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Poem by Dinah Maria Craik Cathair Fhargus Fergus’s Seat A mountain in the Island of Arran, the summit of which resembles a gigantic human profile. WITH face turned upward to the changeful sky, I, Fergus, lie, supine in frozen rest; The maiden morning clouds slip rosily Unclasped, unclasping, down my granite breast; The lightning strikes my brow and passes by. There ’s nothing new beneath the sun, I wot; I “Fergus” called,—the great preadamite, Who for my mortal body blindly sought Rash immortality, and on this height Stone-bound, forever am and yet am not,— There ’s nothing new beneath the sun, I say. Ye pygmies of a later race, who come And play out your brief generation’s play Below me, know, I too spent my life’s sum, And revelled through my short tumultuous day. O, what is man that he should mouth so grand Through his poor thousand as his seventy years? Whether as king I ruled a trembling land, Or swayed by tongue or pen my meaner peers, Or earth’s whole learning once did understand,— What matter? The star-angels know it all. They who came sweeping through the silent night And stood before me, yet did not appall: Till, fighting ’gainst me in their courses bright, Celestial smote terrestrial.—Hence, my fall. Hence, Heaven cursed me with a granted prayer; Made my hill-seat eternal; bade me keep My pageant of majestic lone despair, While one by one into the infinite deep Sank kindred, realm, throne, world: yet I lay there. There still I lie. Where are my glories fled? My wisdom that I boasted as divine? My grand primeval women fair, who shed Their whole life’s joy to crown one hour of mine, And lived to curse the love they coveted? Gone,—gone. Uncounted æons have rolled by, And still my ghost sits by its corpse of stone, And still the blue smile of the new-formed sky Finds me unchanged. Slow centuries crawling on Bring myriads happy death:—I cannot die. * * * * * Dinah Maria Craik Poem Theme: Islands of Scotland Dinah Maria Craik's other poems: 1196 Views |
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