William Motherwell

“ Lash on, ye rains, and pour your tide of might
Unceasingly and strong, and blench the Earth's
Green mantle with your floods: Suddenly swell
The brawling torrent in the sleep-locked night,
That it may deluge the subjacent plain,
And spread destruction where security
Had fondly built its faith, and knelt before
The altar of its refuge—Sweep ye down
Palace and mansion, hall and lofty tower,
And creeping shed, into one common grave! ”

“ Where, bathed in beauty, floats the enraptured soul:
Now borne on the translucent deep, it skirts
Some dazzling bank of amaranthine flowers,
Now on a couch of odours cast supine,
It pants beneath o'erpowering redolence:—
Buoyant anon on a rejoicing surge,
It heaves, on tides tumultuous, far aloft,
Until it verges on the cope of heaven,
Whence issued, in their unity of joy,
The anthems of the earth-creating Morn:
Yielding again to an entrancing slumber,
In sweet abandonment, it glideth on
To amber caves and emerald palaces ”

“ That each pure joy-fount loved of yore, I yet delight to drink;—
Leaf, blossom, blade, hill, valley, stream, the calm unclouded sky,
Still mingle music with my dreams as in the days gone by.
When summer's loveliness and light fall round me dark and cold,
I'll bear indeed life's heaviest curse,—a heart that hath waxed old! ”

“ Our gude schippe is a shapely schippe—
A shapely and a stronge—
Our hearts sang to our noble schippe,
As she careered along!
And fear ye not my sturdy mates
Though sayles and masts be riven—
We know, while drifting o'er the deep,
Above there's still a haven!
Though sorely we're benighted upon the weltering foam,
The sun may rise upon the morn and guide us to a home! ”

“ And thus it will be with the love-stricken maid,
That loveth the Spirits of Light and Shade,
And whose thoughts commune with the spirits that write
The blue book of heaven with words of light.
And who bend down in love for her,
From their stately domes on high,
To teach her each bright character
That gleameth in her eye,
When the solemn night unrols
The vast map of the world of souls.
Oh, extacy! rapt extacy!
For a poor maiden of earth like me;
To have and hold
The spirits who shine like molten gold,
Eternally.
Beautiful Spirits! flee me not ”

“ Is gone, old Cruxtoun! Ever, ever gone!
Here hast thou stood
In nakedness and sorrow, roofless, lone,
For many a weary year—and to the storm
Hast bared thy wasted form—
Braving destruction, in the attitude
Of reckless desolation. Like to one
Who in this world no longer may rejoice,
Who watching by Hope's grave
With stern delight, impatient is to brave
The worst of coming ills—So, Cruxtoun! ”

“ Harald uplifts the sign of power
Which rules the battle-field!"
So cries the Death-doomed on the red strand of slaughter
While the helmets of heroes like anvils are ringing.
XII.
On rolled the Northmen's war, above
The Raven Standard flew,
Nor tide nor tempest ever strove
With vengeance half so true.
'Tis Harald—'tis the Sire-bereaved—
Who goads the dread career,
And high amid the flashing storm
The flag of Doom doth rear. ”

“ And thoughts of worthless worldlings, which doth swell
With soft emotion underneath its cover,
And speaks unto the keen-eyed conscious lover
Thoughts, feelings, sympathies, tongue ne'er could teft?
Sing'st thou of arms—of glory in the field—
Where patriots meet in death's embrace,
To reap high honours where the clanging shield
And gleaming spear—the swayful ponderous mace,
And the shrill trumpet rings aloud its peal
Of martial music furious and strong;
Where ardent souls together throng ”

“ Well, well! adieu's soon spoken,
'Tis but a parting phrase,
Yet said, I fear, heart-broken
We'll live our after days!
Thine eye no tear will shed;
Mine is as proudly dry;
But many an aching head
Is ours before we die! ”

“ The warrior of the land may back the wild horse, in his pride;
But a fiercer steed we dauntless breast—the untamed ocean tide;
And a nobler tilt our bark careers, as it quells the saucy wave,
While the Herald storm peals o'er the deep the glories of the brave.
Hurrah! hurrah! the wind is up—it bloweth fresh and free,
And every cord, instinct with life, pipes loud its fearless glee ”

“ When all is hush around and above,
Then is the hour to carpe of love;
When not an eye but ours is waking,
Nor even the lightest leaflet shaking—
When, like a newly-captured bird,
The fluttering of the heart is heard ”

