They rang the sailor lads to guide And yet the ruddy beacon glowed: And didst thou visit him no more? 130 Thou didst, thou didst, my daughter deare ; The waters laid thee at his doore, Ere yet the early dawn was clear. Thy pretty bairns in fast embrace, That flow strewed wrecks about the grass, 136 140 To manye more than myne and mee: But each will mourn his own (she saith), 145 And sweeter woman ne'er drew breath Than my sonne's wife, Elizabeth. I shall never hear her more By the reedy Lindis shore, Čusha! Cusha! Cusha!' calling, Ere the early dews be falling; 150 I shall never hear her song, 'Cusha! Cusha!' all along Where the sunny Lindis floweth, Goeth, floweth ; From the meads where melick groweth, When the water winding down, Onward floweth to the town. I shall never see her more Where the reeds and rushes quiver, Shiver, quiver; Stand beside the sobbing river, 155 160 I shall never hear her calling, Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow; 165 Come uppe Whitefoot, come uppe Lightfoot ; Quit your pipes of parsley hollow, Hollow, hollow; Come uppe Lightfoot, rise and follow; Lightfoot, Whitefoot, From your clovers lift the head; Come uppe Jetty, follow, follow, Jetty, to the milking shed.' 363 170 175 JEAN INGELOW. THE FORSAKEN MERMAN Come, dear children, let us away: Now my brothers call from the bay; Now the wild white horses play, Champ and chafe and toss in the spray. This way, this way! 5 In a voice that she will know : Margaret! Margaret ! ' Children's voices should be dear (Call once more) to a mother's ear: Children's voices, wild with pain Surely she will come again. Call her once and come away; 'Mother dear, we cannot stay.' The wild white horses foam and fret. 10 15 20 Come, dear children, come away down! Call no more! One last look at the white-walled town, And the little grey church on the windy shore. She will not come though you call all day. Children dear, was it yesterday We heard the sweet bells over the bay? Through the surf and through the swell, Where the spent lights quiver and gleam ; ? Children dear, was it yesterday ? On a red gold throne in the heart of the sea, 25 30 35 40 4.5 50 56 She comb'd its bright hair, and she tended it well, She smiled, she went up through the surf in the bay. Children dear, was it yesterday? Children dear, were we long alone? 65 'The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan. Long prayers,' I said, 'in the world they say. Come!' I said, and we rose through the surf in the bay. We went up the beach, by the sandy down Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the white-walled town. Through the narrow paved streets, where all was still, To the little grey church on the windy hill. 71 From the church came a murmur of folk at their prayers, But we stood without in the cold blowing airs. We climbed on the graves, on the stones, worn with rains, And we gazed up the aisle through the small-leaded panes. She sate by the pillar; we saw her clear : 75 80 For her eyes were sealed to the holy book! Loud prays the priest; shut stands the door. Come away, come down, call no more! Down, down, down! 85 Down to the depths of the sea! She sits at her wheel in the humming town, Singing most joyfully. Hark, what she sings: O joy, O joy, 89 For the humming street, and the child with its toy! For the priest, and the bell, and the holy well For the wheel where I spun, And the blessed light of the sun!' And so she sings her fill, Singing most joyfully, 95 Till the shuttle falls from her hand, And the whizzing wheel stands still. She steals to the window, and looks at the sand, And over the sand at the sea; And her eyes are set in a stare ; And anon there breaks a sigh, And anon there drops a tear, And a heart sorrow-laden, A long, long sigh; 100 105 For the cold strange eyes of a little Mermaiden, And the gleam of her golden hair. Come away, away children! Come children, come down! A ceiling of amber, A pavement of pearl. Singing: ́ Here came a mortal, But faithless was she! And alone dwell for ever The kings of the sea.' But, children, at midnight, 110 115 120 125 From heaths starred with broom, And high rocks throw mildly 130 On the blanched sands a gloom; Up the still, glistening beaches, Up the creeks we will hie, |