Then Adam shrieked like a soul in hell; the red blood left his face
And he reeled away in a drunken run through the screaming market place;
And close behind, the dead man came with a face like a mummy's mask,
And the dead joints cracked and the stiff legs creaked with their unwonted task.
Men fled before the flying twain or shrank with bated breath,
And they saw on the face of Adam Brand the seal set there by death.
He reeled on buckling legs that failed, yet on and on he fled;
So through the shuddering market-place, the dying fled the dead.
At the riverside fell Adam Brand with a scream that rent the skies;
Across him fell John Farrel's corpse, nor ever the twain did rise.
There was no wound on Adam Brand but his brow was cold and damp,
For the fear of death had blown out his life as a witch blows out a lamp.
His lips were writhed in a horrid grin like a fiend's on Satan's coals,
And the men that looked on his face that day, his stare still haunts their souls.
Such was the fate of Adam Brand, a strange, unearthly fate;
For stronger than death or hempen noose are the fires of a dead man's hate.
The Deed Beyond The Deed
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Rane o’ the Sword, wha’ men misca’ the fool,
Has turned his galley to the unco’ lands;
Now in the dragon girten prow he stands.
Billows abune the token o’ his rule,
Great fold on fold, the rover’s banner spread.
The hard neives dirl the ash ayint the tide
The war shields klish amain alang the side,
The red moon hammers dune a sea o’ red.
Rane o’ the Sword, nae sairly do we greet
To see your taps’yls scuddin’ dune the west,
Nae muckle love bear we for a’ your breed—
Bluid willna dry like water—yet ’tis meet
We gi’ ye due, that curious unrest
Wha’ gars ye seek the deed beyant the deed.
TRANSLATION:
Rane of the Sword, whom men miscall the fool,
Has turned his galley to the unknown lands;
Now in the dragon-girded prow he stands.
Billows above the token of his rule,
Great fold on fold, the rover’s banner spread.
The hard hands thrust the oars against the tide
The war shields thrum their might along the side,
The red moon hammers down a sea of red.
Rane of the Sword, we sorely weep with fright
To see your topsails scudding down the west,
No great love do we bear for all your breed—
Blood will not dry like water—yet, ’tis right
We give you due, that curious unrest
That goads you seek the deed beyond the deed.
Deeps
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There is a cavern in the deep
Beyond the sea-winds brawl;
Where the hills of the sea slope high and steep,
And dragons sleep
And serpents creep
There is a cavern in the deep
Where strange sea-creatures crawl.
Dreamer
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I live in a world apart
A world that has no link with this drab earth.
A vague, melodious world, where breezes start
Soft joys and gay-hued mirth.
Dreaming
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The Dreamer dreamed in the shade of the vine,
The Seeker rode in the sun;
They are parted by winds and lands and brine,
But their lives cling and their souls twine
Till the last of the day is done.
For the Seeker dreams when the cold stars shine,
And the Dreamer seeks for his soul in wine
And dream and seeking must meet and twine
Or ever the day is done.
Dreaming on Downs
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I marched with Alfred when he thundered forth
To break the crimson standards of the Dane;
I saw the galleys looming in the north
And heard the oar-locks and the sword's refrain.
And far across the pleasant Wessex downs
The chanting of the spearmen broke the lyre,
Till where the black thorn forest grimly frowns
We sang a song of doom and steel and fire.
Death rode his pale horse through the dreaming sky
All through that long red summer afternoon,
And night and silence fell, when silently
The dead men lay beneath a cold white moon.
Now Alfred sleeps with all the swords of yore,
(But o'er the downs a brooding shadow glides)
Untrampled flowers dream along the shore,
And Guthrum's galleys rust beneath the tides.
Now underneath this drowsy tree I lie
And turn old dreams upon my lazy knees,
Till ghostly giants fill the sumer sky
And phantom oars awake the sleeping seas.
Dreams of Nineveh
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Silver bridge in a broken sky,
Golden fruit on a withered bough,
Red-lipped slaves that the ancients buy—
What are the dreams of Nineveh now?
Ghostly hoofs in the brooding night
Beat the bowl of the velvet stars.
Shadows of spears when the moon is white
Cross the sands with ebony bars.
But not the shadows that brood her fall
May check the sweep of the desert fire,
Nor a dead man lift up a crumbling wall,
Nor a spectre steady a falling spire.
Death fires rise in the desert sky
Where the armies of Sargon reeled;
And though her people still sell and buy,
Nineveh's doom is set and sealed.
Silver mast with a silken sail,
Sapphire seas 'neath a purple prow,
Hawk-eyed tribes on the desert trail—
What are the dreams of Nineveh now?
Drummings on an Empty Skull
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This is the word that Jacob
Meeting his death in Egypt
Laid on the brow of Judah,
Lion of all the earth:
