Classic Poem

Manannan , god of the winds and the sea,
Flat on his back on the sands lay he,
Trolling a song right merrily:
“Come hither, come hither, thou little wind,”
(Such and such was the song he sang)
“Come hither; I've something for thee to find.”
(Oh! how mellow the echoes rang!)
“Find me a wave with a sea-green base,
A rollicking, wandering, roisterous wave,
With a crest o' foam, and a laughing face,
A bit o' blue where the wind-flaws part,
And a sunbeam pricking his homeless heart—
Ho! but I love the knave!”

Manannan, god of the winds and the sea,
Half of a summer's day sang he;
Till the croon of the waves, and the warm sunshine,
Had wooed him to sleep; and so, in fine,
He slept beside the sea.

Then came a man of the Island race,
Seeking his love by cliff and scaur;
And a mermaid rose to his embrace
Up from the foam of the bar.
Up from the foam of the bar came she,
Clad in a robe of rainbow mist,

That her clammy tail he should not see:
For he thought her a maid of the earth, did he;
And she waited to be kissed.
Oh! when he found her among the rocks,
Fair and fair was she indeed!
With her foam-white breasts, and her tumbled locks
Falling adown, falling adown,
Over her face and her sea-spray gown,
And her girdle of brown sea-weed.
Close and close did he fold her fast,
And he kissed her lips so warm and red—
But over their heads a lone gull passed;
And she sighed for a joy that could not last,
And she wished that she were dead.

He heard the sigh, and bye and bye,
He sighed himself, he knew not why,
And all at once he said:
“Come away, come away, come—
Away and away with me,
For I hear in my heart the hum
Of the sweet-cloyed homing bee
Too long, too long, have we gone our ways,
When the passionate eve was sped;
Too long, too long, have we spent our days
In the gloom of a nameless dread,
Lest one should come, and the other fail—
Lest one should come and wearily wait,
And the other be knocking at Heaven's gate,
And all the sea should wail.
But come, come, come,
Home to my smouldering hearth:
Love shall kindle it into a flame
Warm to the ends of the earth.
These are yours if you will but come,
Share my portion, and take my name:
Love, and peace, and a home.”

“Alas! alas! that cannot be,”
She cried in a woeful agony.
“He who weds me loves and loves
Whithersoever his fancy roves.
Oh! woe is me! no home I bring
To him who gives me a marriage ring.
The quiet of all his days shall cease—
Oh! wed not me if you look for peace.
An you wed with me, this shall you have:
Peace as the peace of the restless wave;
An you wed with me, this shall you find:
A love as light as the wandering wind;
This shall you know, an you wed with me:
The homelessness of the sea.”

“What! say you so? and say you so?
You speak in riddles I cannot read—
Or else you are no woman, I trow!”
“A woman am I, indeed.
And woe is me for my woman's heart,
That you should ask what I cannot give!
And woe is me! that we two should part,
Forever apart to live!
But I must go to my home below,
And you to your lone hearthside:
The little mermaidens will cheer my woe,
And you will a kindlier passion know
In the arms of a warmer bride.”
She reared her up on her finny tail,
And flung her rainbow garment wide
He shuddered cold, his face grew pale,
He started from her side.

At that she laughed a bitter laugh:
“Farewell! I knew how this would be;
And here I strike Love's epitaph,
That is for you and me.”
She clasped aloft her lily hands,
Her strong tail smote the wave-lapped sands,
She plunged beneath the sea.

Manannan, tho' sound asleep he lay,
Had heard these lovers—for that's a way
That the great gods have;—and ere the spray
Of the mermaid's dive had touched the bay,
He roused himself, assumed a youth,
Mourned with the man for his love uncouth,
Who told his tale to this stranger-friend
Right readily. When he reached the end:
“'T is well,” said the god, “now list to me—
Forget this woman from out the sea,
And seek a bride that is meet for thee.
Her shalt thou find among the heather,
Singing alone in a windy weather,
And fair and white is she
But now, for that I know thy pain,
And lest thou sorrow so in vain
For thy lost love, the ocean's daughter,
Take thou a gift from the god of water.”
He caught a wave with a sea-green base,
A rollicking, wandering, roisterous wave,
With a crest o' foam, and a laughing face;
He plucked the good-man's dress apart,
And he threw it into his throbbing heart—
Oh! what a gift he gave!

Home went the man, no longer sad,
And straightway did as the great god bade
He sought his love on the purple heather,
And found her there in a windy weather,
Singing her song alone.
He wooed her, fair in her innocence,
Wooed her, and won her, and bore her thence,
Home to his own hearthstone.
But nevermore, till the day he died,
Was the soul of this man satisfied:
For ever he felt in his restless blood
The surge of the deep sea's rolling flood;
And evermore would his fancy roam
With the wild wind out to the driving foam;
And he loved he knew not how nor why,
With a love that changed, but could not die

And still the gift that the great god gave
Leaps in the veins of his children brave:
By day and by night they may not flee
The spell of the ocean's mystery;
By day and by night a love they know,
Tameless, and changeable, as tho'
The wandering wind had schooled it so;
No peace have they by night or day,
For a restless longing calls them aye,
From the sheltered cove and the quiet bay,
Out where the stormy tempests meet,
To the drifting spray, and the driving sleet—
And they cannot choose but go.
With a laugh they claim their heritage,
A laugh of something more than mirth,
That bravely rings across the sea,
And challenges eternity
For the home they lack on earth—
And all who hear, from age to age,
By this sign know their birth.

They are the children of the wave,
The wondrous gift Manannan gave;
And still they sing, as then he sang,
When the hollow caves in answer rang:
“Give us a wave with a sea-green base,
A rollicking, wandering, roisterous wave,
With a crest o' foam, and a laughing face,
A bit o' blue where the wind-flaws part,
And a sun-beam pricking his homeless heart—
Ho! but we love the knave!”

So, the sea in their blood cries out to the Sea;
And they serve the wanton right loyally:
Whether she smiles on their devotion,
Cradling them with a slumbrous motion,
Or whether she storms, and wrecks, and slaughters,
It matters not to the Clan of the Waters.