Page:Dublin University Review vol 1 pt 1.pdf/172

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First Voice. What do you weave so fair and bright?

Second Voice. The cloak I weave of sorrow.

Oh, lovely to see in all men's sight

Shall be the cloak of sorrow,

In all men's sight.

Third Voice. What do you build with sails for flight?

Fourth Voice. A boat I build for sorrow.

O swift on the seas all day and night

Saileth the rover sorrow,

All day and night.

Fifth Voice. What do you weave with wool so white?

Sixth Voice. The sandals these of sorrow.

Soundless shall be the footfall light

In each man's ears of sorrow,

Sudden and light.

Naschina. What are the voices that in flowery ways

Have clothed their tongues with song of songless days?

Enchantress. They are the flowers' guardian sprights;

With streaming hair as wandering lights

They passed a-tip-toe everywhere,

And never heard of grief or care

Until this morn. As adder's back

The sky was banded o'er with wrack.

They were sitting round a pool,

At their feet the waves in rings

Gently shook their moth-like wings;

For there came an air-breath cool

From the ever-moving pinions

Of the happy flower minions.

But a sudden melancholy

Filled them as they sat together;

Now their songs are mournful wholly

As they go with drooping feather.

Naschina. O, Lady, thou whose vestiture of green

Is rolled as verdant smoke! O thou whose face

Is worn as though with fire. Oh, goblin queen,

Lead me, I pray thee, to the statued place!

Enchantress. Fair youth, along a wandering way

I've led thee here, and as a wheel

We turned around the place alway,

Lest on thine heart the stony seal

As on those other hearts were laid.

Behold the brazen-gated glade!

Naschina. O let me pass! the spells from off the heart

Of my sad hunter-friend will all depart

If on his lips the enchanted flower be laid;

O let me pass! [Leaning with an arm upon each gate. Enchantress.That flower none

Who seek may find, save only one,

A shepherdess long years foretold;

And even she shall never hold

The flower, save some thing be found

To die for her in air or ground.

And none there is; if such there were,

E'en then, before her shepherd hair

Had felt the island breeze, my lore

Had driven her forth, for ever more

To wander by the bubbling shore.

Laughter-lipped, but for her brain

A guerdon of deep-rooted pain,

And in her eyes a lightless stare,

For if severed from the root

The enchanted flower were,

From my wizard island lair,

And the happy wingéd day,

I, as music that grows mute,

On a girl's forgotten lute,

Pass away

Naschina. Your eyes are all a-flash. She is not here.

Enchantress. I'd kill her if she were. Nay, do not fear!

With you I am all gentleness; in truth,

There's little I'd refuse thee, dearest youth.

Naschina. It is my whim! bid some attendant sprite

Of thine cry over wold and water white,

That one shall die, unless one die for her.

'Tis but to see if anything will stir