Of wight waylaid of faery, and of enchantments enchainéd,
What singeth one unto the height of heaven?
“This one boldly hath battled and this refrainéd”;
O easily maketh a little man
The lay of a lounging courtesan!
But for a bewitching and a spell must seemly song be given.
The long and lingering eventide
In the wood did gild the grass;
And she, like to a shining bride,
To a moveless flame did pass,
And dead leaves were fashioned brass.
Thou Perkin, as men called thee,
Fully well didst know thy doom;
As stilly and as silently
As eglantine doth hold her bloom
Goldenly upon a gloom:
And with foreknowledge didst go
To the castles of thy kin,
That for lessening of their woe
Have no soul and little sin;
Prithee keep thou safe within!
Free of murder and of malice
Flowereth the common weed;
From a featly fashioned chalice
Faery foxglove sows her seed,
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And is a royal herb indeed:
Didst thou of her purple reap,
That thou mightest never turn
To a warmly thatchéd sleep
And the cottage hearths that burn
Peat and furze and forest fern?
Ay perchance; what is a fire
Made of turves, of heavy smoke,
Smouldering in a cabined byre,
To the fires of faery folk
That the husbandmen invoke?
Pacing down the alleys green
Thou didst go, and now art lost
The beeches and the briers between,
And the dewy ways are crossed
Only by thy gentle ghost.
The large-eyed cony followeth
Where do walk thy quiet feet,
And unfearing of her death
Culleth her accustomed meat
In the even passing sweet.
The cloud beside the hill doth stand;
Thou beyond them both dost dwell
In a far and fairy land;
And yet dost sit beside the well
Darkling in the dimpled dell.
Thou dost turn thy wildling look
Gravely on a passing face;
Never man, in any book,
That most still regard may trace;
Stay thou thus a little space
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Blessing all the neighbour place.
1915.
