BRITTANY: ITS PEOPLE AND ITS POEMS.[106]

BRITTANY: ITS PEOPLE AND ITS POEMS.[106]

THIRD ARTICLE.

In a former notice, we expressed an intention to present our readers with the translation of certain curious fragments relating to Merlin; to be followed by some of the historical poems which succeeded the Druidic compositions of earlier times. We proceed to fulfil our promise.

The name of Merlin (Myrrdhin, or Marzin) is so closely associated with the early mystic and mythological poetry of Cambria and Armorica that it will be desirable to give some account of this personage, as far as the uncertainty of his history renders it possible to do so, before reproducing any of the poems of which he is the subject.

It has long been supposed that there existed two Merlins, one of whom, a magician, was the offspring of a Christian virgin and a Roman consul who lived in the Vth century, in the reign of Ambrose Aurelian; or, according to the popular tradition, whose father was no mortal, but a malignant Duz, whom, under the form of a bird, she unwittingly let in at her window: and the other, a warrior and bard, who after the battle of Arderiz, in which he had unintentionally killed his nephew, lost his reason, and retired from the world.

But critics of the present day agree in considering that it is one person who is the subject of a triple tradition, and that it is the same Merlin who appears in the light of a mythological, historical, and legendary hero.

The fragments which still remain in Wales of the poems of this bard are either very much modernized or almost wholly transformed. Of the ballads relating to him which exist in Brittany, there seem to be four principal ones. First, a cradle-song, intensely pagan in spirit, in which his mother plaintively relates to him his mysterious origin while rocking him to sleep, and when, to her amazement, the infant derides her regrets, and defends his father, declaring himself to be born to be the good genius of the Breton nation. This poem it is needless to reproduce. We give translations of the remaining three, beginning with

MERLIN THE WIZARD.

(Marzin Divinour.)

VTH CENTURY.

“Merlin, sage Merlin, say, whither away, With your Black Dog, at the dawn of the day?” “Seeking am I, in each wave-hollowed cleft, Egg red as blood, by the sea-adder left.

“Cress I would seek in the meadowland low, Magical gold-herb, and weird mistletoe; Deep in the forest to find must I go, Where by the fay-haunted fount it doth grow.”

“Merlin, sage Merlin, your steps, ah, retrace! Mistletoe leave, the old oak-tree to grace; Leave the green cress and the gold-herb to grow, Hid in the well-watered meadowland low.

“Leave the red egg of the snake of the sea Mid the wild foam of the breakers to be. Merlin! turn back from the path you have trod, One and the only Diviner is God!”

The latter half of the poem appears to be the voice of S. Kado, the Christian bishop to whom tradition attributes the conversion of Merlin.

The gold-herb figures as one of the most approved charms of Druidic days. It is said to sparkle at a distance like gold—whence its name—and is greatly esteemed by the Bretons for its medicinal qualities. It must be gathered at dawn, by a person who is in a state of grace, fasting, barefoot, and clad in white linen which has not been previously worn. A circle is traced round it, and no steel must approach it, but it must be carefully plucked by the hand. Should any one chance to tread upon the plant, he sleeps forthwith, and can hear and understand the language of animals and birds.

In the next poem, Merlin no longer appears as a magician. He is himself overcome by a sorceress, who, after depriving him of his harp and his gold ring, the symbols of his dignity as bard, takes advantage of a particular taste he seems to have had for apples (if we may judge by the praises lavished upon that fruit in poems of his composition still extant in Wales[107]) to ensnare him, and to make even his will powerless by their means.

The tradition of his disappearance is common to Wales and Brittany. “The tomb of Merlin is known to none,” says the bard Myvyrian, who lived before the Xth century. And in the Welsh Triads[108] it is written that “he embarked with nine other bards, and whither he went cannot be known.” He himself says that he fled from the court to dwell in the woods.[109]

The king mentioned in the ballad appears to be Budik, chief of the Bretons of Armorica, a British prince who emigrated from Cornwall, and who was a valiant defender of the independence of Brittany against the Franks. He was assassinated by order of Clovis, who had been unable to overcome him in battle, about the year 506. He married his daughter Alienor to a prince whose name is unknown, and gave her Léon for dowry.

MERLIN THE BARD.

(MARZIN BARZ.)

I.

“Good grandmother, pray list to me: Fain would I go the feast to see— The feast commanded by the king, And join the races in the ring.”

“To see the feast you will not go, To this, nor other one I trow; Go you shall not to see the sight: I see that you have wept this night. Go you will not while I can let, If dreamings fond your cheeks make wet.”

“Sweet little mother, love you me? Can you forbid me there to be?” “In flying thither, you will sing: Returning, you will droop the wing.”

II.

Bridled has he his chestnut colt, His chestnut colt so red:

Its hoofs, well shod with glittering steel, Strike fire at every tread.

Gleams on its neck a ring, and on Its tail a ribbon gay;

Fair trappings o’er its back he throws, Then mounts and speeds away.

E’en as he gains the glittering course, The horns all loudly sound;

While, in the ever-thickening crowd, The eager horses bound.

