As the wavering mist, or ever he wist,
All under the mighty charm—
And like a wraith of wind and breath
She vanished from out his arm.
It was the mermaid fair and fell
That sang by the good ship’s side
“Ho, ho, for the kiss of the salt sea-spray,
And the toss o’ the turning tide!”
Alone in the mead the maiden stood
Like one in a waking dream;
She saw the sail wind in and out
Along the level stream;
Like wan marsh-fire were the shields that shone
Afar in the faint moonbeam.
“Oh the gulls fly out with the turning tide
And cry across the land,
Each to each in an alien speech
That I fain would understand.”
When days were done and years came on,
Her sire did speak and say:
“Let bells be rung and Mass be sung
For a blithesome bridal-day!”
“Oh sweeter to me the wind from sea
That whispers among the reeds,
Than the wooing words of a bridegroom blithe,
Or the tramp of the festal steeds!”
Up and spake the groom so gay:
“Come, pour the red, red wine!
Play up, play up, ye minstrel men,
To cheer this bride o’ mine!
“For the evening-star, like a bridal lamp,
Over the tower doth stand;
While thin and pale as a wedding-veil
The mist steals o’er the land.”
She let the golden cup fall down,
And stared as she were wood;
“Oh is it wine ye pour for me,
Or a beaker of red, red blood?
“Like a dirge for the dead is the music glad
That the minstrels play so loud;
And the mist that’s pale as a bridal-veil
Is white as a waiting shroud!”