Fifteen
Songs
She chained her in a cavern
frore;
She set a sign upon the door.
The key into the ocean fell:
The maid forgot the lamp as
well.
She waited for the days of
spring;
Year by year did seven die,
And every year one passed
her by.
She waited thro' the
winter's cold,
And her tresses, waiting too,
Recalled the light that once
they knew.
They sought the light, they
found it out,
Crept thro' the rocks and
round about,
And lit the rocks with all
their gold.
He comes at eve that passed
of old;
Amazed at the wondrous sight,
He does not dare approach
the light.
He
deems it is a
mystic sign,
Or
else a spring that
gushes
gold,
Or
angels at their
sport divine:
He
turns, and passes
as of old.
If he
one day come
again,
What
shall then be said?
–
Say that one
awaited him,
Always,
that is dead.
Ay,
but if he ask me
more,
Yet
know me not again?
–
Speak as any
sister might,
Lest
he be in pain.
If he
ask where you
are gone,
What
shall I reply?
–
Give
him then my
golden ring,
Make
him no reply.
If he
ask me why the
hall
Shows
a silent floor?
–
Show him then
the smouldered
lamp
And
the open door.
If he ask me of the hour
When
you
fell asleep?
–Tell him, tell
him that I smiled
Lest
my
love should weep.
Three little maids they have
done to death,
To see what hid within their
hearts.
The first little heart was
full of bliss,
And lo, wherever its blood
might run,
Three serpents hissed till
three years were
done.
The second was full of
gentlehood,
And lo, wherever its blood
might run
Three lambs that fed till
three years were
done.
The third was full of pain
and woe,
And lo, wherever the red
blood crept
Archangels three their vigil
kept.
Maidens
with bounden
eyes
(O loose the scarves of
gold!) –
Maidens
with bounden
eyes,
They
sought their
destinies.
At
noon they opened
wide
(O keep the scarves of
gold!)
At
noon they opened
wide
The
palace of the
plain:
There
they greeted life
(Bind close the scarves
of gold!)
There
they greeted
life,
And
turned them back
again.
V
The
three blind
sisters,
(Hope
is not cold)
The
three blind
sisters
Light
their lamps of
gold.
Up
the tower go they,
(They
and you and we)
Up
the tower go they
To
wait the seventh
day.
Ah,
saith one,
turning,
(Still
let us hope)
Ah,
saith one, turning,
I
hear our lamps
burning….
Ah,
the second saith,
(They
and you and we)
Ah,
the second saith,
'Tis
the king's tread.
Nay,
the holiest saith,
(Still
let us hope)
Nay,
the holiest saith,
But
our light is dead.
There
came one here to say,
(O
child, I am afraid!)
There
came one here to say
'Twas
time to haste away. . . .
A
burning lamp I bore,
(O
child, I am afraid!)
A
burning lamp I bore,
And
went upon my way!
At
the first door,
(O
child, I am afraid!)
At
the first door
The
flame shook sore. . . .
Then,
at the second,
(O
child, I am afraid!)
Then,
at the second,
The
flame spoke and beckoned. . . .
The
third door is wide,
(O
child, but this is fear!)
The
third door is wide,
And
the flame has died!
Orlamonde
had seven daughters:
When
the fairy died
The
seven maids, the seven daughters,
Sought
to win outside.
Then
they lit their seven lamps;
Through
all the towers they sought;
They
opened full four hundred chambers;
The
day, they found it not.
They came to the echoing
caverns deep;
Down,
tho' the air was cold,
They
went, and in a stubborn door
Found
a key of gold.
They
see the ocean through the chinks;
They
fear to die outside;
They
beat on the unmoving door
They
dare not open wide.
She
had three crowns of gold:
To
whom did she give the three?
One
she gave to her parents dear,
And
they have bought three reeds of gold,
And
kept her till the spring was near.
And
one to those that loved her well:
And
they have bought three nets of gold,
And
kept her till the autumn fell.
And
one she gave to those she bore,
And
they have bought three gyves of iron,
To
chain her till the winter's o'er.
IX
Toward
the castle she made her way,
(Hardly
yet was the sun on the sea)
Toward
the castle she made her way;
Knight
looked at knight and looked away;
The
women had never a word to say.
She
came to rest before the door,
(Hardly
yet was the sun on the sea)
She
came to rest before the door;
They
heard the queen as she paced the floor,
And
the king that asked her what would she.
"What
do you seek, O where do you go?
(Have
a care, it is hard to see)
What
do you seek, O where do you go?
Doth
one await you there below?"