“Who the great barrier of the field Shall leap at one clear spring,

Perfect and free, the same shall wed The daughter of the king!”

Wildly thereat the young colt neighs, Prances, and bounds amain;

His gleaming eyes flash eager fire,

He paws the ground with keen desire, Then flies across the plain.

Far, far behind, the others all Were long ago pass’d by:

He flies alone. With one great bound, He clears the barrier high.

“My lord the king, your royal word Is pledged that so it be:

The fair Linor I therefore crave, For surely mine is she.”

“The princess Linor think not thou In any wise to win.

No sorcerer my daughter weds, Nor any of his kin.”

An aged man, whose snowy beard Upon his breast flowed down,

White as the wool by furze-brake torn Upon the moorland brown—

An aged man, with robe of wool, Bordered by silver band

Throughout its length, sat by the king, Upon the king’s right hand.

Unto the royal ear he bent— He bent, and whispered low;

Then did the king his sceptre raise, And struck a sounding blow—

A blow upon the table thrice, That all the field might hear:

It hushed the crowd to silence, while, With voice both loud and clear,

Thus spake the king: “So bring thou me The harp of Merlin old,

Which by four chains hangs by his bed— Four chains of finest gold:

If Merlin’s harp thou bring to me, My child, perchance, shall marry thee.”

III.

“Good grandmother, I pray give heed, And counsel me in this my need: My heart is broken!” “Oh, indeed! Hadst thou not set at naught my rede, Thy hap had met with better speed. Poor grandson mine! Yet weep not so: The harp shall be unbound, I trow. A golden hammer here behold, No sound rings from its stroke of gold.”

IV.

“Now fair befall this palace high, And joy to all therein!

Behold, with Merlin’s harp I come, Which scarce I hoped to win.”

When the king’s son these tidings heard, Low to his sire spake he:

And thereupon thus said the king, To that bold youth and free:

“If thou from Merlin’s own right hand Safe unto me shalt bring

The ring he wears, Linor is thine When I receive the ring.”

V.

He went his way, and, weeping, sought His grandame, with new care distraught:

“Behold, the king his word hath spoken! Behold, the king his word hath broken!”

“Nay, fret thee not: there is small need; Only, to that I bid, give heed: My little coffer open thou, And take thereout a slender bough, Whereon twelve glittering leaflets grow: Like fiery gold they gleam and glow. ‘Tis now full seven years agone Since seven woods I searched, alone, On seven nights, at darkest hour, Ere I could win that plant of power. When you the midnight cock-crow hear, Your red horse waits: speed forth, nor fear: In slumber deep will Merlin be; So fear thee not: good speed to thee!”

When loud the cock at midnight crowed, The red steed bounded on the road; And ere his notes he ceased to sing, The youth had borne away the ring.

VI.

Ere dawn had brightened into day, He stood the king beside,

Whereat the king in wonder gazed, Silent and stupefied.

And all with him: “His wife, behold, He verily has won!”

The king retires a moment, with The old man and his son.

Anon the king returns, and still The two are at his side:

And thus he spake; “‘Tis true, my son, That thou hast gained thy bride;

“Yet is there one adventure more Which thou must undertake;

When that is sped, my son-in-law Forthwith I thee will make.

“The princess Linor shall be thine, And all the country fair

Of Léon I bestow for dower; This, by my race, I swear.

“Do but the thing which I demand, (And this the last shall be:)

To celebrate the marriage, bring Bard Merlin unto me.”

VII.

“O Merlin, Bard, alone, forlorn, With all thy garments soiled and torn: O Merlin, Bard, whence comest thou, With weary step, with clouded brow, Bareheaded and barefooted? Say; And whither wouldst thou wend thy way? Thy holly staff can barely stay Thy bending form, thou Druid gray.”

“Alas! To seek my harp I go: Best solace that my heart can know In this world. I am wandering To seek my harp, to seek my ring: Both have I lost: no more I sing, But wearily am wandering.”

“Nay, then, O Merlin, grieve not so; Yet shalt thou find thy harp, I trow: Thy harp and eke thy golden ring; So cease awhile thy wandering. Enter, O Bard, and rest thee here, And taste a morsel of my cheer.”

“Nay, pray me not: I will not stay, Nor pause upon my weary way; I will not cease my painful quest, I will not eat, I will not rest, Until I seek no more in vain: Until my harp I find again.”

“Hear me, O Merlin, and obey: In sooth, thou wilt not long delay Thy harp to find. Come in, I pray, A little space, nor say me nay.”

She so besought, so urged him, till Her wily wit had worked her will.

With night approaching, home there came The grandson of that ancient dame; And when he drew the hearth anear, Back started he with sudden fear; For there Bard Merlin sat at rest, His head low bowed upon his breast: Yes, there forsooth sate Merlin gray; And he?—how should he flee away?

“Hush, grandson mine! fear naught; in deeps Of slumber most profound he sleeps. Eaten has he red apples three, On the hot ashes cooked by me. Whither we list we now may fare, And he will follow everywhere.”

VIII.

