Send him back, with dances and drum- SERENADE. Lute! breathe thy lowest in my Lady's ear, Sing while she sleeps, “Ah! belle dame, aimez-vous ?” Till, dreaming still, she dream that I am here, And wake to find it, as my love is, true; Then, while she listens in her warm white nest, Say in slow music,-softer, tenderer yet, That lute-strings quiver when their tone's at rest, And my heart trembles when my lips are set. Stars! if my sweet love still a-dreaming lies, Kissing them very gently till she wake; And my love lasteth, though it find no tongue. Come, dear children, let us away! Down and away below! Now my brothers call from the bay, Now the great winds shoreward blow, This way, this way! Call her once before you go Call once yet! In a voice that she will know: "Margaret! Margaret!" Children's voices should be dear This way, this way! "Mother dear, we cannot stay! The wild white horses foam and fret." Margaret! Margaret! Come, dear children, come away down; Call no more! One last look at the white-wall'd town, And the little gray church on the windy shore; Then come down! She will not come though you call all day; Children dear, was it yesterday We heard the sweet bells over the bay? In the caverns where we lay, Through the surf and through the swell, Where the spent lights quiver and gleam, Children dear, was it yesterday Once she sate with you and me, On a red gold throne in the heart of the sea, And the youngest sate on her knee. She comb'd its bright hair, and she tended it well, When down swung the sound of a far-off bell. She sigh'd, she look'd up through the clear green sea; In the little gray church on the shore to-day. And I lose my poor soul, Merman! here with thee," Children dear, was it yesterday? Children dear, were we all alone? "The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan; "Long prayers," I said, "in the world they say; 'Come!" I said; and we rose in the surf through the bay. We went up the beach, by the sandy down Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the white-wall'd town; From the church came a murmur of folks at their prayers, But we stood without in the cold blowing airs. We climb'd 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: Margaret, hist! come quick, we are here! For her eyes were seal'd to the holy book! Come away, come down, call no more! Down, down, down! 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, "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, Till the spindle drops from her hand, And the whizzing wheel stands still. She steals to the windows, and looks at the sand, And her eyes are set in a stare; And anon there drops a tear, From a sorrow-clouded eye, And a heart sorrow-laden, A long, long sigh; For the cold strange eyes of a little mermaiden Come away, away, children! Come children, come down! Will hear the waves roar. The waves roar and whirl, A ceiling of amber, A pavement of pearl. |