"Light down, light down now, true Thomas, And I will show you ferlies three. "O see ye not yon narrow road, So thick beset wi' thorns and briers? "And see ye not yon braid, braid road, "And see ye not yon bonny road "But, Thomas, ye sall haud your tongue, For speak ye word in Elflyn-land, Ye'll ne'er win back to your ain countrie." O, they rade on, and farther on, And they waded rivers abune the knee; It was mirk, mirk night, there was nae starlight, Syne they came to a garden green, And she pu'd an apple frae a tree: "Take this for thy wages, true Thomas; It will give thee the tongue that can never lee." "My tongue is my ain," true Thomas he said; A gudely gift ye wad gie to me! I neither dought to buy or sell At fair or tryst where I might be. "I dought neither speak to prince or peer, Nor ask of grace from fair ladye!" "Now haud thy peace, Thomas," she said, 'For as I say, so must it be.". He has gotten a coat of the even cloth, Anonymous LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI WHAT can ail thee, knight-at-arms, The sedge has wither'd from the lake, O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, And the harvest's done. I see a lily on thy brow With anguish moist and fever dew, Fast withereth too. I met a lady in the meads. Full beautiful-a faery's child, Her hair was long, her foot was light, I made a garland for her head, I set her on my pacing steed, She found me roots of relish sweet, And honey wild, and manna dew, And sure in language strange she said"I love thee true!" She took me to her elfin grot, - And there she wept and sigh'd full sore, And there I shut her wild, wild eyes With kisses four. And there she lulled me asleep, And there I dream'dah! woe betide! The latest dream I ever dream'd On the cold hill's side. I saw pale kings and princes too, Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; They cried “La Belle Dame sans Merci Hath thee in thrall!" I saw their starved lips in the gloam, And this is why I sojourn here, Though the sedge is wither'd from the lake And no birds sing. John Keats O NIAMH H who is she, and what is she? Of shimmering moonshine, sunset flame, None knows the secret ways she came I follow her, I follow her By haunted pools with dreams astir, Of shadow-waves, where sleep Old loves, old hates, whose doom derides Vows we forgot to keep. I send my cry, I send my cry And low I hear, oh, low I hear, I stand without in dark and cold And she is - Where? Where? Where? Ethna Carbery LA SOURCE ENCHANTÉE ''ERRAIS dans la montagne un jour de chaleur Jgrande. Une source s'offrit, claire, parmi les houx. Comme les chevaliers dont parle la legende Pour boire dans ma main je me mis à genoux. 'Quelqu'une qui passait un troupeau dans la lande Me crie, mais hélas! trop tard: "Malheur à vous ! " J'avais bu, sans savoir, l'eau de Broceliande, Et je vais, depuis lors, indifférent aux choses KUBLA KHAN 'N Xanadu did Kubla Khan decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran So twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round: And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree; And here were forests ancient as the hills, Enfolding sunny spots of greenery. |