Star over Bethlehem - Agatha Christie [25]
Bells are tolling o’er the sea,
The woeful bells of Brittany.
Rock the cradle lest she wake,
Learn who died for her sweet sake.
Mark a cross upon that brow,
Which shall sleep for ever now.
(Dark thy downy head, my sweet,
Motherless the world to meet,
Fold thy little hands in sleep …)
Rock the cradle lest she weep,
While the bells toll on and say
That a mother died today …
Isolt of Brittany
MY Lord and I upon a hill
Looked out across the sea
And watched the gulls that wheel and turn
And circle endlessly.
And Lo, my Lord was lost in thought
Until to him I said:
“Thy thoughts are very far away
From her thou soon shalt wed.
“In Cornwall, at Queen Isolt’s court
The maids are fair to see
Fairer are they, my Lord, perchance
Than those of Brittany.”
Then Tristan stayed in thought awhile,
Then smiled and answered me:
“There is no maid at Isolt’s court
One half as fair as thee.”
My Lord and I upon a hill
Looked out to sea a while.
I doubt not … yet I would I knew
What lay behind his smile …
My Lord and I in Brittany
Looked out across the sea,
And oh, his thoughts, his wand’ring thoughts,
Were far away from me.
Dark Sheila
SHEILA, dark Sheila, what is it that you’re seeing?
What is it that you’re seeing, that you’re seeing in the fire?
I see a lad that loves me … And I see a lad that leaves me …
And a third lad, a Shadow Lad … (and he’s the lad that grieves me)
And whatever I am seeing,
There’s no fearing and no fleeing …
But whatever I am seeing, it is not my heart’s desire …
Sheila, dark Sheila, with whom will you be roaming?
With whom will you be roaming when the summer day has flown?
A lad there is who loved me—but loves me now no longer,
A lad there is who left me (and oh! his love grows stronger!)
But wherever I go roaming,
You shall never find me homing,
For wherever I go roaming, I must wander all alone …
“Sheila, dark Sheila, will you listen to my pleading?
Will you listen to my pleading, will you recompense my pain?
For I’m the lad who loved you, the lad who so deceived you.
I left you for another girl, and oh! I fear I grieved you!
But if you’ll hear my pleading
As across the moor you’re speeding,
Oh! if you’ll hear my pleading, I’ll return to you again.”
“Sheila, dark Sheila, will you hearken to my calling?
Will you hearken to my calling, as I call from far away?
For I’m the lad that left you (but never could forget you),
And I’m the lad that loved you from the very hour he met you!
And if you’ll hear my calling
As the shades of night are falling,
Oh! if you’ll hear my calling, I’ll be yours alone alway!”
But Sheila, dark Sheila, is out upon the moorland.
She’s out upon the moorland where the heather meets the sky!
And the lads shall never find her, for there’s one walks by her side there,
A Stranger Lad, a Shadow Lad, who would not be denied there …
She turned her to his calling
As the shades of night were falling,
She turned her to his calling … and she answered to his Cry …
Ballad of the Maytime
THE King, he went a-walking, one merry morn in May.
The King, he laid him down to rest, and fell asleep, they say.
And when he woke, ’twas even,
(The hour of magic mood,)
And Bluebell, wild Bluebell, was dancing in the wood.
The King, he gave a banquet to all the flowers (save one),
With hungry eyes he watched them, a-seeking one alone.
The Rose was there in satin,
The Lily with green hood,
But Bluebell, wild Bluebell, only dances in the wood.
The King, he frowned in anger, his hand upon his sword.
He sent his men to seize her, and bring her to their Lord.
With silken cords they bound her,
Before the King she stood,
Bluebell, wild Bluebell, who dances in the wood.
The King,