To see the misty shading of the mighty mountains fading,
And thy winged fire-steed wading thro' the clouds as thro' a sea!
Now he feels the earth beneath him-he is loosen'd-he is free,
And asleep in Céim-an-eich.
Away the wild steed leapeth, while his rider calmly sleepeth
Beneath a rock which keepeth the entrance to the glen,
Which standeth like a castle, where are dwelling lord and vassal,
Where within are wine and wassail, and without are warrior men—
But save the sleeping Maurice, this castle cliff had then
Now Maurice is awaking, for the solid earth is shaking,
And a sunny light is breaking through the slowly opening stone— And a fair page at the portal, crieth "Welcome, welcome! mortal, Leave thy world (at best a short ill), for the pleasant world we
There are joys by thee untasted, there are glories yet unknownCome, kneel at Una's throne."
With a sullen sound of thunder, the great rock falls asunder,
He looks around in wonder, and with ravishment awhile-
For the air his sense is chaining, with as exquisite a paining,
As when summer clouds are raining o'er a flowery Indian isle—
And the faces that surround him, oh! how exquisite their smile,
So free of mortal care and guile.
These forms, oh! they are finer--these faces are diviner
Than, Phidias, even thine are, with all thy magic art;
For beyond an artist's guessing, and beyond a bard's expressing,
Is the face that truth is dressing with the feelings of the heart;
Two worlds are there together-Earth and Heaven have each a
part-
And such, divinest Una, thou art!
And then the dazzling lustre of the hall in which they muster— Where brightest diamonds cluster on the flashing walls around; And the flying and advancing, and the sighing and the glancing, And the music and the dancing on the flower-inwoven ground, And the laughing and the feasting, and the quaffing and the sound, In which their voices all are drowned.
*There is a great square rock, literally resembling the description in the text, which stands near the Glengariff entrance to the pass of Céim-an-eich.
But the murmur now is hushing-there's a pushing and a rushing,
There's a crowding and a crushing, through that golden, fairy place,
Where a snowy veil is lifting, like the slow and silent shifting
Of a shining vapour drifting across the moon's pale face-
For there sits gentle Una, fairest queen of fairy race,
and grace.
In her beauty, and her majesty,
The moon by stars attended, on her pearly throne ascended,
Is not more purely splendid than this fairy-girted queen;
And when her lips had spoken, 'mid the charmed silence broken,
You'd think you had awoken in some bright Elysian scene;
For her voice than the lark's was sweeter, that sings in joy between
The heavens and the meadows green.
But her cheeks-ah! what are roses? What are clouds where eve reposes?
What are hues that dawn discloses ? to the blushes spreading there;
And what the sparkling motion of a star within the ocean,
To the crystal soft emotion that her lustrous dark eyes wear?
And the tresses of a moonless and a starless night are fair
To the blackness of her raven hair.
"Ah! Mortal, hearts have panted for what to thee is granted-
To see the halls enchanted of the spirit world revealed;
And yet no glimpse assuages the feverish doubt that rages
In the hearts of bards and sages wherewith they may be healed;
For this have pilgrims wandered-for this have votaries kneeled
For this, too, has blood bedewed the field.
"And now that thou beholdest, what the wisest and the oldest, What the bravest and the boldest, have never yet descriedWilt thou come and share our being, be a part of what thou'rt seeing,
And flee, as we are fleeing, through the boundless ether wide? Or along the silver ocean, or down deep where pearls hide? And I, who am a queen, will be thy bride.
"As an essence thou wilt enter the world's mysterious centre And then the fairy bent her, imploring, to the youth
"Thou'lt be free of death's cold ghastness, and, with a comet's fastness,
Thou can'st wander through the vastness to the Paradise of Truth, Each day a new joy bringing, which will never leave, in sooth, The slightest stain of weariness and ruth."
