The Pleiades
S EEST thou on high, in heaven's clear evening blue,
The Pleiades outshining;
They who, with threads of brightest silver dew,
The flowers of earth are twining?
They wander slowly on their ordered way,
With mild, fond looks, like maidens' eyes when thinking,
Until they meet the Herald of the Day,
Then smiling fade away, adown the empyrean sinking!
The bold King Hako, pride-consumed,
Sat once on Northland's throne of old.
For him seven fairest daughters bloomed,
The brightest gems his crown did hold.
Such faces, fresh as morning skies,
Such forms, without a fault or stain,
Such gentle soul-illumined eyes,
Were never seen on earth again.
Returning from the Danish fight,
The King's victorious host passed on,
But first of all in fame and might
Seven noble warriors proudly shone.
Their souls were bound in death and dearth,
By nature's sacred, holiest bands;
They were the bravest knights on earth,
The fairest chiefs of all the lands!
The King, before his palace hall,
Looked proudly from his golden chair:
Around him stood his daughters all,
With beauteous looks and modest air;
Their linen robes, so snowy white,
Were girt with golden girdles rare,
Their arms were clasped with diamonds bright,
And pearls entwined their curling hair.
Best trophies of their valiant deeds,
Each soldier bloody arms displays;
The seven brave Ritters on their steeds
Must all admire, and wondering praise.
The royal maidens upward gaze
While down the knights their glances turn;
A blush each gentle heart betrays,
The brothers' cheeks responsive burn!
Despite the warrior's glorious doom,
Despite the steel that gleams above,
Within the manliest heart will bloom,
The sweetest, tenderest flowers of love!
The beauteous maidens felt likewise
Soft cares that were till then unborn,
And gently heaved unnumbered sighs
From that fair evening till the morn!
Amid the silent garden gleams
The light of sleeping trees and flowers,
There, lost in love's delicious dreams,
They wander through the midnight hours.
No sleep through all that happy night
Seals up the brothers' watchful eyes;
Love is for them a guiding light
Which, once enkindled, never dies.
When comes the dawn on rosy wing,
The brothers don their shining steel;
They tread before the mighty king,
And at his feet respectful kneel
With manly speech and earnest eyes
They own the bliss for which they sigh,
And swear, for that belovéd prize,
To live, to combat, and to die.
With serious tone the King replies—
“You seek a boon with dangers rife;
But Beauty is the Hero's prize,
His dearest wish and aim in life.
Go, like our sires, on danger's track,
And fight with pride, and conquer power,
And let each suitor bring me back
A kingdom for a bridal dower.”
O'er each brave face the rapture glides:
“'Tis this, O King! our valour seeks;
Now guard for us our faithful brides,
For one short year and thirty weeks.
'Till then our knightly word we plight—
'Till then our promise shall remain—
Here we shall be, if in the fight
We lie not bloody, stark, and slain.”
The seven went forth with rapid pace;
The squires their pawing coursers bring;
The knights, in leaving that sweet place,
Pass by the gardens of the King:
There softly opes the garden gate—
The garden walks and bowers are seen—
Within the royal maidens wait,
With sorrowing looks and mournful mien.
When many a mild and tearful glance,
When many a faithful sigh is paid,—
When many a kiss the fond lip grants,
And many a heartfelt vow is made,—
When many a throb escapes the heart,
And many a clasp doth press the hand,—
The sorrowing knights at length depart,
And wander forth through many a land.
A year of bitter grief goes by;
Retired and sad the maidens stay;
In gazing far with tearful eye
They pass each tardy-wingéd day.
They see the starry silver light
From bud to blossom trembling creep,
But pass the silent, holy night
In boding thoughts that make them weep.”
The changeful moon doth wax and wane,
The appointed time is drawing near;
The near approach of bliss doth pain,
And thrill their hearts with hope and fear.
Down from their little chamber range
Their eyes o'er all the valley's track;
The moon and sunshine interchange,
But still the brothers come not back!
At length the latest morning glowed,
The birds sang sweet on branch and brake,
So silent lies each path and road,
Their throbbing hearts will surely break.
