Yvytot

Where wail the waters in their flaw     A spectre wanders to and fro,     And evermore that ghostly shore     Bemoans the heir of Yvytot.     Sometimes, when, like a fleecy pall,     The mists upon the waters fall,     Across the main float shadows twain     That do not heed the spectre's call.     The king his son of Yvytot     Stood once and saw the waters go     Boiling around with hissing sound     The sullen phantom rocks below.     And suddenly he saw a face     Lift from that black and seething place--     Lift up and gaze in mute amaze     And tenderly a little space,     A mighty cry of love made he--     No answering word to him gave she,     But looked, and then sunk back again     Into the dark and depthless sea.     And ever afterward that face,     That he beheld such little space,     Like wraith would rise within his eyes     And in his heart find biding place.     So oft from castle hall he crept     Where mid the rocks grim shadows slept,     And where the mist reached down and kissed     The waters as they wailed and wept.     The king it was of Yvytot     That vaunted, many years ago,     There was no coast his valiant host     Had not subdued with spear and bow.     For once to him the sea-king cried:     "In safety all thy ships shall ride     An thou but swear thy princely heir     Shall take my daughter to his bride.     "And lo, these winds that rove the sea     Unto our pact shall witness be,     And of the oath which binds us both     Shall be the judge 'twixt me and thee!"     Then swore the king of Yvytot     Unto the sea-king years ago,     And with great cheer for many a year     His ships went harrying to and fro.     Unto this mighty king his throne     Was born a prince, and one alone--     Fairer than he in form and blee     And knightly grace was never known.     But once he saw a maiden face     Lift from a haunted ocean place--     Lift up and gaze in mute amaze     And tenderly a little space.     Wroth was the king of Yvytot,     For that his son would never go     Sailing the sea, but liefer be     Where wailed the waters in their flow,     Where winds in clamorous anger swept,     Where to and fro grim shadows crept,     And where the mist reached down and kissed     The waters as they wailed and wept.     So sped the years, till came a day     The haughty king was old and gray,     And in his hold were spoils untold     That he had wrenched from Norroway.     Then once again the sea-king cried:     "Thy ships have harried far and wide;     My part is done--now let thy son     Require my daughter to his bride!"     Loud laughed the king of Yvytot,     And by his soul he bade him no--     "I heed no more what oath I swore,     For I was mad to bargain so!"     Then spake the sea-king in his wrath:     "Thy ships lie broken in my path!     Go now and wring thy hands, false king!     Nor ship nor heir thy kingdom hath!     "And thou shalt wander evermore     All up and down this ghostly shore,     And call in vain upon the twain     That keep what oath a dastard swore!"     The king his son of Yvytot     Stood even then where to and fro     The breakers swelled--and there beheld     A maiden face lift from below.     "Be thou or truth or dream," he cried,     "Or spirit of the restless tide,     It booteth not to me, God wot!     But I would have thee to my bride."     Then spake the maiden: "Come with me     Unto a palace in the sea,     For there my sire in kingly ire     Requires thy king his oath of thee!"     Gayly he fared him down the sands     And took the maiden's outstretched hands;     And so went they upon their way     To do the sea-king his commands.     The winds went riding to and fro     And scourged the waves that crouched below,     And bade them sing to a childless king     The bridal song of Yvytot.     So fell the curse upon that shore,     And hopeless wailing evermore     Was the righteous dole of the craven soul     That heeded not what oath he swore.     An hundred ships went down that day     All off the coast of Norroway,     And the ruthless sea made mighty glee     Over the spoil that drifting lay.     The winds went calling far and wide     To the dead that tossed in the mocking tide:     "Come forth, ye slaves! from your fleeting graves     And drink a health to your prince his bride!"     Where wail the waters in their flow     A spectre wanders to and fro,     But nevermore that ghostly shore     Shall claim the heir of Yvytot.     Sometimes, when, like a fleecy pall,     The mists upon the waters fall,     Across the main flit shadows twain     That do not heed the spectre's call.