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So listen now to Punchinello:

Where’er a lover sings and sighs, there Pierrot lives again,

Beneath the moon, he passes by, and pours out all his pain.

As long as youth and mirth endure, there Pierrette may be seen,

While many a footstep follows hers a-dancing on the green.

And oh! as long as gold is gold, and money chinks and rings,

There Pulcinella dances when you pull the golden strings;

While every man, for weal or woe, goes seeking Columbine,

Immortal soul imprisoned in a woman’s eyes divine.

And when the fire burns low at night, and lightning flashes high!

Then guard your hearth, and hold your love, for Harlequin goes by.

And lastly, where the children play, until the very end,

You’ll find old Punchinello, whom they call the children’s friend!

Touch my hump for luck, dears!

Laugh and laugh again!

If I cannot make you laugh,

What’s the good of pain?

Ballads

The Ballad of the Flint

THE Flint, it was our Weapon! The Circle was our Home!

The Tors closed in around us, and we never dared to roam.

The Flint, it was our Weapon, and we kept the Beasts at bay,

When there came on us the Sea Men—the roving Northern Free Men,

And closed in all around us, as we fled in wild dismay!

They had Knives of Magic Metal! Their beards were flaming red!

But one there was, a mighty man, o’ertopped them by a head.

He cried: “Well done, my Vikings, we will leave them limb and life,

Take their cattle, we require them—take their wives if you desire them.

As for me, who am your Captain, now be mine the Headman’s wife!”

A groan came from the People (She was our Eyes and Ears),

The Phoenician blood flowed in her from down the longpast years.

Alone, she stood there fearless. “O Stranger from the Sea,

Take back thy hand and leave me; my Eyes cannot deceive me!

It is Doom of Death I bring thee … so be warned and let me be!”

But he laughed a mighty laugh, and he swore aloud by Thor:

“From thy cringing mate I take thee, to be mine for evermore,

For the magic of thy presence, for the beauty of thy face!”

Then they strode across the valleys, to the Sea Coast and their galleys,

And they took her bound amongst them, to our shame and our disgrace.

Then the Headman called the People—far and near they came in flocks,

And a mighty tempest, raging, drove the galleys on the rocks.

Bruised and spent we found the Sea Men (and we praised the holy Sun!)

In confusion there we found them, and we seized and held and bound them,

And we slew them there with laughter! Yea, we slew them—all save One!

With a taunt the Headman mocked him, as he cut the woman free:

“We will spare thee for the torture of the slowest death there be!”

But the woman spoke out proudly: “I am Priestess of the Sun!

Come, ye People all, and follow to the Sacrificial Hollow

Where I strike the Blow of Vengeance! It is thus it shall be done!”

The Woman was our Priestess. We followed where she led

To the Secret Hollow in the Rocks where Human Blood is shed.

And we cast the Victim down there—but he called her by her name:

“Is thy heart, then, as unyielding as the Flint Stone thou art wielding?

Or is it as our Northern Iron—which melts in fiercest flame …?”

“I am Priestess of the Circle. To the Headman I am wife.

Dost thou understand, O Stranger, that our God must have thy life?”

And he answered: “Strike, then, gladly—since my death comes by thy hand!

And I would thy Gods were my Gods—the only true and high Gods!”

Then she smiled—and struck unflinching! (But we did not understand.)

“O Sun God of our People, Whose Eyes and Ears I be!

My blow, it has avenged Thee—Thy Priestess now is free!

So I turn to Thor and Odin—They who guard the Northern foam.

Let my Stranger Lover meet me! In thy Valhall let him greet me!”

The Flint (it is our Weapon)—to her heart she struck it home!

Elizabeth of England