MARINA SINGS (Pericles, Act V, Sc. i.)

This is the song Marina sang To forlorn Pericles: Silver the young voice rang. The gray beard blew about his knees, And the hair of his bowed head, like a veil, Fell over his cheeks and blent with it: He knew not anything. Above him the Tyrian fold Of the curtain billowed, fringed with gold, As might beseem a king. Sunset was rose on every sail That did along the far sea flit, And rose on the cedarn deck Of the ship that at anchor swayed; And the harbor was golden-lit. He lifted not his neck At the coming of the maid. She swept him with her eyes, As though some tender wing Just touched a bleaching wreck In sheeted sand that lies; Then she began to sing.

Hush, ah hush! the sea is kind! Lullaby is in the wind; Grief the babe forgets to weep, Lapped and spelled and laid to sleep: His lip is wet with the milk of the spray; He shall not wake till another day. Ah hush! the sea is kind! Who can tell, ah who can tell, The cradling nurse’s croonèd spell? While the slumber-web she weaves Never nursling stirs or grieves: The tears that drowned his sweet eye-beams Are turned to mists of rainbow dreams. Ah hush! she charms us well! “All thy hurts I balm and bind; All thy heart’s loves thou shalt find!” Yea, this she murmurs, best of all: “It was not loss that did befall! All thy joys are put away; They shall be thine another day!” Ah hush! the sea is kind! She sang; she trembled like a lyre; Her pure eyes burned with azure fire; About her lucent brow the hair Played like light flames divine ones wear: The maid was very fair. But when she saw he gave no heed,— Close-mantled up in ancient pain As in some sad-wound weed, Dumb as a shape of stone, Being years past all moan,— She tried no other strain, But softly spake: “Most royal sir!” He raised his head and looked at her. So might a castaway, half dead, Lift up his haggard head, Waked by the swirl of sudden rain, A cool, unhoped-for grace, Against his tearless face: And see, with happy-crazèd mind, Upon his raft a Bright One stand,— His love of youth, her grave long left behind In some sweet-watered land.