 
 Of judgment, by the great oak at his door. 
 
 His beaked helm took the sunset, but he held 
 
 His flint-red eyes in shadow and averse. 
 
 And when before him, dark as a yoiung pine, 
 
 Unmoved the son of Usnach had told all : 
 
 How half his folk had perished in the task 
 
 By plagu.e or battle, yet how scant a spoil 
 
 Was driven home, the king cried, Paragon ! 
 
 We must go griddle cakes in honey for him, 
 
 Bring lavers of pale gold to wash ofif blood 
 
 So precious to us. Since for many moons 
 
 This chamipion had foregone the face of softness, 
 
 And stretched his hungers to the sleety rock, 
 
 Call in the smile of women to unlatch 
 
 From his doughty ribs the iron: Faugh! Away! 
 
 Let Usnach 's sons take out again that night 
 
 Their sorry clans, their piteous cattle thence: 
 
 Defeated men should see his gates no more. 
 
DEIRDRE WED. 5 ] 
 
 And the son of Usnach turned and went. He ran ; 
 
 Downhill and to the loch to wash his wounds. , i 
 
 Chanting he strode, tossing a brace of spears ] 
 
 Lest we should think him humbled. Halfway down •! 
 
 The shapes of women loitered in the dusk i 
 
 And one held backward out her arms to take ; 
 
 The latchets of a cloak. But as Naois \ 
 Passed by them, nearly as is heard a sigh, 
 
 Still with his vehement mood set on the flood ,; 
 Glancing not right nor left, O then I saw, . ] 
 
 I saw the stiff cloak many-coloured sink J 
 
 Slow to the grass, v/rinkling its blazoned skins I 
 
 Behind her. Gloom sucked in the banqueters. ! 
 
 And in the warmth of drinking at his feast \ 
 
 Connachar sent forth to the women's house j 
 And heralds bade bring also the gray seer 
 
 Cathva, though Cathva had not willed to come. i 
 
 Hardly had hotfoot messengers gone out '< 
 
 When the door-hide rose, and the gray seer came in, '! 
 
 NoiseSess. He was of fog the night hath spun, ■ 
 
 Earth in his hair and on his meagre cheek, \ 
 
 Consumed and shaking, ragged as seaweed, \ 
 
 And to the throne he cried : " Why hast thou called ] 
 
 Me to carousal ? Is this bed mv work? i 
 
 Too great a clearness underneath the thunder | 
 Shewed insupportably the things to be: 
 
 Too long have I with glamours, drops, and runes, ! 
 Shook round her cabin low my skirts of storm, 
 
 To shield thee from that devastating face. 1 
 
 My fault is only that I slev/ her not. J 
 
 Know ! it was I, that, seeing her cradled limbs | 
 
6 DEIRDRE WED, 
 
 Bright with disaster for the reahiis and thee, 
 
 Flung her away among the utmost mountains. 
 
 But Muilrea to Ben Gorm said: ' What is this? 
 
 What glee is this disturbs our desolation ? 
 
 I hear another than the wild duck sheering 
 
 Sidelong the wind. Tall as a rush is she, 
 
 And whiter than the foam that stripes the lakes.' 
 
 And Domnhan answered : ' We are sick alone, 
 
 Let us distil the heavens into a child; 
 
 Yea, let our bones appear, the black goat starve 
 
 Upon our heads, yet shall this human seed 
 
 Superabound with soft life we forego. 
 
 Silence shall come to heart, silver of mists, 
 
 And the blue depth of gorges.' Connachar, 
 
 T heard the plotters, but I let her live." 
 
 And the king asked: " Hath any seen her there? " 
 
 And Cathva answered, *' Till thy servant found her 
 
 She knew not that men were." Then Connachar 
 
 Commanded yet again: " Bring us in Deirdre." 
 
 StraighL\\'ay we saw a woman, bent and old, 
 
 With large and innocent and childlike eyes. 
 
 Stand up beyond the fire. Her fingers played 
 
 Ceaselessly with a red stone at her breast. He asked 
 
 " Who gave thee, hag, the jewel at thy neck? " 
 
 Now every drinker from the darkest stalls 
 
 Perceived the brooch was Deirdre's, and a gift 
 
 "l\) her from Connachar. Aghast, the v/oman 
 
 Fumbled at her sere breast, and wept and said : 
 
 " It was a gift to me, O Connachar, 
 
 This night." And he, consummate lord of fear, . 
 
 Our never-counselled lord, the forest-odoured, 
 
DEIRDRE WED. 7 
 
 Smiled, though within the gateway of his fort, 
 
 A surmise, hke the stabber 'neath a load 
 
 Of rushes, crept. " Fix up the pin, Levarcham, 
 
 For she that loses such a brooch will grieve. 
 
 Why comes not Deirdre? " '' Sir, she is not yet 
 
 Fully arrayed, and so is loth to come." 
 
 O, then believe me, all the floor was hush, 
 
 But a mad discordancy like fifes, drums, brasses, 
 
 Bondmen of old wars on the wind set free, 
 
 Shook every beam and pillar of the house. 
 
 And the king said — '' Thou hear'st out of the marsh 
 
 Scream of my stallions mounting on the gale? " 
 
 And she said, '' Yea." " Thou knowest round these 
 
 walls 
 How many chariots now are tilted up ? " 
 And she said, '' Yea." " Then, woman, bring with 
 
 haste 
 Deirdre, thy charge, into this presence now. 
 Or limb from limb upon the pleasant grass 
 Those wheels shall parcel thee at dawn." And she 
 Lifted her hands and closed her eyes and sang, 
 " She will come back, but I, I shall not bring her ! 
 O rainbow breathed into the dreadful pine, 
 Why art thou gone from me? Sweeter to me 
 Than the sobbing of the cuckoo to the shore. 
 Why art thou gone from me? " She bowed and v/ept. 
 And Connachar came from the throne and grasping. 
 As if he felt no heat, the cauldron's brims, 
 Leaned, through its steams watching the nurse, and 
 
 said : 
 " Will these marrow-melting tears bring Deirdre in? " 
 
8 DEIRDRE WED. 
 
 But she looked up and said: '' How shall I bring her? 
 
