Jul 022011
 

How beautiful they are,

The lordly ones

Who dwell in the hills,

In the hollow hills.

They have faces like flowers

And their breath is wind

That blows over grass

Filled with dewy clover.

Their limbs are more white

Than shafts of moonshine:

They are more fleet

Than the March wind.

They laugh and are glad

And are terrible:

When their lances shake

Every green reed quivers.

How beautiful they are

How beautiful

They lordly ones

In the hollow hills.

Etain, The Immortal Hour, Fiona Macleod (William Sharp)

Jun 042011
 

From out the dark of sleep I rose, on the
wings of desire :
“Give me the joy of sight,” I cried,”O Master of Hidden Fire!”

And a Voice said : Wait
Till you pass the Gate.

“Give me the joy of sight,” I cried, “O Mas-
ter of Hidden Fire !
By the flame in the heart of the soul, grant
my desire ! ”

And a Voice said : Wait
Till you pass the Gate.

I shook the dark with the tremulous beat of
my wings of desire:
“Give me but once the thing I ask, O Master
of Hidden Fire ! ”

And a Voice said: irait!
You have reached the Gate.

I rose from flame to flame on pinions of desire:
And I heard the voice of the Master of Hidden Fire:
Behold the Flaming Gate,
Where Sight doth wait!

Like a wandering star I fell through the deeps of desire,
And back through the portals of sleep the
Master of Hidden Fire
Thundered: Await
The opening of the Gate!

But now I pray, now I pray, with passionate desire :
“Blind me, O blind me. Master of Hidden
Fire,
I supplicate,
Ope not the Gate.”

Fiona Macleod (William Sharp), The Secret Gate