As he listened to the speaker, his heart grew weak and weaker—
Ah! Memory, go seek her, that maiden by the wave,
Who with terror and amazement is looking from her casement,
Where the billows at the basement of her nestled cottage rave
At the moon, which struggles onward through the tempest, like
the brave,
And which sinks within the clouds as in a grave.
All maidens will abhor us—and it's very painful for us
To tell how faithless Maurice forgot his plighted vow;
He thinks not of the breaking of the heart he late was seeking-
He but listens to her speaking, and but gazes on her brow---
And his heart has all consented, and his lips are ready now
With the awful, and irrevocable vow.
While the word is there abiding, lo! the crowd is now dividing, And, with sweet and gentle gliding, in before him came a fawn; It was the same that fled him, and that seemed so much to dread him,
When it down in triumph led him to Glengariff's grassy lawn,
When, from rock to rock descending, to sweet Alice he was drawn,
As through Céim-an-eich he hunted from the dawn
The magic chain is broken-no fairy vow is spoken-
From his trance he hath awoken, and once again is free;
And gone is Una's palace, and vain the wild steed's malice,
And again to gentle Alice down he wends through Céim-an-eich:
The moon is calmly shining over mountain, stream, and tree,
And the yellow sea-plants glisten through the sea.
The sun his gold is flinging, the happy birds are singing,
And bells are gaily ringing along Glengariff's sea;
And crowds in many a galley to the happy marriage rally
Of the maiden of the valley and the youth of Céim-an-eich;
Old eyes with joy are weeping, as all ask, on bended knee,
A blessing, gentle Alice, upon thee!
WOULD'ST know what tricks, by the pale moonlight,
Are played by me, the merry little Sprite,
Who wing through air from the camp to the court,
From king to clown, and of all make sport;
Singing, I am the Sprite
Who laugh at weak mortals, and love the moonlight.
To a miser's bed, where he snoring slept
And dreamt of his cash, I slily crept;
Chink, chink o'er his pillow like money I rang,
And he waked to catch-but away I sprang,
Singing, I am the Sprite, &c.
I saw through the leaves, in a damsel's bower,
She was waiting her love at that starlight hour;
"Hist-hist!" quoth I, with an amorous sigh,
And she flew to the door, but away flew I,
Singing, I am the Sprite, &c.
While a bard sat inditing an ode to his love,
Like a pair of blue meteors I stared from above,
And he swoon'd-for he thought 'twas the ghost, poor man
Of his lady's eyes, while away I ran,
Singing I am the Sprite
Of the merry midnight,
Who laugh at weak mortals, and love the moonlight!
EARL DESMOND AND THE BANSHEE.
Now cheer thee on, my gallant steed,
There's a weary way before us—
Across the mountain swiftly speed,
For the storm is gathering o'er us.
Away, away, the horseman rides;
His bounding steed's dark form
Seem'd o'er the soft black moss to glide-
A spirit of the storm!
Now, rolling in the troubled sky,
The thunder's loudly crashing;
And through the dark clouds, driving by,
The moon's pale light is flashing.
In sheets of foam the mountain flood
Comes roaring down the glen;
On the steep bank one moment stood
The horse and rider then.
One desperate bound the courser gave,
And plunged into the stream;
And snorting, stemmed the boiling wave,
By the lightning's quivering gleam.
The flood is past-the bank is gained-
Away with headlong speed:
A fleeter horse than Desmond rein'd
Ne'er served at lover's need.
His scatter'd train, in eager haste,
Far, far behind him ride;
Alone he's crossed the mountain waste,
To meet his promised bride.
The clouds across the moon's dim form
Are fast and faster sailing,
And sounds are heard on the sweeping storm, Of wild unearthly wailing.
At first low moanings seem'd to die
Away, and faintly languish;
Then swell into the piercing cry
Of deep, heart-bursting anguish.
Beneath an oak, whose branches bare
Were crashing in the storm,
With wringing hands and streaming hair,
There sat a female form.
To pass that oak in vain he tried;
His steed refused to stir,
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