Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/197

Rh "Here let us halt," said Merlin then; and she

Nodded, and tied her palfrey to a tree.

They sate them down together, and a sleep

Fell upon Merlin, more like death, so deep.

Her finger on her lips, then Vivian rose,

And from her brown-locked head the wimple throws,

And takes it in her hand, and waves it over

The blossomed thorn-tree and her sleeping lover.

Nine times she waved the fluttering wimple round,

And made a little plot of magic ground.

And in that daisied circle, as men say,

Is Merlin prisoner till the judgment-day;

But she herself whither she will can rove—

For she was passing weary of his love.

SAINT BRANDAN.

sails the northern main;

The brotherhoods of saints are glad.

He greets them once, he sails again;

So late! such storms! The saint is mad!

He heard, across the howling seas,

Chime convent-bells on wintry nights;

He saw, on spray-swept Hebrides,

Twinkle the monastery-lights;

But north, still north, Saint Brandan steered;

And now no bells, no convents more!

The hurtling Polar lights are neared,

The sea without a human shore.