"Oh, Brandan, think what grace divine, What blessing must full goodness shower, When fragment of it small, like mine, Hath such inestimable power!

"Well-fed, well-clothed, well-friended, I Did that chance act of good, that one!

Then went my way to kill and lie-- Forgot my good as soon as done.

"That germ of kindness, in the womb Of mercy caught, did not expire; Outlives my guilt, outlives my doom, And friends me in the pit of fire.

"Once every year, when carols wake, On earth, the Christmas-night's repose, Arising from the sinners' lake, I journey to these healing snows.

"I stanch with ice my burning breast, With silence balm my whirling brain.

O Brandan! to this hour of rest That Joppan leper's ease was pain."----

Tears started to Saint Brandan's eyes; He bow'd his head, he breathed a prayer-- Then look'd, and lo, the frosty skies!

The iceberg, and no Judas there!

THE NECKAN

In summer, on the headlands, The Baltic Sea along, Sits Neckan with his harp of gold, And sings his plaintive song.

Green rolls beneath the headlands, Green rolls the Baltic Sea; And there, below the Neckan's feet, His wife and children be.

He sings not of the ocean, Its sh.e.l.ls and roses pale; Of earth, of earth the Neckan sings, He hath no other tale.

He sits upon the headlands, And sings a mournful stave Of all he saw and felt on earth Far from the kind sea-wave.

Sings how, a knight, he wander'd By castle, field, and town-- But earthly knights have harder hearts Than the sea-children own.

Sings of his earthly bridal-- Priest, knights, and ladies gay.

"--And who art thou," the priest began, "Sir Knight, who wedd'st to-day?"--

"--I am no knight," he answered; "From the sea-waves I come."-- The knights drew sword, the ladies scream'd, The surpliced priest stood dumb.

He sings how from the chapel He vanish'd with his bride, And bore her down to the sea-halls, Beneath the salt sea-tide.

He sings how she sits weeping 'Mid sh.e.l.ls that round her lie.

"--False Neckan shares my bed," she weeps; "No Christian mate have I."--

He sings how through the billows He rose to earth again, And sought a priest to sign the cross, That Neckan Heaven might gain.

He sings how, on an evening, Beneath the birch-trees cool, He sate and play'd his harp of gold, Beside the river-pool.

Beside the pool sate Neckan-- Tears fill'd his mild blue eye.

On his white mule, across the bridge, A ca.s.sock'd priest rode by.

"--Why sitt'st thou there, O Neckan, And play'st thy harp of gold?

Sooner shall this my staff bear leaves, Than thou shalt Heaven behold."--

But, lo, the staff, it budded!

It green'd, it branch'd, it waved.

"--O ruth of G.o.d," the priest cried out, "This lost sea-creature saved!"

The ca.s.sock'd priest rode onwards, And vanished with his mule; But Neckan in the twilight grey Wept by the river-pool.

He wept: "The earth hath kindness, The sea, the starry poles; Earth, sea, and sky, and G.o.d above-- But, ah, not human souls!"

In summer, on the headlands, The Baltic Sea along, Sits Neckan with his harp of gold, And sings this plaintive song.

THE FORSAKEN MERMAN

Come, dear children, let us away; Down and away below!

Now my brothers call from the bay, Now the great winds sh.o.r.eward blow, Now the salt tides seaward flow; Now the wild white horses play, Champ and chafe and toss in the spray.

Children dear, let us away!

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 (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; 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 grey church on the windy sh.o.r.e; Then come down!

She will not come though you call all day; Come away, come away!

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, The far-off sound of a silver bell?

Sand-strewn caverns, cool and deep, Where the winds are all asleep; Where the spent lights quiver and gleam, Where the salt weed sways in the stream, Where the sea-beasts, ranged all round, Feed in the ooze of their pasture-ground; Where the sea-snakes coil and twine, Dry their mail and bask in the brine; Where great whales come sailing by, Sail and sail, with unshut eye, Round the world for ever and aye?

When did music come this way?

Children dear, was it yesterday?

Children dear, was it yesterday (Call yet once) that she went away?

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; She said: "I must go, for my kinsfolk pray In the little grey church on the sh.o.r.e to-day.

'Twill be Easter-time in the world--ah me!

And I lose my poor soul, Merman! here with thee."

I said: "Go up, dear heart, through the waves; Say thy prayer, and come back to the kind sea-caves!"

She smiled, she went up through the surf in the bay.

Children dear, was it yesterday?