{"collection":"Northern European Mythology","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/neu/arthur/art143.htm","path":"neu/arthur/art143.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/neu/arthur/art143.htm","text":"An Arthurian Miscellany\n \n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0I.\n On the morn of sweet St. Martin\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Davie drew a hazel wand,\n And he singing came to Bala,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0With the hazel in his hand.\n \n What he sang, the cock-thrush echoed,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Some wild rhyme of Merlin's doom,\n Or the sad refrain of Rhuddlan,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Or the love of Hob and Twm.\n \n From the hill, he heard the harpers,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And the hagglers, in the town,\n And his heart leapt up to hear them,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0As he sang, and hastened down.\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0II.\n \n What cobbled ancientry is this comes coughing thro' the fair,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Davie dear?\n Like one from out the grave arisen, the grave-mould in his hair?\n \n The shepherd boys cry 'Druan!' the Bala maids 'Beware!\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Davie dear!'\n Yea sure, at sight of Davie's wand, he waits a while to stare.\n \n 'If thou'll take me where thy hazel grew,--ah, this cough has made me old!'\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Davie's told,--\n 'I'll twine thy wand with silver, and bind thy belt with gold!'\n \n Can you bear to leave untasted all the fun of Bala Fair,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Davie dear?\n 'Davie dear!' the maids keep calling. His wand leads otherwhere.\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0III.\n \n Far from Bala fair, the Lonnen\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Leans against the mountain side;\n Far above the Lonnen haystacks,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Drops the brook the hazels hide.\n \n Davie leads, the grey-man follows,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0As grey-eve, St. Martin's morn;\n While across the Lonnen haystacks,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Now the pale frost-fog is borne.\n \n Davie leads, the grey-man follows;\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And he coughs; but Davie sighs\n As they climb, and mark the night-fall;\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0With no lantern but their eyes.\n \n By the torrent, mid the hazels,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Hardly may the grey-man see,\n Groping, kneeling, there, a gravestone,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Cast with Druid charactry.\n \n Ach, he coughs; his lean long fingers\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Strain upon it, til it stirs,\n But a cry from out the torrent,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And the hazels Davie hears!\n \n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0IV.\n \n Deep as Merlin's grave, the stairway\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0That descended, gloom on gloom,\n Into darkness that no window\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Ever yet let sun illume.\n \n Davie fears, but he must follow:\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Till the darkness soars and falls,--\n Arched and groined, and looped and lifted,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Like St. David's twilit walls.\n \n And within, a trembling twilight\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Surely shewed a thousand men,\n All asleep, in shining helmets,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Ah, to see them wake again.\n \n 'They are mighty Arthur's warriors!'\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Said the grey-man; 'Till the day\n When the bell shall ring to wake them,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0They must sleep. Then wake for aye!\n \n 'With his knights at the Round Table,--\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Owain, Kai, and Percival,--\n See,--the little star that crowns him,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0There sleeps Arthur, King of all.\n \n 'But as Merlin said, not waking\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0In our time, save yonder bell\n Ring,--and see the gold around them\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0That is ours. Oh, Sirs, sleep well!'\n \n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0V.\n \n Davie's lips part, wide with wonder,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0At the warriors in their sleep,\n With such spears, and splendid helmets;\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0'Ah,' he cries, 'to see them leap\n \n 'Forth to life, and march to music,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Flashing all their thousand spears;\n Ring, you bell, until King Arthur\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Rises, royal, when he hears!'\n \n Still the old man gropes and grumbles\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0O'er his gold, as Davie's gone;\n Hark, ye mystic hall of warriors,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Hark, the bell rings, night is done!\n \n At its stroke, the mountain trembled,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And the thousand spears replied,\n Grounding on the mouldy pavement,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0As the men rose, side by side.\n \n Oh, the soldiers rise in radiance,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0All in motion, helm and spear!\n And King Arthur's crown, above them,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Like a star shines steadfast there!\n \n But a voice cried,--'Sleep, King Arthur!\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Greed of gold, a boy at play,\n Wake thy destined sleep; far distant\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Still is the awakening day!'\n \n And King Arthur cried,--'Sleep, soldiers!\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Sleep, my spears!' They sank again\n Into silence. Round the table\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Arthur slept with all his men!\n \n But the old man hastened, stumbling,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0From his gold, and grumbling crept,\n And drew Davie up the stairway,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Looking back at those who slept.\n \n Far below, the Lonnen windows,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Sent one gleam forth lonelily,\n As alone stood Davie, asking,--\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0'Old man, gold man, where is he?'\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0VI.\n \n Many a morn, up from the Lonnen,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Davie led his sheep to seek\n For the door, but never found it,--\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Many a morn, week after week!\n \n Many an eve, too, Davie waited,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Year by year, till he was grown\n Stalwart, and the Lonnen pastures,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And the sheep there were his own.\n \n And when he was grey, he told it,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0In his sounding mountain tongue\n To his grandsons; and they told it\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0To the harp when songs were sung.\n \n So my grandsire told the story\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0O'er to me: and long I sought\n For King Arthur's Hall,--and seeking,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Yet must wander, finding nought.\n \n Yet we wait the day of waking!\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0But the grave its counsel keeps:\n Still within his Hall of Waiting,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0With his warriors Arthur sleeps.","title":"Arthurian Miscellany: King Arthur's Sleep, by Ernest Rhys [1898]","type":"page"}