Kitobni o'qish: «Elves and Heroes», sahifa 7

LOST SONGS

 
Harp of my fathers—on the mouldering wall
  Of days forgotten—like a far-off wind
Hushing the fir-wood at soft even-fall,
  Thy low-heard whispers to my heart recall
The wistful songs, to Silence Old consigned,
  That Ossian sang when he was frail and blind.
 
 
Thy fitful notes from the melodious trees,
  I fain would echo in my feeble rhyme—
The inner music quivering on the breeze
  I hear; and throbbing from the beating seas,
On ancient shores, the wearied pulse of Time
  That mingles with thy melodies sublime.
 

OTHER POEMS

THE DREAM

 
'Twas when I woke I knew it was a dream,
Measured by moments, that to me did seem,
  A life-long spell of joy and peace to be—
 
 
Will that last dream that comes ere death descends,
From which I shall not wake to know it ends,
  Thus seem to live on through Eternity?
 

FREE WILL

 
Say not the will of man is free
  Within the limits of his soul—
Who from his heritage can flee?
  Who can his destiny control?
 
 
In vain we wage perpetual strife,
  'Gainst instincts dumb and blind desires—
Who leads must serve.. The pulse of life
  Throbs with the dictates of our sires.
 
 
Since when the world began to be,
  And life through hidden purpose came,
From sire to son unceasingly
  The task bequeathed hath been the same.
 
 
We strive, while fetters bind us fast,
  We seek to do what needs must be—
We move through bondage with the past
  In service to posterity.
 

STRIFE

 
Weary of strife—
The surge and clash of city life—
I sought for peace in solitude,
Within the hushed and darkened wood
And on the lonesome moor—
But found contending leaf and root
Engaged in conflict fierce though mute,
While what was frail was slain
By what was strong in dire dispute—
I sought for peace in vain!
The world, sustained by strife, endures in pain.
 
 
"All things that are in conflict be,"
I murmured on the shelving strand,
Where struggling winds would fain be free—
The tides in conflict with the wind's command,
Turned tossing, wearily—
I heard the loud sea labouring to the land—
I saw the dumb land striving with the sea.
 

SONNET

(Written in the Stone Gallery of St Paul's.)

 
The drowsing city sparkles in the heat,
And murmur in mine ears unceasingly
The surging tides of that vast human sea—
The billows of life that break with muffled beat
And vibrate through this high and lone retreat;
While over all, serene, and fair, and free,
Thy dome is reared in naked majesty
Grey, old St Paul's … In thee the Ages meet,
Slumbering amidst the trophies of their strife.
And in their dreams thou hearest, while the cries
Of triumph and despair ascend from Life,
The murmurings of immortality—
Thou Sentinel of Hope that doth despise
What was and is not, waiting what shall be!
 

"OUT OF THE MOUTHS OF BABES."

 
"Is baby dead?" he whispered, with wide eyes
  Tearless, but full of eloquent regret,
His childish face grown prematurely wise—
  Pond'ring the problem death before him set.
 
 
"Baby is dead," I answered, as I laid
  My hand on her frail forehead with a sigh;
"Oh! daddy, why did God do this?" he said,
  And silently my heart made answer, "Why?"
 
 
He touched her white, worn face, and said, "How cold
  Is our wee baby now." … His eyes were deep …
Then came his little brother, two years old,
  He looked, and lisped, "The baby is asleep."
 

NOTES

The Wee Folk.—In Gaelic they are usually called "The Peace People" (sithchean). Other names are "Wee Folk" (daoine beaga); "Light Folk" (slaugh eutrom), etc. As in the Lowlands, they are also referred to as "guid fowk" and "guid neighbours."

The Banshee (Beanshith).—Sometimes referred to as "The Fairy Queen," sometimes as "The Green Lady." She sings a song while she washes the clothes of one about to meet a swift and tragic fate. In the Fian poems she converses with those who see her, and foretells the fate of warriors going to battle.

The Blue Men of the Minch (Na Fir Ghorm).—Between the Shant Isles (Charmed Isles) and Lewis is the "Stream of the Blue Men." They are the "sea-horses" of the island Gaels. Their presence in the strait was believed to be the cause of its billowy restlessness and swift currents.

The Changeling.—When the fairies robbed a mother of her babe, they left behind a useless, old, and peevish fairy, who took the form of a child. This belief may have originated in the assumption that when a baby became ill and fretful, it was a changeling.

The Urisk is, if anything, a personification of fear. It is a silent, cloudy shape which haunts lonely moors, and follows travellers, but rarely does more than scare them.

My Fairy Lover.—Fairies fell in love with human beings, and deserted them when their love was returned. Women of unsound mind, given to wandering alone in solitary places, were believed to be the victims of fairy love.

Yon Fairy Dog (An Cu Sith) was heard howling on stormy nights. He was "big as a stirk," one informant has declared The "fearsome tail" appears to have been not the least impressive thing about it. The MacCodrums were brave and fearless, and were supposed to be descended from Seals, which were believed to be human beings under spells.