 Look now outside thy door, O Connachar; 
 
 The strong oak with the vision-dripping boughs, 
 
 Whose foot is on thy fathers' neck of pride. 
 
 Staggered as I came up in the night blast. 
 
 In vain it shakes its anger at the sky. 
 
 It cannot keep the white moon from escape 
 
 To sail the tempest; nor, O king, canst thou." 
 
 And the face of him that listened grew thrice pale 
 
 And his thick nostrils swelled, his half-closed eyes 
 
 Fanged fire, and slow dilated. Stubbornly 
 
 He clutched to steady his convulsive frame 
 
 The sea-full cauldron; quick with efforts vast 
 
 Upheaved and swung and pillared it on high. 
 
 And hoarsely bade, " Take torches." Every man 
 
 Kindled in silence at the hearth divine. 
 
 Then Connachar poured out upon the blaze 
 
 The flood within the vat. The roofs were filled 
 
 With darkness and with hissings and with smoke. . . 
 
VOICE OF cm. 
 
 As a horseman bursts on a gulf between high dawn- 
 vapoured woods 
 And strands of sea-wrack, where out on the ebbed brim, 
 Walking on cloud and azure, stretch multitudes 
 Of the flame- white people of gulls to the sky-line dim, 
 
 All breast to the sun, — and his hoofs expand the deso- 
 late strait 
 Into fevers of snows and endlessly-wandering cries. 
 Even so, chanters divine, in some woman's fate 
 At coming of him to be ioved do her dreams arise. 
 
 But Deirdre, the exquisite virgin, pale as the coat of 
 
 swans, 
 Took the flame of love in her heart at the time of dew 
 And clad her in ancient wool from a coffer of bronze 
 And walked in the chill of night, for her soul was new. 
 
 Why thick with the berries of sweetness, ye barren 
 
 thorns of the sprmg, 
 I could drink up this tempest cold as a burning wine. 
 Why laugh, my grief, for art thou not bride of a king. 
 And the drinkers drink to a couch arrayed to be thine ? 
 
lo DEIRDRE WED. 
 
 I 
 And she laid on the house Bron Bhearg, the warriors' 
 
 hive of stones, 
 Where the wounded toss without sleep, her cheek to 
 
 the wall, 
 And bless'd them by stealth, with no pang at the sound 
 
 of their groans, j 
 
 Having that in her rich heart which could heal them 
 
 all. 
 
 To the fortress gate on the steep that looketh tow^ard 
 
 Creeve Roe 
 She fled and spied, not a sling-cast off, the flare 
 Of a torch, and the skull fixed over the gate. And lo, 
 To the right hand watchmen paced by the vvater there. 
 
 And the men of the guard, with a mock, laid spears in 
 
 their passage house 
 Athwart, for who was this phantom over the grass 
 Like a filcher of food? And Deirdre uncovered her 
 
 brows 
 And cried: " I am Deirdre! " And sullen they gave 
 
 her the pass. 
 
 And towards Creeve Roe the dip of the cuckoo's vale 
 
 was dark 
 To blindness. She phicked her steps on tliat miry road 
 Through copses alive with storm, tih at length a spark 
 Shewed the foro-e where the smith on the heroes' vv 
 
 abode. 
 
DEIRDRE WED. ii 
 
 Now Culann the smith was wise, and leaping her spirit 
 
 stirred 
 At the soft roar of his hide-winged fire as it soared : 
 ''Has the son of Usnach passed?" ''Yea, gone 
 
 back! " With the word 
 He smote on a tongue of iron to make him a sword. 
 
 And the argentine din of anvils behind her steadily 
 
 dwindling 
 The woman fled to the wastes, till she came to a thorn 
 Black, by the well of a God, with stars therein kindling 
 And over it rags fluttering from boughs forlorn. 
 
 And she knelt and shore with a knife a lock of her 
 
 deathless hair 
 And leashed the black-shuddering branch with that 
 
 tress and pray'd : 
 " Sloe-tree, thou snow of the darkness, O hear my 
 
 prayer, 
 And thou, black Depth, bubble-breather, vouchsafe 
 
 thine aid. 
 
 " From Connachar's eyes of love let me hide as a gray 
 
 mole : 
 Sons of the earth's profound, put a shade over me. 
 I have looked on a face and its kindness ravish'd my 
 
 soul. 
 But deliverance passed, I turn for escape unto ye." 
 
 And loud as the sloven starlings in winter whistle and 
 
 swarm 
 Came the remnant of Usnach nigh, thrice fifty strong. 
 
12 DEIRDRE WED. 
 
 As they drove from Eman away on that night of 
 
 storm 
 And Naois spoke with his brothers behind the throng — 
 
 ''O Aillen, O Ardan, hark! What cry was that? 
 
 For some cry 
 Rang on my soul's shield; hark! hear ye it now? " 
 But they reined not their weary chariots, shouting 
 
 reply, 
 " It was fate, 'twas the curst hag that lies crouched on 
 
 a bough." 
 
 Tossing they drove out of sight, Naois the last, and his j 
 
 hood, I 
 
 Rain-dripping, mantled the wind. One ran like a roe 
 
 And called on that great name from the night-bound \ 
 
 vv'c^od, I 
 
 " Leave me not, it is with thee tliat my heart would \ 
 
 go!" ' 
 
 And his brothers cried, " Halt not, the host of the air 
 
 makes moan. 
 Or a gang of the wild geese going back to the lake " ; 
 But Naois reared up the deep-ribbed Sron, " Good 
 
 Sron, 
 Thou and I needs must turn for our fame's sake." 
 
 And he heard a voice: " Son of Usnach, take me to be 
 
 thy wife!" 
 He bent from the withers, the blaze of her trembling 
 
 drew 
 
 ( 
 
DEIRDRE WED. 13 
 
 The breath from his Hps, and the beat from his heart's 
 
 life, 
 And he said, '' Who art thou, Queen? " But himself 
 
 knew, 
 
 And muttered, '' Return, return, unto him that I hate. 
 
