(Sweet fruits are sair to gather) "That the straik of his hand should raise his dead?" And the wind wears owre the heather. "O weel is me for the sign I take" (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) "That now I may die for my auld sin's sake." And the wind wears owre the heather. "For the dead was in wait now fifty year,". (Sweet fruits are sair to gather) "And now I shall die for his blood's sake here," And the wind wears owre the heather. ----A. C. Swinburne. THE BALLAD OF DEAD MEN'S BAY [Illustration: 0056] |The sea swings owre the slants of sand, All white with winds that drive., The sea swirls up to the still dim strand, Where nae man comes alive. At the grey soft edge of the fruitless surf A light flame sinks and springs; At the grey soft rim of the flowerless turf A low flame leaps and clings. What light is this on a sunless shore, What gleam on a starless sea? Was it earth's or hell's waste womb that bore Such births as should not be? As lithe snakes turning, as bright stars burning, They bicker and beckon and call; As wild waves churning, as wild winds yearn- ing, They flicker and climb and fall. A soft strange cry from the landward rings-- "What ails the sea to shine?" A keen sweet note from the spray's rim springs-- "What fires are these of thine?" "A soul am I that was born on earth For ae day's waesome span: Death bound me fast on the bourn of birth, Ere I were christened man. "A light by night, I fleet and fare Till the day of wrath and woe; On the hems of earth and the skirts of air Winds hurl me to and fro." "O well is thee, though the weird be strange That bids thee flit and flee; For hope is child of the womb of change, And hope keeps watch with thee. "When the years are gone, and the time is come God's grace may give thee grace; And thy soul may sing, though thy soul were dumb, And shine before God's face. "But I, that lighten and revel and roll With the foam of the plunging sea, No sign is mine of a breathing soul That God should pity me. "Nor death, nor heaven, nor hell, nor birth Hath part in me nor mine: Strong lords are these of the living earth And loveless lords of thine. "But I that know nor lord nor life More sure than storm or spray, Whose breath is made of sport and strife, Whereon shall I find stay?" "And wouldst thou change thy doom with me, Full fain with thee would I: For the life that lightens and lifts the sea Is more than earth or sky. "And what if the day of doubt and doom Shall save nor smite not me? I would not rise from the slain world's tomb If there be no more sea. "Take he my soul that gave my soul, And give it thee to keep; And me, while seas and stars shall roll