The morning fades, the daylight dies,
No bark is on the still sea foam;
With many a sigh they strain their eyes,
But, ah! the Knights return not home.
Within their little room they pine,
And one another's forms embrace;
In—glancing, gleams the white moonshine,
And falls upon each whiter face.
Their eyes, with weeping almost blind,
Stare through the silent dark serene;
Soon comes the early morning wind,
But still no messenger is seen.
Meanwhile came many a princely youth,
To ask the maidens from their sire;
The monarch pledged his royal truth
To serve them in their fond desire.
If on the last appointed day
Returns not back each valiant knight,
Then doth he promise yea or nay,
With them his daughter to unite.
Scarcely the dawn, with rosy flame,
Had kissed the mountain's topmost stone,
When at the King's command they came
Before their father's lofty throne:
They mildly kneel and humbly pray,
With sighs and tears that terror smothers,
At least until the close of day
That they await the Brothers.
The King replies, with look severe,
“Well, then, my word is plighted,
They must upon this day appear,
Or be for ever slighted.”
The maidens hear their settled doom,
No other word is spoken,
But back into their little room
Return again heart-broken.
And hour runs quickly after hour,
The sun still rises yonder;
And up and down, from flower to flower,
From place to place they wander.
And now the sultry noon is nigh,
The mid-day vapour burneth—
The sun is in the evening sky,
But still no Knight returneth.
When now the last faint beam of day,
Upon the wave is shining;
The maidens all their heads array;
Green wreaths of rue entwining;
And with white veils that hide the shower
Their burning eyes are weeping,
Upon the Castle's topmost tower
Their silent watch are keeping.
Thus through that long and weary night,
So look they for the Ritters;
And weep to see the crimson light
That in the Orient glitters.
Then drink they all the poison cup—
Love smiling round them hovers,
And makes each dying eye look up
Still fondly for their Lovers.
The fairest stars that deck the night
Are now that faithful seven!
They rule with mild and gentle light
All o'er the Northern Heaven.
They bathe the flowers and leaves with dew,
But find their lovers never:
They look for them from Heaven's high blue,
For ever and for ever!
The Pleiades outshining;
They who, with threads of brightest silver dew,
The flowers of earth are twining?
They wander slowly on their ordered way,
With mild, fond looks, like maidens' eyes when thinking,
Until they meet the Herald of the Day,
Then smiling fade away, adown the empyrean sinking!
The bold King Hako, pride-consumed,
Sat once on Northland's throne of old.
For him seven fairest daughters bloomed,
The brightest gems his crown did hold.
Such faces, fresh as morning skies,
Such forms, without a fault or stain,
Such gentle soul-illumined eyes,
Were never seen on earth again.
Returning from the Danish fight,
The King's victorious host passed on,
But first of all in fame and might
Seven noble warriors proudly shone.
Their souls were bound in death and dearth,
By nature's sacred, holiest bands;
They were the bravest knights on earth,
The fairest chiefs of all the lands!
The King, before his palace hall,
Looked proudly from his golden chair:
Around him stood his daughters all,
With beauteous looks and modest air;
Their linen robes, so snowy white,
Were girt with golden girdles rare,
Their arms were clasped with diamonds bright,
And pearls entwined their curling hair.
Best trophies of their valiant deeds,
Each soldier bloody arms displays;
The seven brave Ritters on their steeds
Must all admire, and wondering praise.
The royal maidens upward gaze
While down the knights their glances turn;
A blush each gentle heart betrays,
The brothers' cheeks responsive burn!
Despite the warrior's glorious doom,
Despite the steel that gleams above,
Within the manliest heart will bloom,
The sweetest, tenderest flowers of love!
The beauteous maidens felt likewise
Soft cares that were till then unborn,
And gently heaved unnumbered sighs
From that fair evening till the morn!
Amid the silent garden gleams
The light of sleeping trees and flowers,
There, lost in love's delicious dreams,
They wander through the midnight hours.
No sleep through all that happy night
Seals up the brothers' watchful eyes;
Love is for them a guiding light
Which, once enkindled, never dies.