 For know 
 Him least of all I rob, least of all that live." 
 But she cried : '* Am I then a colt, that ye snare from a 
 
 foe 
 With a bridle's shaking? I am mine own to give." 
 
 '' Thy beauty would crumble away in the spate of my 
 
 wild nights, 
 And famine rake out thine embers, the lean paw 
 Of jeopardy find thee; he is not rich in delights 
 Whose harp, like mine, is the fell in the winter's flaw." 
 
 And she laid her arm round the neck of Sron : '' Hast 
 
 heard 
 Horse swollen-veined from battle, insulter of death, 
 Whose back is only a perch for the desert bird, 
 Whose fore-hooves fight, whose passage is torn with 
 
 teeth; 
 
 " And dost thou not shudder ofif the knees of a master 
 
 deaf 
 To the grief of the weak ? " And the lad, deeply moved, 
 
 rejoins ; 
 " Mount then, O woman, behind me," — and light as a 
 
 leaf, 
 Drawing her up from his foot to the smoking loins. 
 
 r^ 
 
14 DEIRDRE WED. 
 
 Shook loose the ox-hide bridle. Even as the great gull 
 
 dives 
 From Muilrea's moon-glittering peak, when the sky is 
 
 bare, 
 Scraped naked by nine days' wind, and sweepingly 
 
 drives 
 Over night-blurred gulfs and the long glens of the air. 
 
 And feels up-tossing his breast an exhaustless breath 
 
 bear on 
 Spouted from isleless ocean to aid his flight, 
 So fiercely, so steadily galloped the mighty Sron, 
 Braced by that double burden to more delight. 
 
 Though his mane wrapped a wounded bridle-hand, 
 
 fast, fast, 
 As giddy foam-weltering waters dashed by the hoof 
 Flee away from the weirs of Callan, even so passed 
 Dark plains away to the world's edge, behind and aloof. 
 
 And the rider stooped and whispered amidst the thun- 
 der of weirs 
 
 Such sweetness of praise to his horse in the swirl of the 
 flood 
 
 That Sron twitched back for an instant his mooned 
 ears 
 
 Strain'd forth like a hare's, and his haunches up to the 
 wood 
 
 Wrested them. Beaks of magic, the wreckage of time, 
 
 came out 
 And talon'd things of the forest would waft and sway, 
 
I 
 
 DEIRDRE WED. 15 
 
 But Naois raised in his gallop a battle shout 
 
 That scattered the thrilling wreath of his fears away. 
 
 So they measured the Plain of the Dreamers, the^ 
 
 Brake of the Black Ram, 
 Till the Crag of the Dances before them did lift and 
 
 loom, 
 And the Meads of the Faery Hurlers in silver swam, 
 Then up to the Gap of the Winds, and the far-seen tomb 
 
 White on Slieve Fuad's side; by many a marchland 
 
 old 
 And cairn of princes — yea, to mine own bedside — 
 They adventured. Think ye, sweet bards, that I could 
 
 lie cold 
 When my chamber of rock fore-knew that impassion'd 
 
 stride? 
 
 Had I, too, not plucked the webs of rain-sweet drops 
 
 from the harp 
 And torn from its wave of chords an imperishable love 
 To sleep on this breast ? Here, through the mountain 
 
 sharp, 
 My grave-chamber tunnel'd is; and one door from 
 
 above 
 
 Westward surveys green territories, gentle with flowers 
 
 and charm, 
 But forth from the eastern face of the ridge is un- 
 
 quelled 
 
1 6 DEIRDRE WED. 
 
 Wilderness, besown with boulders and the grass of 
 harm. 
 
 And even in my trance could I feel those riders ap- 
 proach and beheld 
 
 Naois assault the ridge, to the wilderness setting his 
 
 face 
 Expectant, unconscious, as one whom his foes arouse. 
 His heart was a forge, his onset enkindled space. 
 He shook off the gusty leagues like locks from his 
 
 brow^s. 
 
 What should he reck oi Earth save that under his 
 
 wounds he felt 
 Stolen round him, as dreamy water steals round a 
 
 shore, 
 A girdle, the arms of Deirdre, clasp'd for a belt 
 That terror of great kings should unlock no more ? 
 
 I was caught from the grave's high gate as that spume- 
 flaked ecstasy drew 
 
 Upward, and winged like the kiss of Aengus, strove 
 
 For utterance to greet them, encircling their heads that 
 flew; 
 
 But who loops the whirlwind's foot or outdreameth 
 love ? 
 
 He wheel'd round Sron on the crest. Abrupt he flung 
 
 back a hand 
 And spoke, " Dost thou know the truth ? look where 
 
 night is low; 
 
DEIRDRE WED. 17 
 
 Soon the ants of that mound shall shake the ledge 
 
 where we stand; 
 Now the tribes are summoned, the Night prepares his 
 
 blow, 
 
 *' His wrath spurts, hot from the trumpet — the main 
 
 beacon flares. 
 Now tackle the arrogant chariots — dogs in their glee 
 Hang on the leash-slaves, numb in the cockcrow airs : 
 Why, out of all that host, hast thou singled me? " 
 
 I heard her behind him breathe : " Because out of all 
 
 that host 
 Aptest art thou in feats, held in honor more 
 Than any save bright Cuchullain." He turned as one 
 
 lost: 
 ''Is tliis time a time to mock? Are there not four 
 
 score 
 
 '' Better at feats than I, my masters, the noble teams 
 The attemper'd knights of the Red Branch everyone ? 
 Nay, though I knead up the whole earth in my dreams, 
 Nought to such men am I, who have nothing done." 
 
 1 I heard the blowings of Sron, and then lasting words : 
 
 '' I choose 
 Thee — wherefore? Ah, how interpret? To-day on 
 
 the slope 
 Running down to the reeds I saw thee at gloam of 
 
 dews, 
 And knew it was fated. It was not some leaf of hope 
 
1 8 DEIRDRE WED. 
 
