nor ever saw thy darkling grot.
O Corrigan! 'twas not for thee
I hither came a-hunting free!"
"How darest, then, my water wan
to trouble thus, or look me on?
For this of least I claim my fee,
if ever thou wouldst wander free.
With love thou shall me here requite,
for here to long and sweet the night;
in druery dear thou here shall deal,
in bliss more deep than mortals feel."
"I gave no love. My love is wed;
my wife now lieth in child-bed,
and I curse the beast that cheated me
and drew me to this dell to thee."
Her smiling ceased, and slow she said:
"Forget thy wife; for thou shall wed
anew with me, or stand as stone
and wither lifeless and alone,
as stone beside the fountain stand
forgotten in Broceliande."
"I will not stand here turned to stone;
but I will leave thee cold, alone,
and I will ride to mine own home
and the waters blest of Christendome."
"But three days then and thou shall die;
In three days on thy bier lie!"
"In three days I shall live at ease,
and die but when it God doth please
in eld, or in some time to come
in the brave wars of Christendom."
In Britain's land beyond the waves
are forests dim and secret caves;
in Britain's land the breezes bear
the sound of bells along the air
to mingle with the sound of seas
for ever moving in the trees.
The wandering way was long and wild;
and hastening home to wife and child
at last the hunter heard the knell
at morning of the sacring-bell;
escaped from thicket and from fen
at last he saw the tilth of men;
the hoar and houseless hills he passed,
and weary at his gates him cast.
"Good steward, if thou love me well,
bid make my bed! My heart doth swell;
my limbs are numb with heavy sleep,
and drowsy poisons in them creep.
All night, as in a fevered maze,
I have ridden dark and winding ways."
To bed they brought him and to sleep:
in sunless thickets tangled deep
he dreamed, and wandering found no more
the garden green, but on the shore
the seas, were moaning in the wind;
a face before him leered and grinned:
"Now it is earned, come bring to me
my fee," a voice said, "bring my feel"
Beside a fountain falling cold
the Corrigan now shrunk and old
was sitting singing; in her claw
a comb of bony teeth he saw,
with which she raked her tresses grey,
but in her other hand there lay
a phial of glass with water filled
that from the bitter fountain spilled.
At eve he waked and murmured: "Ringing
of bells within my ears, and singing,
a singing is beneath the moon.
Grieve not my wife! Grieve not Itroun!
My death is near–but do not tell,
though I am wounded with a spell!
But two days more, and then I die–
and I would have had her sweetly lie
and sweet arise; and live yet long,
and see our children hale and strong."
His words they little understood,
but cursed the fevers of the wood,
and to their lady no word spoke.
Ere second morn was old she woke,
and to her women standing near
gave greeting with a merry cheer:
"Good people, lo! the morn is bright!
Say, did my lord return ere night,
and tarries now with hunting worn?"
"Nay, lady, he came not with the morn;
but ere men candles set on board,
thou wilt have tidings of thy lord;
or hear his feet to thee returning,
ere candles in the eve are burning."
Ere the third morn was wide she woke,
and eager greeted them, and spoke:
"Behold the morn is cold and grey,
and why is my lord so long away?
I do not hear his feet returning
neither at evening nor at morning"
"We do not know, we cannot say"
they answered and they turned away.
Her gentle babes in swaddling white,
now seven days had seen the light,
and she arose and left her bed,
and called her maidens and she said:
"My lord must soon return. Come, bring
my fairest raiment, stone on ring,
and pearl on thread; for him 'twill please
to see his wife abroad at ease."
She looked from window tall and high,
and felt a breeze go coldly by;
she saw it pass from tree to tree;
the clouds were laid from hill to sea.
She heard no horn and heard no hoof,
but rain came pattering on the roof;
in Brittany she heard the waves
on sounding shore in hollow caves.
The day wore on till it was old;
she heard the bells that slowly tolled.
"Good folk, why do they mourning make?
In tower I hear the slow bells shake,
and Dirige the white priests sing.
Whom to the churchyard do they bring?"
"A man unhappy here there came
a while agone. His horse was lame;
sickness was on him, and he fell
before our gates, or so they tell.
Here he was harboured, but to-day
he died, and passeth now the way
we all must go, to church to lie
on bier before the altar high."
She looked upon them, dark and deep,
and saw them in the shadows weep.
"Then tall, and fair, and brave was he,
or tale of sorrow there must be
concerning him, that still ye keep,
if for a stranger thus ye weep!
What know ye more? Ah, say! ah, say!"
They answered not, and turned away.
"Ah me," she said, "that I could sleep
this night, or least that I could weep!"
But all night long she tossed and turned,.
and in her limbs a fever burned:
and yet when sudden under sun