When comes the dawn on rosy wing,
The brothers don their shining steel;
They tread before the mighty king,
And at his feet respectful kneel
With manly speech and earnest eyes
They own the bliss for which they sigh,
And swear, for that belovéd prize,
To live, to combat, and to die.
With serious tone the King replies—
“You seek a boon with dangers rife;
But Beauty is the Hero's prize,
His dearest wish and aim in life.
Go, like our sires, on danger's track,
And fight with pride, and conquer power,
And let each suitor bring me back
A kingdom for a bridal dower.”
O'er each brave face the rapture glides:
“'Tis this, O King! our valour seeks;
Now guard for us our faithful brides,
For one short year and thirty weeks.
'Till then our knightly word we plight—
'Till then our promise shall remain—
Here we shall be, if in the fight
We lie not bloody, stark, and slain.”
The seven went forth with rapid pace;
The squires their pawing coursers bring;
The knights, in leaving that sweet place,
Pass by the gardens of the King:
There softly opes the garden gate—
The garden walks and bowers are seen—
Within the royal maidens wait,
With sorrowing looks and mournful mien.
When many a mild and tearful glance,
When many a faithful sigh is paid,—
When many a kiss the fond lip grants,
And many a heartfelt vow is made,—
When many a throb escapes the heart,
And many a clasp doth press the hand,—
The sorrowing knights at length depart,
And wander forth through many a land.
A year of bitter grief goes by;
Retired and sad the maidens stay;
In gazing far with tearful eye
They pass each tardy-wingéd day.
They see the starry silver light
From bud to blossom trembling creep,
But pass the silent, holy night
In boding thoughts that make them weep.”
The changeful moon doth wax and wane,
The appointed time is drawing near;
The near approach of bliss doth pain,
And thrill their hearts with hope and fear.
Down from their little chamber range
Their eyes o'er all the valley's track;
The moon and sunshine interchange,
But still the brothers come not back!
At length the latest morning glowed,
The birds sang sweet on branch and brake,
So silent lies each path and road,
Their throbbing hearts will surely break.
The morning fades, the daylight dies,
No bark is on the still sea foam;
With many a sigh they strain their eyes,
But, ah! the Knights return not home.
Within their little room they pine,
And one another's forms embrace;
In—glancing, gleams the white moonshine,
And falls upon each whiter face.
Their eyes, with weeping almost blind,
Stare through the silent dark serene;
Soon comes the early morning wind,
But still no messenger is seen.
Meanwhile came many a princely youth,
To ask the maidens from their sire;
The monarch pledged his royal truth
To serve them in their fond desire.
If on the last appointed day
Returns not back each valiant knight,
Then doth he promise yea or nay,
With them his daughter to unite.
Scarcely the dawn, with rosy flame,
Had kissed the mountain's topmost stone,
When at the King's command they came
Before their father's lofty throne:
They mildly kneel and humbly pray,
With sighs and tears that terror smothers,
At least until the close of day
That they await the Brothers.
The King replies, with look severe,
“Well, then, my word is plighted,
They must upon this day appear,
Or be for ever slighted.”
The maidens hear their settled doom,
No other word is spoken,
But back into their little room
Return again heart-broken.
And hour runs quickly after hour,
The sun still rises yonder;
And up and down, from flower to flower,
From place to place they wander.
And now the sultry noon is nigh,
The mid-day vapour burneth—
The sun is in the evening sky,
But still no Knight returneth.
When now the last faint beam of day,
Upon the wave is shining;
The maidens all their heads array;
Green wreaths of rue entwining;
And with white veils that hide the shower
Their burning eyes are weeping,
Upon the Castle's topmost tower
Their silent watch are keeping.
Thus through that long and weary night,
So look they for the Ritters;
And weep to see the crimson light
That in the Orient glitters.
Then drink they all the poison cup—
Love smiling round them hovers,
And makes each dying eye look up
Still fondly for their Lovers.
The fairest stars that deck the night
Are now that faithful seven!
They rule with mild and gentle light
All o'er the Northern Heaven.
They bathe the flowers and leaves with dew,
But find their lovers never:
They look for them from Heaven's high blue,
For ever and for ever!
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