 " Uncertain. Thou wast the token — half of the potter's 
 
 shard 
 That a chief beleaguered cons in his desperate camp, 
 Passed in by some hand unseen to the outmost guard, 
 And fits to the other half by his wasted lamp. 
 
 " Seeing thee, I knew myself to be shapen of the self- 
 same clay — 
 
 Half of the symbol; and broken, mayhap, to serve 
 
 As language to them of the night from powers of the 
 day." 
 
 By the path of the throbbing Curlew no foot may 
 swerve 
 
 Where they rode through the Gap; and at last she mur- 
 mured, " Dost grieve at me still? " 
 
 And he said, *' Glorious is it to me that behind us pur- 
 suit 
 
 Shall be wide as the red of the morning; for thou art 
 my will ; 
 
 To the beach of the world of the dead and beyond it to 
 boot 
 
 '' Let me take and defend thee." In silence the hearts 
 
 of the twain were screen'd, 
 But crossing the mires and the torrents I saw strange 
 
 ease 
 Afloat, like a spark, on the wom.an's eyes as she lean'd 
 Forth, and a shadow betwixt her lips like peace. 
 
VOICE OF URMAEL. 
 
 The slender hazels asked the Yew like night 
 
 Beside the river-green of Lisnacaun : 
 " Who is this woman, beautiful as light, 
 
 Sitting in dolour on thy branched lawn, 
 With sun-red hair entangled as with flight 
 
 Sheening the knees up to her bosom drawn ? 
 Wliat miry horses these so thirstily 
 Bellying the hush pool with their nostrils wide? " 
 And the Yew old as the long mountain side 
 Answered, '' I saw her hither with Clan Usnach ride." 
 
 " Come, love, and climb with me Findruim's woods 
 Alone," lie prayed; and up through broom and bent 
 
 Strown with swift-travelling shadows of their woods, 
 Leaving below the camp's thin cries, they went. 
 
 And never a tress escaping from her snoods 
 Made the brown river with a kiss content — 
 
 So safe he raised up Deirdre through the ford. 
 
 Thanks, piteous Gods, that no foreboding gave 
 
 He should so bear her after to the grave 
 
 Breasting the phantom ice, breasting the druid wave. 
 
 " O, bear me on," she breathed, " for ever so! " 
 And light as notes the Achill Shepherd plays 
 
 On his twin pipes, they wanton'd, light and slow, 
 Up the broad valley. Birds sail'd from the haze 
 
20 DEIRDRE WED. 
 
 Far up, where naked copses overgrow 
 
 Scarps of the white cHff from his river'd base. 
 Diaphaneity of earth and spirit 
 In those new-budded coombes did greenly reign, 
 And many a mountain's leaping flank was plain 
 Through branches fine, elixired every vein. 
 
 But when an upward space of grass — so free 
 
 And joyous — beckon'd to the realms of wind 
 Deirdre broke from his side, and airily 
 
 Fled up the slopes flinging her scoff behind; 
 And paused and round a little vivid tree 
 
 The wolf-skins from her neck began to bind. 
 Naois watch'd below this incantation 
 Then upward on his javelin's length he swung 
 To catch some old crone's ditty freshly sung, 
 Bidding that shoot be wise, for yet 'twas young. 
 
 With glance for glance, thus ever up and on 
 They paced, regardless of the world outrolled. 
 
 Their ears dinned by the breeze's clarion 
 
 That quicks the blood while yet the cheek is cold. 
 
 Great whitenesses rose past them — brooks ran down- 
 And step by stq^ Findruim bare and bold 
 
 Uplifted. So a swimmer is uplifted 
 
 Horsed on a streaming shoulder of the Sea, 
 
 Our yeasty master, who to such as we 
 
 Tosses some hour of glittering mastery. 
 
 On tliem out of the zenith swoop to sting 
 
 Feathery voices, keen and soft and light: 
 '' Mate ye as eagles mate, that on the iving 
 
DEIRDRE WED. 21 
 
 Grapple — heaven-high — hell-deep, for yours is 
 night. 
 Souls like the granite candles of a king 
 
 Flaming unshook amid the noise of night, 
 What of pursuit, that you to-day should fear it? " 
 Pursuit they reck'd not, save of wind that pours 
 Surging and urging on to other shores 
 Over the restless forest of a thousand doors. 
 
 *' Deirdre," he cried, " the blowing of thy hair 
 Is of the clouds that everlasting stream 
 
 Forth from dark castles of those islands rare 
 Black in the rugged-misted ocean's gleam 
 
 And glimpsed by Iceland galleys as they fare 
 Northward." But in her bosom's open seam 
 
 She set the powdered yew-sprig silently. 
 
 " Speak not of me nor give my beauty praise 
 
 Whose beauty is to follow in thy ways 
 
 So that my days be numbered with thy days." 
 
 In the high pastures of that boundless place 
 Their feet wist not if they should float or run; 
 
 They turned, at earth astonished face to face, 
 Deeming unearthly blessedness begun. 
 
 And slow, mid nests of running larks, they pace 
 To drink from the recesses of the sun 
 
 Tremble of those wings that beat light into music. 
 
 There the world's ends lay open : open wide 
 
 The body's windows. What shall them divide 
 
 Who have walked once that country side by side? 
 
2 2 DEIRDRE WED. 
 
 She mused, " O, why doth happiness too much 
 Fountains of blood and spirit seem to fill ? 
 
 The woods overflowing cannot bear that such 
 An hour should be so sweet and yet be still ; 
 
 Even the low-tangled bushes at a touch 
 Break into wars of luting thrill on thrill. 
 
 son of Usnach, bring me not thy glories ! 
 Bring me defeats and shames and secret woe, 
 That where no brother goeth I may go 
 
 And kneel to wash thy wounds in caverns chill and 
 low." 
 