“ Now the winter snaw's fa'ing
On bare holm and lea;
And the cauld wind is strippin'
Ilk leaf aff the tree.
But the snaw fa's not faster,
Nor leaf disna part
Sae sune frae the bough, as
Faith fades in your heart. ”

“ For even in parting there is pleasure,
A bitter joy that wrings the soul;
And there is grief surpassing measure
That will not bide nor brook control;
And yet a formal fond-leave taking
Is wished for by a heart nigh breaking. ”

“ There is pity in man—
Is there any in him?
No! ruth were a strange guest
To Halbert the Grim.
The hardest may soften,
The fiercest repent;
But the heart of Grim Halbert
May never relent.
Death doing on earth is
For ever his cry ”

“ So proudly the Skalds raise their voices of triumph,
As the Northmen ride over the broad-bosom'd billow.
II.
Aloft, Sigurdir's battle-flag
Streams onward to the land,
Well may the taint of slaughter lag
On yonder glorious strand.
The waters of the mighty deep,
The wild birds of the sky,
Hear it like vengeance shoreward sweep,
Where moody men must die.
The waves wax wroth beneath our keel—
The clouds above us lower,
They know the battle sign, and feel
All its resistless power! ”

“ To flap their wings, and, with a rousing din,
Cheer on the lagging morn.
Right soon the careful churle will go
To view his ripening corn;
And up, and up, in a merry row,
A thousand many-voiced birds will spring,
And in one general chorus sing
Their matins to the skies.
Then live some little while, poor sickening light,
And glad my aching eyes;
Thou wilt not die until the morrow bright
Has seen thy exequies.
Thou wilt not quit me like a thankless one,
Who, when grief closes with the fainting heart,
Doth shape his leave.
I pray thee tarry, then. Alas! thou'rt gone. ”

“ Enamoured on my theme;
But ah, that happy time hath fled,
And vanished like a dream.
Peace, thou proud heart, and prate no more,
Thy sun of joy hath set,
And dark and starless is the sky
The troubadour has met. ”

“ This midnight wind doth moan;
It stirs some chord of memory
In each dull heavy tone:
The voices of the much-loved dead
Seem floating thereupon—
All, all my fond heart cherished
Ere death had made it lone. ”

“ I kiss thee.
The smile of a maiden's eye
Soon may depart;
And light is the faith of
Fair woman's heart;
Changeful as light clouds,
And wayward as wind,
Be the passions that govern
Weak woman's mind. ”

“ When the night shadows, with the ample sweeping
Of her dark pall;
The world and all its manifold creation sleeping,
The great and small—
Will there be one, even at that dread hour, weeping
For me—for all? ”

“ Would never see, in chivalry,
Their brother's make again!
With book, and bell, and waxen light,
The mass for the dead is sung,
And thorough the night in the turret's height,
The great church-bells are rung. ”

“ Bright days, when the heart leapt like kid o'er the mountain,
And gazed on the fair fields—one full fount of feeling—
When wood and when water, flower, blossom, and small leaf,
Were robed in a sunshine that seemed everlasting ”

“ To mad me ere I die.
Dear western wind, now blowing soft
Upon my faded cheek,
Thy angel whisperings seem even now
Of Silverwood to speak;
Of streams and bowers that make man's heart
As very woman's weak. ”

“ The flowers burst round our feet,
And in the gloamin o' the wood,
The throssil whusslit sweet;
The throssil whusslit in the wood.
The burn sang to the trees,
And we with Nature's heart in tune,
Concerted harmonies ”

“ Be taught a voice so rare,
Then, every sound
That murmured round
Would whisper, "Thou art fair!"
Could winds be fraught
With pensive thought
At midnight's solemn hour,
Then every wood,
In gleeful mood,
Would own thy beauty's power! ”

“ The stars so pensively,
In their mild beauty, onward float
Through heaven's own silent sea:
My heart is in their voyaging
To realms where spirits be,
But its mate, in such wandering,
Is ever thee! ”

“ Hark to the voice of your love-craz'd maid,
Who singeth all night so merrily,
Under the cope of the huge elm tree.
The snow may fall, and the bitter wind blow,
But still with love must her heart overflow. ”

“ When the moon is silvery bright,
Then the screech owl's eerie cry
Mocks the beauties of the sky:
Tu whit, tu whoo,
Its wild halloo
Doth read a drowsy homily.
From yon old castle's chimneys tall,
The bat on leathern sail doth fall
In wanton-wise to skim the earth,
And flout the mouse that gave it birth. ”