But
never a word, a word spake she.
Down
she went to the
one unknown,
(Have
a care, it is
hard to see)
Down
she went to the
one unknown,
And
round the queen
her arms were thrown;
Never
a word did
either say;
Without
a word they
went their way.
The
king wept by the
open door,
(Have
a care, it is
hard to see)
The
king wept by the
open door;
They
heard the
footsteps of the queen,
And
the fall of the
leaves where she had been.
Her
lover went his
way,
(I
heard the gate)
Her
lover went his
way,
Yet
she was gay.
When
he came again,
(I
heard the lamp)
When
he came again,
Another
made the
twain.
And
the dead I met,
(I
heard her spirit
cry)
And
the dead I met,
She
who waits him yet.
Mother,
mother, do you
not hear?
Mother,
they come;
there is news to tell!
–
Give me your
hands, my daughter dear:
'Tis
but a ship that
saileth well.
Mother
dear, have a
care, give heed!
–They
go, my
daughter, away they speed.
Mother,
the danger is
sore, alas!
–
Child, my
child, it will quickly pass.
Mother,
mother, She
draweth near!
–
It is down in
the harbour, daughter dear.
Mother,
mother, She
opens the door!
–
Child, they
go, to return no more.
Mother,
She enters! I
am afraid!
–
Child, they
now have the anchor weighed.
Mother,
I hear Her
speaking low.
–
Child, my
child, it is they that go.
Mother,
She makes the
stars go dark!
–
Child, 'tis
the sails of a shadowy bark.
Mother,
She knocks at
the casement still!
–
Child, maybe
it is fastened ill. . . .
Mother,
mother, my
sight grows dim. . . .
–
Child, they
sail for the open sea.
On
every hand I can
hear but Him. . . .
–
O child, what
is it, and who is He?
Now
your lamps are all
alight,
The
sun's in the
garden on every side
–
Now your lamps
are all alight;
The
sun through every
chink is bright:
Open
the doors on the
garden wide!
The
keys of the doors
are lost one and all,
We
must be patient
whate'er befall;
The
keys they fell
from the tower on high.
We
must be patient
whate'er befall,
Wait
and wait as the
days go by.
The
days to be will
open the doors.
The
keys are safe in
the forest wide.
The
forest blazes on
every side;
The
light of the dying
leafage pours
Blazing
bright beneath
the doors.
The
days to be already
ail,
The
days to be they
fear and fail,
The
days to be will
never come;
For
day by day will
die as we,
Even
as we, in this
our tomb.
Sisters,
sisters,
thirty years
I
sought where
he might be;
Thirty
years I sought
for him:
Never
did I
see.
Thirty
years the way I
trod;
Long
the road
and hot;
Sisters,
he was
everywhere,
He
who yet is
not.
Sisters,
sad the hour
and late.
My
sandal's
thongs unpick.
Even
as I the evening
dies,
And
my soul is
sick.
You whose
years
are seventeen,
Forth
and seek
him
too;
Sisters,
sisters, take
my staff,
Seek
the whole
world through.
There
were three
sisters fain to die!
Her
crown of gold each
putteth on,
And
forth to seek
their death they're gone.
They
wandered to the
forest forth:
"Give
us our death, O
forest old,
For
here are our three
crowns of gold."
The
forest broke into
a smile,
And
kisses gave to
each twice twain,
That
showed them all
the future plain.
There
were three
sisters fain to die:
They
wandered forth to
seek the sea:
They
found it after
summers three.
"Give
us our death,
thou ocean old,
For
here are our three
crowns of gold."
Then
the ocean began
to weep:
Three
hundred kisses
it gave the three,
And
all the past was
plain to see.
There
were three
sisters fain to die:
To
find the city they
sought awhile;
They
found it midmost
of an isle.
"Give
us our death,
thou city old,
For
here are our three
crowns of gold."
The
city opened then
and there,
And
covered them with
kisses dear
That
showed them all
the present clear.
CANTICLE
OF THE VIRGIN
IN "SISTER BEATRICE"1
I
hold, to every sin,
To
every soul that
weeps,
My
hands with pardon
filled
Out
of the starry
deeps.
No
sin is there that
lives
When
love hath vigil
kept;
No
soul is there that
mourns
When
love but once
hath wept.
And
tho' on many paths
Of
earth love lose its
way,
Its
tears will find me
out
And
shall not go
astray.
1 First
published
in "Sister Beatrice,"
the
English version of which, by the
present
translator, was published, with
"Ardiane
and Barbe Bleue," by the present publishers, in 1902.
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