 '' Here, up in sight of the woofVl shine of sea " 
 (He sang), " once after hunting, by the fire 
 
 1 knelt and kindling brushwood raised up thee, 
 
 Deirdre, nor wist the star of my desire 
 Should ever walk Findruim's head with me 
 
 Far from a king's loud house and soft attire. 
 Fain would I thatch us here a booth of hazels. 
 Thatch it with drift and snow of sea-gulls' wings. 
 And thy horn'd harp should w^onder to its strings, 
 ' What spoil is it to-night Naois brings ? ' 
 
 " But list," quoth he, when scarce those words were 
 gone 
 
 (A neck of the bare down it was, a ledge 
 Of wind-sleek turf, the lovers roam'd upon 
 
 And sent young rabbits scuttling to the edge 
 Of underwoods beneath), "' I think that yon 
 
 Some beast — haply a stag — takes harbourage." 
 And Deirdre, at a word come back from troublings 
 
 / 
 
DEIRDRE WED. 23 
 
 Of bliss too close to pain, plucked with no fear 
 Out of his hand the battle-painted spear 
 And, questing swiftly down the pasture sheer, 
 
 Enter'd the yew's black arch; thick and profound 
 The green-lit air, and there as seeking fresh 
 
 Enemies, one haunch pressed against the ground 
 The gray boar slewed, tusking the tender flesh 
 
 Of shoots, his ravage- whetted bulk around : 
 But when his ear across the straggling mesh 
 
 Of feathered sticks report of Deirdre found. 
 
 He lunged, he snorted; from his jaws like wine 
 
 Foam dripped; along the horror of his spine 
 
 The bristles grew up like a ridge of pine. 
 
 Mortals, the maiden deem.ed that guise a mask; 
 
 Believed that in that beast sate to ensnare 
 He of the red eye ; little need to ask 
 
 The druid- wrinkled hide, the sluttish hair. 
 1 his was to escape — how vain poor passion's task — 
 
 Connachar of the illimitable lair ! 
 He crash'd at her; she heaved the point embrowned 
 In blood of dragons. Heavily the Boar 
 Grazed by the iron, reel'd, leapt, charged once more. 
 And thrice in passage her frail vesture tore. 
 
 As when a herd-boy lying on the scar 
 
 (Who pipes to flocks below him on the steep 
 
 Melodies like their neckbells, wandering far. 
 Cool as the running water, soft as sleep) 
 
 Flings out a stone from peril to debar 
 
 And from the boulder'd chasm recall his sheep — 
 
24 DEIRDRE WED. 
 
 So with a knife Naois leapt and struck. 
 Strange ! in the very fury of a stride, 
 The grey beast, Hke a phantom from his side, 
 Scathelessly plunged to thickets undescried. 
 
 Naois sheathed his iron without stain 
 
 And laughed — " This shall be praised in revels mad 
 Around Lug's peak wdien women scatter grain 
 
 Upon the warriors. Why shouldst thou be sad. 
 Pale Victory? " But she, '' Ah, thus again 
 
 Ere night do I imperil thee, and add 
 Burden to burden." And he strove to lead her 
 From grief and said, "What, bride! thy raiment 
 
 torn? " 
 " Content thee, O content thee, man of scorn; 
 ril brooch it with no jewel but a thorn ! " 
 
 They seek down through the Wood of Awe that liems 
 Findruim like the host about his grave, 
 
 Dusk with the swarth locks of ten thousand stems 
 In branchless poise. These make no rustle save 
 
 Some pine-cone dropp'd or murmur that condemns 
 Murmur; benumb'd with moss that giant nave. 
 
 But let Findruim shake out overhead 
 
 His old sea-sigh, and when it doth arrive 
 
 At once their tawny boles become alive 
 
 Wth flames that come and go, and they revive 
 
 The north's Fomorian rear. " I am enthrall'd," 
 
 He said, " as by the blueness of a ray, 
 That, dropping through this presence windy- wal I'd, 
 
 Burns low about the image of a spray. 
 
DEIRDRE WED. 25 
 
 Of some poor beech- spray, witch' d to emerald. 
 
 Wih thou not dance, daughter of heaven, this day 
 Here at last free ? Fbr here no moody raindrop 
 Can reach thee, nor betrayer overpeer, 
 And none the self-delightful measure hear 
 That thy soul moves to, quit of mortal ear." 
 
 Full loth she pleads, yet cannot him resist 
 And on the enmossed lights begins to dance : 
 
 Away, away far-floating like a mist 
 To fade into some leafy brilliance. 
 
 Then, smiling to the inward melodist. 
 
 Over the printless turf with slow advance 
 
 Of showery footsteps, makes she infinite 
 
 That crowded glen. But quick, possessed by strange 
 
 Rapture, wider than dreams her motions range 
 
 Till to a span the forests shrink and change. 
 
 And in her eyes and glimmering arms she brings 
 Hitlier all promise — all the unlook'd-for boon 
 
 Of rainbow'd life — all rare and speechless things 
 That shine and swell under the brimming moon. 
 
 Who shall pluck tympans ? For what need of strings ? 
 To waft her blood v/ho is herself the tune, 
 
 Herself the warm and breathing melody? 
 
 Art come from the Land of the Ever-Young? O stay! 
 
 For his heart, after thee rising away. 
 
 Falls dark and spirit-faint back to the clay. 
 
 Griefs, like the yellow leaves by winter curled, 
 
 Rise after her, long-buried pangs arouse 
 About that bosom the gray forests whirl'd 
 
26 DEIRDRE WED. 
 
 And tempests with her beauty might espouse. 
 She rose with the green waters of the world 
 
 And the winds heaved with her their depth of boughs. 
 Then vague again as blows the beanfield's odour 
 On the dark lap of air she chose to sink 
 As, winnowing with plumes, to the river-brink 
 The pigeons from the cliff come down to drink. 
 