“ Chirrup! chirrup! he upward flies,
Like holy thoughts to cloudless skies.
They lack all heart who cannot feel
The voice of heaven within them thrill,
In summer morn when mounting high
This merry minstrel sings his fill. ”

“ The darkness of a Nameless Tomb.
I am not mad, although I see
Things of no better mould
Than I myself am, greedily
In Fame's bright page enrolled,
That they may tell
The story well,
What shines may not be gold. ”

“ Proud Selim found his long-lost Zara.
They sleep—in sleep they smile and dream
Of happy days they ne'er shall number;
Their lips breathe sounds,—their spirits seem
To hold communion while they slumber. ”

“ And I never said that a landwart bouir
Should hauld my love and me.'
'And whare is that priest, my bonnie maiden,
If ane erthlie wicht is na he?'
'Oh! the wind will sough, and the sea will rair,
When weddit we twa sail be.'
'And whare is that bouir, my bonnie maiden,
If on land it sud na be?'
'Oh! my blythe bouir is low,' said the mermaiden,
'In the bonnie green howes of the sea:
My gay bouir is biggit o' the gude ships' keels,
And the banes o' the drowned at sea;
The fisch are the deer that fill my parks,
And the water waste my dourie. ”

“ Rise, lady, rise!
Rise, lady, rise,
Ere war's rude cries
Fright land and sea!
To-morrow's light sees mail-sheathed knight,
Even hapless me,
Careering through the bloody fight
Afar from thee!
Rise, lady, rise! ”

“ Till proud glows the earth, graithed in harness from heaven;
The fields flourish fragrant with summer flower blossoms;
Time robs not the earth of its brightness and braveries,
But he strips the lorn heart of the loves that it lived by. ”

“ I call it the Raven,
The wing of black night,
That shadows forth ruin
O'er islands of light:
Once more on its long deck,
Behind us the gale,
Thou shalt see how before it
Great kingdoms do quail ”

“ Though cheerless was the matin of my years,
And dim life's dawning through a vale of tears,
⁠Yet Hope, in ruth,
With smile persuasive, evermore would say—
'Live on, live on!—Expect Joy's summer day'—
⁠Vain counsel, void of truth! ”

“ Who now uprears Sigurdir's flag,
Nor shuns an early tomb?
Who shoreward through the swelling surge,
Shall bear the scroll of doom?
So shout the Skalds as the long ships are nearing
The low-lying shores of a beautiful land. ”

“ As beautiful a form and 'semblance bear?
Good friends, I say she lives! her beauty lives!
And death destroys all loveliness of hue;
And were she dead, that lustre life but gives,
From her, methinks, would have evanished too. ”

“ Friend of the Hunter,
Loved of the deer;
Brilliantly breaking
Beneath the blue sky,
Gladdening the leaflets
That tremulous sigh;
Star of my wandering,
Symbol of love,
Lead me to dream of
The Fountain above! ”

“ And I once more am free!
A single hand, a single brand,
Against uncounted foes;
A heart that's withered like a leaf,
In brooding o'er its woes,
Are surely not such deadly odds
For stout men to oppose. ”

“ When the sword-hilt's in our hand,—
Heart whole we'll part, and no whit sighe
For the fayrest of the land!
Let piping swaine, and craven wight,
Thus weepe and puling crye,
Our business is like men to fight,
And hero-like to die! ”

“ But when the moon's fair face is free,
Strange she should shine so weakly!—
Yet guided by her waning beam
His ship must swim securely—
Beneath so fair a sky as this
He'll strike his haven surely! ”

“ And pour abroad those phantasies
That spring from holiest sympathies
With Nature's moods, in this glad hour
Of silence, moonshine, beauty, power,
When the busy stir of man is gone,
And the soul is left with its God alone! ”

“ Lies hid in dimpled smiles,
But eyes so chaste and lips so sweet
Conceal not wanton wiles!
I'll trust thee, lady!—To deceive,
Or guileful tale to speak,
Was never fashioned I believe
The beauty of thy cheek! ”

“ Sing high, sing low, thou moody wind,
It skills not—for thy glee
Is ever of a fellow-kind
With mine own fantasy.
Go, sadly moan or madly blow
In fetterless free will,
Wild spirit of the clouds ! ”

“ In this disjointed scene,
The upright one, through good and ill,
Will be as he hath been.
And should a ribald multitude
Repay with hate his love,
He still can smile : man’s ways are viewed
By Him who rules above. ”

“ Banquet on loveliness that hath not died,
A beauty slumbers there as heretofore,
A soul made to be deified.
What though the rose, like coward base, hath fled
From this cold cheek; the lily still is there ”