Fragments Of Ancient Poetry, Fragment XI

Sad! I am sad indeed: nor small my
cause of woe!--Kirmor, thou hast
lost no son; thou hast lost no daughter
of beauty. Connar the valiant lives;
and Annir the fairest of maids. The
boughs of thy family flourish, O Kirmor!
but Armyn is the last of his
race.

Rise, winds of autumn, rise; blow
upon the dark heath! streams of the
mountains, roar! howl, ye tempests,
in the trees! walk through broken
clouds, O moon! show by intervals thy
pale face! bring to my mind that sad
night, when all my children fell; when
Arindel the mighty fell; when Daura
the lovely died.

Daura, my daughter! thou wert
fair; fair as the moon on the hills of
Jura; white as the driven snow; sweet as
the breathing gale. Armor renowned in
war came, and fought Daura's love; he
was not long denied; fair was the hope
of their friends.

Earch son of Odgal repined; for
his brother was slain by Armor. He
came disguised like a son of the sea:
fair was his skiff on the wave; white
his locks of age; calm his serious brow.
Fairest of women, he said, lovely daughter
of Armyn! a rock not distant in
the sea, bears a tree on its side; red
shines the fruit afar. There Armor
waiteth for Daura. I came to fetch
his love. Come, fair daughter of Armyn!

She went; and she called on Armor.
Nought answered, but the son of the
rock. Armor, my love! my love!
why tormentest thou me with fear?
come, graceful son of Arduart, come;
it is Daura who calleth thee!--Earch
the traitor fled laughing to the land.
She lifted up her voice, and cried for
her brother and her father. Arindel!
Armyn! none to relieve your Daura?

Her voice came over the sea. Arindel
my son descended from the hill;
rough in the spoils of the chace. His
arrows rattled by his side; his bow was
in his hand; five grey dogs attended
his steps. He saw fierce Earch on the
shore; he seized and bound him to an
oak. Thick fly the thongs of the hide
around his limbs; he loads the wind
with his groans.

Arindel ascends the surgy deep in
his boat, to bring Daura to the land.
Armor came in his wrath, and let fly
the grey-feathered shaft. It sung; it
sunk in thy heart, O Arindel my son!
for Earch the traitor thou diedst. What
is thy grief, O Daura, when round
thy feet is poured thy brother's blood!

The boat is broken in twain by the
waves. Armor plunges into the sea, to
rescue his Daura or die. Sudden a blast
from the hill comes over the waves.
He sunk, and he rose no more.

Alone, on the sea-beat rock, my
daughter was heard to complain. Frequent
and loud were her cries; nor
could her father relieve her. All
night I stood on the shore. All night I
heard her cries. Loud was the wind;
and the rain beat hard on the side of the
mountain. Before morning appeared,
her voice was weak. It died away, like
the evening-breeze among the grass of
the rocks. Spent with grief she expired.
O lay me soon by her side.

When the storms of the mountain
come; when the north lifts the waves
on high; I sit by the sounding shore,
and look on the fatal rock. Often by
the setting moon I see the ghosts of
my children. Indistinct, they walk in
mournful conference together. Will
none of you speak to me?--But they
do not regard their father.