 Sudden distraught, she listened, and so ceased; 
 
 Wan as a bride, whom cunning faery strain 
 Forth from the trumpet-bruited spousal feast 
 
 Steals. Soon she beckon'd him, and quick with pain 
 He ran, he craved at those white feet the least 
 
 Pardon; nor, till he felt her hand again 
 Descend flake-soft, durst spy that she was weeping 
 Or kneel with burning murmurs to atone. 
 For sleep she wept. Long fasting had they gone 
 And ridden from the breaking of the dawn. 
 
 It chanced that waters, nigh to that selve grove, 
 
 From Sleep's own lake as from a cauldron pass; 
 He led towards their sound his weary love 
 And lay before her in the fresh of grass 
 Where with the white cirque of the cliffs above 
 
 She sate against a rowan stem there was. 
 vSpray from the threads of water spilling over 
 The weir of rock their fever'd cheeks bewet, 
 And to its sound a voiceless bread they ate 
 And drank the troth that is unbroken yet. 
 
 Out in the mere — brown — unbesilvered now 
 By finest skimming of the elfin breeze — 
 
DEIRDRE WED. 27 
 
 An isle was moor'd with rushes at its prow 
 
 And fraught with haze of deeply-mirror'd trees. 
 
 And knowing Deirdre still was mindful how 
 The boar yet lived, — that she might sleep at ease 
 
 Naois swore to harbour on that islet. 
 
 Nine strides he waded in, on footings nine 
 
 Felt under water, till his basnet' s shine 
 
 Sank to the cold lips of the lake divine. 
 
 Divine, for once the sunk stones of that way 
 Approached the pool-god, and the outermost 
 
 Had been the black slab whereon druids slay 
 With stoop and mutter to the water's ghost. 
 
 But since, to glut some whim malign, the fay 
 Had swell'd over the flags. Of all the host 
 
 Few save Naois, and at sore adventure, 
 
 Had ta'en this pass. But who would not have press'd 
 
 Through straits by the chill-fingered fiend possess'd 
 
 To bear unto that isle Deirdre to rest ? 
 
 " Seal up thy sight. My shield of iron rims 
 
 Unhook — Cast in my broken helm for spoil." 
 'Twas done, and then with rush of cleaving limbs 
 
 He swam and bore her out with happy toil 
 Secret and fierce as the flat otter swims 
 
 Out of the whistling reeds as if through oil. 
 And Deirdre, whiter than the wave-swan floating, 
 
 Smiled that he sufi'ered her no stroke to urge. 
 At length they reach the gnarl'd and ivied verge 
 And from the shallows to the sun emerge. 
 
2 8 DEIRDRE WED. 
 
 She spreads her wolf-skins on the rock that glows 
 And sun-tears wrings out of the heavy strands 
 Of corded hair. He, watching to the close, 
 
 Sees not the white silk vesture as she stands 
 Clinging beduU'd to the clear limbs of rose. 
 
 She turn'd and to him stretch'd misdoubting hands: 
 " Tell me, ere thou dissolve, O wordless watcher. 
 Am I that Deirdre that would sit and spin 
 Beside Keshcorran? Dost thou love me? Then 
 I touch thee. For I, too, have love within." 
 
 O sacred cry ! Again, again the first 
 
 I.ove cry ! How the steep woods tliirst for thy voice, 
 O never-dying one ! That voice, like the outburst 
 
 And gush of a young spring's delicious noise 
 Driven from the ancient heights whereon 'twas nursed. 
 
 Yet, as death's heart is silent, so is joy's. 
 His mouth spake not ; for as in dusk Glen Treithim 
 Smelters of gold, they say, bear not to breathe 
 Reek of the lovely fumes whose hissings wreathe 
 The brim, he choked at his own spirit's seethe. 
 
 Sternly he looked on her and strangely said, 
 
 '' What touch is this? * It hath unearthly powers, 
 
 I think thou art the woman Cairbre made 
 Out of the dazzle and the wind of flowers. 
 
 Behold the flame-like children of the shade, 
 The buds, about thee rise like servitors. 
 
 It seems I had not lipped the cup that liveth 
 
 Till thou didst stretch it out. Vaguely I felt 
 
DEIRDRE WED. 29 
 
 Irreparable waste. Why hast thou dwelled 
 Near me on earth so long, yet unbeheld? " 
 
 Chanters ! The Night brings night the deeps far off, 
 But the Twilight shows the distance of the Near, 
 
 And with a million dawns that pierce above 
 Mixes the soul of suns that disappear, 
 
 To make man's eyes approach the eyes of love 
 In simpleness, in mystery and fear. 
 
 All blooms both bright and pale are in her gardens. 
 
 All chords, both shrill and deep under her hand. 
 
 Who, sounding all the richness of the land, 
 
 Estrangeth all, that we may understand. 
 
 So still it v/as, they heard in the evening skies 
 Creak of two eagles' wing-feathers afar 
 
 Coasting the gray cliffs. On him slowly rise, 
 As to Cuchullain came his signal star 
 
 Out of the sheeted rivers, Deirdre's eyes. 
 
 /\nd v/ho Icok'd in them well was girt for war, 
 
 Seeing in that gaze all who for love have perished : 
 
 llie queens calamitous unbow'd at last — 
 
 The supreme fighters that alone stood fast — 
 
 Fealties obscure, unwitness'd, and long past, 
 
 Cloud over cloud — the host that hath attained 
 
 Tlirough love — their very essence, force, heat, 
 breath — 
 
 Arose, arose in Deirdre's eyes and deign'd 
 
 Summons to him — " Canst follon' us? " it saith — 
 
 Till from that flash'd contagion he hath gained 
 An outlook like to conquest over death. 
 
30 DEIRDRE WED. 
 
 Then he discerns the solemn-rafter'd world 
 By this frail brazier's glowings, wherein blend 
 Coals that no man hath kindled, without end 
 Born and reborn from ashes to ascend. 
 
 And face to face to him unbared she cleaves 
 
 Strong through scarce-breathing, rapt from day and 
 night, 
 
 Rapt as the fair-brow'd priestess, Earth, receives 
 In all her lochs and plains and rivers bright 
 
 And shores wide-trembling, where one image heaves. 
 Him that is lord of silence and of light. 
 