My Gunna.—This kindly, but solitary, elf herded cattle by night, and prevented them from falling over the rocks. He was seen only by those gifted with the faculty of "second sight." The Gunna resembles the Lowland "Brownie."

Her Evil Eye.—Belief in the Evil Eye is still quite common, even among educated people, in the Highlands. Not a few children wear "the cord," to which a silver coin is appended, as a charm against the influence of "the eye."

The Little Old Man of the Barn (Bodachan Sabhaill).—Like the Gunna, he is a variety the kindly Brownie, and assisted the needy.

Nimble Men (Na Fir Chlis) are "The Merry Dancers," or Aurora Borealis. It was believed that, when the streamers were coloured, the "men and maids" were dancing, and that after the dance the lovers fought for the love of the queen. When the streamers are particularly vivid, a pink cloud is seen below them, and this is called "the pool of blood." It drips upon blood-stones, the spots on which are referred to as fairy blood (fuil siochaire). A wizard could, by waving his wand, summon the "Nimble Men" to dance in the northern sky.

The Water Horse haunted lonely lochs, and lured human beings to a terrible death. When a hand was laid on its main, power to remove it was withdrawn.

A Cursing—The Gaelic curses are quaint in translation, but terrible in the original.

Bonnach Fallaidh.—It was considered unlucky to throw away the remnants of a baking. So the good-wife made a little bannock, which was pierced in the middle, as a charm against fairy influence. It was given to a child for performing an errand, but the charm would be broken if the reason for gifting it were explained. That was the good-wife's secret. It was also unlucky to count the bannocks, and when they fell, "bad luck" was foretold. Finlay's bannock was not kneaded on the board or placed on the brander, but, unlike the other bannocks, was toasted in front of the fire.

The Gruagach was a gentlemanly Brownie, who haunted byres. It was never seen, although its shadow occasionally danced on the wall as it flitted about. Often, when chased, it was heard tittering round corners. In some barns, Clach-na-gruagach—"the Gruagach's stone"—is still seen. Milkers pour an offering of milk into the hollowed stone "for luck." The cream might not rise and the churn yield no butter if this service were neglected. A favourite trick of the Gruagach was to untie the cattle in the byre, so as to bring out the milkmaid, especially if she had forgotten to leave the offering of milk.

Tober Mhuire (St Mary's Well) is situated at Tarradale, Ross-shire. When a sick person asks for a drink of Tober Mhuire water, it is taken as a sign of approaching death. It is a curious thing that this reverence for holy water should be perpetuated among a Presbyterian people. Wishing and curative wells are numerous in the North.

The Fians of Knockfarrel.—This story belongs to the Ossianic or Fian cycle of Gaelic tales in prose and verse. Hugh Miller makes reference to it, but speaks of the Fians as giants. In Strathpeffer district the tale is well known, and it is referred to in "Waifs and Strays of Celtic Tradition." It is also localised in Skye. There are several Fian place-names in the Highlands. The warriors are supposed to lie in a charmed sleep in Craig-a-howe Cave, near Munlochy, Ross-shire. Caoilte, the swift runner, was a famous Fian. Finn was chief, and Goll and Garry were of Clan Morna, which united with the Fians. "Moolachie" is a little babe, and "clarsach," a harp.

Ledbag's Warning.—Children who twist their mouths, or squint, are warned that, if the wind changes, their contortions will remain. The fate of the flounder, which mocked the cod, is cited as a terrible example.

Conn, Son of the Red is a Fian tale of which several old Gaelic versions have been collected. Goll, the "first hero" of the Fians, slew the Red when Conn, his son, was seven years old. In the fullness of time the young hero, whom his enemies admire as well as fear, crossed the sea to avenge his father's death, and engaged in a long and fierce duel with Goll.

Death of Cuchullin is from the Cuchullin Cycle of Bronze Age heroic tales. The enemy have invaded and laid waste the province of Ulster, and the chief warriors of the Red Branch, except Cuchullin, who must needs fight alone, are laid under spells by the magicians of the invaders. The poem is suffused with evidences of magical beliefs and practices. Cuchullin goes forth knowing that he will meet his doom. His name signifies "hound of Culann." In his youth he slew Culann's ferocious watch-hound which attacked him, and took its place until another was trained. It was "geis" (taboo) for him to partake of the flesh of a hound (his totem), or eat at a cooking hearth; but he must needs accept the hospitality of the witches. The satirists are satirical bards who, it was believed, could not only lampoon a hero, but infuse their compositions with magical powers like incantations. Cuchullin cannot be slain except by his own spear, which he must deliver up to a satirist who demands it. Emania, the capital of Ulster, was the home of the Bed Branch warriors.

Sleepy Song.—When Diarmid eloped with Grianne, as Paris did with Helen, the Fians followed them, so that Finn, their chief, might be avenged. Diarmid, who is the unwilling victim of Grainne's spells, dreads to meet Finn, and is in constant fear of discovery.