In early morning, ere the queen Had risen from her bed,

Her waiting-lady to her side She called, to whom she said:

“What in the city has befall’n? And what the noise, I pray,

That shakes the columns of my bed, Ere yet ‘tis dawn of day?

“And what has happened in the court? And wherefore do the crowd

With eager tumult thus press on With joyous shouts and loud?”

“It is that all the town is glad, And keeping holiday,

Because unto this palace high Bard Merlin comes to-day;

“And by his side an aged dame In robe of white wool fair:

The royal son-in-law, behind, Follows the ancient pair.”

This heard the king, and ran to see: “Haste thee, good crier arise!

Rise from thy bed: make speed: proclaim The feast in gallant wise.

“Make proclamation through the land, And summon great and small

Alike, to keep the marriage feast, And make high festival.

“Come all who will, come high and low: The daughter of the king

Affianced eight days hence will be With the betrothal ring.

“Bid to the nuptials nobles, lords Of ancient Brittany,

Dukes, marquises, and judges grave, And all of high degree.

“Bid churchmen, warriors, and knights; But summon first of all

The great crown-vassals of the land: The rich, the poorest, call.

“Run, messenger, the country through, With diligence and speed;

To hasten quickly thy return See that thou give good heed.”

IX.

“Good people all two ears who own, Wide open let them be,

And silence keep—keep silence all, And hearken unto me.

“Hearken to that which is ordained: The daughter of the king

In eight days hence betroth’d will be, And wear the ‘spousal ring.

“Come to the nuptials all who list, Rich, poor, or great, or small;

Churchmen and judges, counts and knights, The king inviteth all.

“Nothing to you shall lacking be, Nor silver bright, nor gold,

Nor meat, nor bread, nor hydromel, Nor wine, for young and old,

“Nor seats for you to sit upon, Nor valets quick to wait.

Two hundred bulls, two hundred swine, Will be served up in state.

“Two hundred heifers, and of roes One hundred from each wood

Throughout the country, oxen white And black, two hundred, good;

“Whereof the hides shall equally Be shared among the guests;

And there will be a hundred robes Of white wool for the priests.

“A hundred chains of burnished gold For warriors brave and true;

And for young girls a roomful gay Of festal mantles blue.

“Eight hundred nether garments good For folk of poor estate,

And seemly gifts for every guest Or be he small or great.

“A hundred skilled musicians there, Each seated in his place,

Music will make, by day and night, The festival to grace.

“And in the midst of all the court, With fitting pomp and state,

Merlin the Bard that marriage high Will duly celebrate.

“In short, the feast will all surpass That e’er have been before;

Nor will there be in time to come Its equal evermore.”

X.

“Chief of the royal kitchens, say, The marriage, is it done?”

“Finished, and paid for; and the guests Departed every one.

“For fifteen days the feast was kept With gaiety and glee,

Then, laden with rich gifts, the guests To go their ways were free,

“All with protection from the king; And thus, with joyful heart,

To Léon with his royal bride Did the king’s son depart.

“All are gone hence, well satisfied; Not so the king alone:

Merlin the Bard is lost again, And whither is he gone?”

It is believed that Merlin was assassinated, but popular tradition has not suffered the mysterious bard to die.

The story of the conversion of Merlin in his old age comes down to us from very early times, and has been sung by the Christian bards of Wales, Armorica, and the Gaelic clans. The following ballad, as well the foregoing fragments relating to Merlin, is still sung in Treguier, and other parts of Brittany.

CONVERSION OF MERLIN.

S. Kado walked the forest maze, Through many a darkling dell:

S. Kado walked thro’ the forest green Ringing his clear-toned bell;

When out from the shade of the ancient trees A phantom bounding sprang;

But still S. Kado went his way, And still his clear bell rang.

The phantom’s beard was like lichen gray Spread o’er an ancient stone,

And its restless eyes, like boiling water, Glitter and danced and shone.

‘Twas Merlin the Bard that Kado met, That S. Kado met this day,

With fiery eyes that wildly glared, And beard so long and gray.

“In Heaven’s name, I bid thee, phantom, Tell me who art thou?”

“A bard was I when in the world, To whom did all men bow.

If I into the palace came, A joyous crowd pressed round,

And gleaming gold fell from the trees When my harp began to sound.

“My country’s kings all loved me well; And strange kings held in fear

The mighty bard with harp of gold, To Brittany so dear.

Now in the woods I dwell alone: Men honor me no more.

Grinding their teeth, there pass me by The wolf and fierce wild boar.

“My harp is lost; the trees are felled From whence dropped glittering gold;

The kings of Brittany are not; The land to strangers sold.

‘Merlin the fool!’ now shout the folk, And pelt, with scoffings bold.”

“Poor innocent, return to God, Who pity has on thee,

And rest thy weariness on him Who died on Calvary.”

“Ah, then in him I will confide, Will he but pardon me.”

“Pardon from him do I pronounce: The Blessed One in Three.”

“A cry of joy my heart sends forth, To honor heaven’s high King;

And through eternal ages I His praise will ever sing.”

“Go, Christian soul, and may his angels O’er thee spread their wing.”