 Slow the God sigh'd himself from rocks and waters, 
 
 But in his soft withdrawals from the air 
 
 No creature in the weightless world was there 
 
 Uttered its being's secret round the pair. 
 
 And them had Passion's self-enshrouding arm 
 
 Taken, as a green fury of ocean takes 
 Through the dense thickets smitten with alarm 
 
 To the islet's tranced core. And Deirdre wakes 
 Lifting hot lids that shut against the stomi. 
 
 Lying on a hillock, amid slender brakes 
 Of gray trees, to the babble of enchantments 
 From mouths of chill-born flowers. The place was 
 
 new 
 To rapture. Branched sunbursts plashing through 
 After, had laid the mound with fire and dew. 
 
 Naois cuts down osiers. Now he seeks 
 
 A narrow grass-plot shorn as if with scythe, 
 And over two great bouklcrs' wrinkled cheeks 
 
DEIRDRE WED. 31 
 
 Draws down and knots a hull of saplings lithe 
 Well-staunch'd with earthy-odour'd moss, and sticks 
 
 Known to the feet of birds. This darkness blithe 
 He frames against the stars for forest sleepers. 
 The living tide of stars aloft that crept 
 Compassioned far below. No wavelet leapt : 
 And deep rest fell upon them there. They slept. 
 
 Long still the melancholy mountains lay, 
 
 And fitful-rippling shades that isle enwound. 
 Naois fell through dream to dream, as may 
 
 Some twig from branch to branch ere rest is found. 
 And while from headlands scarce a league away 
 
 The din of the sea-breakers come aground 
 Rolled up the valley, he in vision felt 
 His currach frail under Dun Aengus sweep — 
 Triumphing with his love, and leap on leap 
 Draw past by the ocean shelves of seals asleep, 
 
 But over starred peat-water where the flag 
 Rustles, and listens for the scud of teal : 
 Over coast, forest, and bethunder'd crag, 
 
 Night, mother of despair, who proves the steel 
 In men, to see if they be dross and slag, 
 
 Or fit v.ith trusts and enemies to deal 
 Uneyed, alone — diffusing her wide veils 
 Bowed from the heavens unto a mortal's ear : 
 '' A questioner awaits thee. Wake! " The mere 
 Slept on. save for the twilight-footed deer. 
 
 " Those antlered shadows of the forest roof 
 Nigh to the shore must be assembled thick," 
 
32 DEIRDRE WED. 
 
 He thought, ''and bringing necks round to the hoof, 
 
 Or being aslaked and couching, seek to hck 
 The fawns ; some heady bucks engage aloof, 
 So sharp across the water comes the chck 
 Of sparring horns." But was it a vain terror, 
 Son of the sword, or one for courage staunch 
 That the herd, dismayed, at a bound, wnth a quivering 
 
 haunch 
 Murmur'd away into night at the crack of a branch ? 
 
 And Deirdre woke. Reverberate from on high 
 Amongst the sullen hills, again there fell 
 
 A mournful cry, like to the broken cry 
 
 From the house of hostage in some citadel 
 
 Of hostages lifting up their agony 
 
 After the land they must remember well. 
 
 '' Deirdre is gone. Gone is the little Deirdre ! " 
 
 And she, knowing not the voice as voice of man, 
 
 Stood up. " Lie still, lest thee the spirit ban; 
 
 O vein of life, lie still ! " But Deirdre ran 
 
 Like the moon through brakes, and saw where nought 
 had been 
 
 On the vague shore what seemed a stone that stood 
 Faceless, rough-hewn, it forward seemed to lean 
 
 Like the worn pillar of Cenn Cruaich the Good. 
 She cried across, '' If thou with things terrene 
 
 Be number'd, tell me why thy sorrowful blood 
 Mourneth, O Cathva, father! " But the stone 
 Shiver'd, and broke the staff it leaned upon, 
 Shouting, '' What, liv'st thou yet? Begone, begone! " 
 
VOICE OF FINTAN. 
 
 Yet to the two enwrapped in island trees 
 The third across the water cried, '' Speak once ! 
 Though the earth shake beneath you Uke a sieve 
 With rumble of the end — one thing I ask. 
 Naois, did she understand his hate 
 Whose arm of storm environs your weak flittings 
 Through me, that blow away the gaze and smile 
 From human faces? Ah! had she but known 
 Mourning all night the fading of her kingdoms 
 Fled like a song — What means ' a banished man '; 
 That he and I must hound thee to the death : 
 That thou shalt never see the carven beams, 
 Familiar with the tender noise of doves, 
 In thy fair mother Usnach's house again, 
 But drift out, like some sea-bird, far, far, hence : 
 Far from the red isle of the roes and berries : 
 Far from sun-galleries and pleasant duns 
 And swards of lovers, branded nationless. 
 That none of all thy famous friends, with thee 
 Wrestlers on Eman in the summer evenings, 
 Shall deem thee noble still ; and that at last 
 I must upheave thy heart's tough plank to crack it ; 
 Knowing all this, would this fool follow thee? " 
 Then spoke Naois, keeping anger down, 
 
 LofC. 
 
34 DEIRDRE WED. 
 
 *' Strange is it one so old should threat with death. 
 
 Are not hoth thou and I, are not we all 
 
 Sealed v;ith the thumb of Death vrhen we are born ? 
 
 As for friends lost (though I believe thee not), 
 
 A man is nourished by his enemies 
 
 No less than by his friends. And as for her; 
 
 Because no man shall deem me 'noble still — 
 
 Because I, like a sea-gull of the isles, 
 
 May be driven forth — sleepless and nationless, — 
 
 Because I may no more perhaps behold 
 
 The carven beams in my fair mother's house 
 
 And hear the noise of doves; because the powers 
 
 Controlling fortune break upon my head — 
 
 Yes; for that very cause, lacked other cause, 
 
 In love the closer, quenchless, absolute, 
 
 Would Deirdre choose to follow me. Such pains. 
 
 Old man, the kingdoms are of souls like hers." 
 
 He spoke; he knew the life-blood at his side 
 
 Sprung of the west, beyond vs-hich no land lies — 
 
 Beating " look forth on everlastingness ! 
 
 Through the coiled waters and the death of light 
 
 ril be tliy sail ! " The figure by the reeds 
 
 Spoke not; the echo-trembling tarn grew mute. 
 
 But when through matted forests with uproar 
 
 11ie levy of pursuers, 1:)razen, vast. 
 
 Gushed like a river; and torched chariots drew 
 
 With thunder-footed horses on, and swept 
 
 Up to the sedge, and at the Druid's shape 
 
 Their steamy bellies reared over the brink, 
 
 Pav.-ing the mist : and when a terrible voice 
 
 Asked of that shape if druid ken saw now 
 
DEIRDRE WED. 35 
 
 he lovers, — in the changeless Isle of Sleep 
 or Deirdre nor Naois answer heard; 
 nd like a burning dream the host passed by, 
 ill on the pale shore not a man remained. 
 
 Herbert Trench 
 
THE ROCK OF CLOUD. 
 
 From Youghal of the yew strand 
 
 Into the north we sailed, 
 But nine nights outward from the land 
 
 When all the sea was veiled, 
 
 We heard a chanting in the fog 
 On the frore plain of the sea, 
 
 And stayed the galley like a log 
 To sound that mystery. 
 
 And three went up into the bow 
 And hailed the curling rack : 
 
 " What demon or what spirit thou? " 
 And the lone voice came back. 
 
 Came, as of one so evil-starred 
 That he hath done with grief. 
 
 In monotone as keen and hard 
 As the bell swung from a reef : 
 
 " Human I am — would I were foam ! 
 
 Row hither : ye may hear, 
 Yet shall not save, nor bring me home, 
 
 Seek ye a thousand year." 
 
38 THE ROCK OF CLOUD. 
 
 " Keep a stout hope." '' I keep no hope." 
 '" Man alive! " " Spare your toil." 
 
 ^' We are upon thee! " " Nay, no rope 
 Over the gap shall coil." 
 
 '' Who art thou? " '' I was Pilot once 
 
 On many a ship of mark; 
 Went aboard — spoke to none — but steered; 
 
 And dropt off in the dark. 
 
 " But one night — Christ ! — We struck — we sank. 
 
 I reached this rock of wings 
 Whereby from every boulder's flank 
 
 The long sea-ribbon swings. 
 
 '' Here, while the sole eye of the Sun 
 
 Did scorch my body bare 
 A great Sea-Spirit rose; and shone 
 
 In the water thrilled with hair. 
 
 '' She lay back on the green abyss 
 
 Beautiful; her spread arms 
 Soothed to a poise — a soId — of bliss 
 
 Its thunders and alarms. 
 
 *' Her breasts as pearl were duU and pure; 
 
 Her body's secret light 
 Swam like a cloud. Her eyes unsure 
 
 From the great depths were bright. 
 
THE ROCK OF CLOUD. 39 
 
 *' There was no thing of bitterness 
 
 In aught that she could say; 
 She called my soul as down a coast 
 
 The Moon calls bay beyond bay, 
 And they rise, — back o' the uttermost — 
 
 Away, and yet away. 
 
 " ' I chose thee from the sinking crews, 
 
 I bore thee up alive ; 
 Now durst thou follow me and choose 
 
 Under the world to dive ? 
 
 " ' Come ! we will catch when stars are out 
 
 The black wave's spitting crest. 
 And still, w^hen the Bull of Dawn shall spout, 
 
 Be washing on abreast. 
 
 '' ' Or thee under the bulky seas 
 
 Paven with suns I'll hide, 
 Deathless and boundless, and at ease 
 
 In any shape to glide. 
 
 " ' All waters that on Earth have welled 
 
 At last to me repair; 
 All mountains starred with cities melt 
 
 Into my dreamy air. 
 
 '^ ' Set on thy peak under the brink, 
 
 ril show thee clouds above, 
 The stuff of kingdoms. They shall sink 
 
40 THE ROCK OF CLOUD. 
 
 While thou dost teach me love; 
 On beaches white as the young Moons 
 I'll sit and fathom love.' " 
 
 " And zvhat saidst thou? " " From over sea 
 I felt a sad sigh burn 
 That made this bed of rock to me 
 More delicate than fern. 
 
 '' And faint as moth-wings I could hear 
 
 Tops of the pine-tree sway 
 And the last words spoken in mine ear 
 
 Before the break of day; 
 
 " And I cried out, sore, sore at the heart 
 For her that sleeps at home, 
 
 ' Brightness, I will not know thine art, 
 Nor to thy country come.' 
 
 " Straightway she sank — smiling so pale — 
 But from the seethe up-broke — 
 
 Never thrashed off by gust or gale — 
 An everlasting smoke : 
 
 " A mist no life may pass, save these 
 Wave-winged, with shrieking voice: 
 
 Stars I discern not, nor the seas " — 
 '' O, dost not rue thy choice f " 
 
 " Rue it ? Now get back to the Deep, 
 
 For I doubt if men ye be. 
 And I will keep a steady helm 
 
 By the star I cannot see." 
 
THE ROCK OF CLOUD. 41 
 
 Passion o' man ! We sprang to oars, 
 
 And sought on, weeping loud. 
 All night in earshot of the shores 
 
 But never through the cloud. 
 
 Herbert Trench. 
 
SHE COMES NOT WHEN THE NOON IS 
 ON THE ROSES. 
 
 She comes not when the Noon is on the roses, 
 
 Too bright is Day. 
 She comes not to the Soul till it reposes 
 
 From work and play. 
 
 But when Night is on the hills, and the great Voices 
 
 Roll in from Sea, 
 By starlight and by candlelight and dreamlight 
 She comes to me. 
 
 Herbert Trench. 
 
 43 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 014 547 374 3 % 
 
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