The Stormmaiden

The clipper heaved upon the waves
that tossed it up and threw it down,
as all the crewmen's scrambling knaves
cried out in fear, "We sure shall drown!"

And vain "repentence" met the air,
escaping all the sailors' lips
as each to drink the draught prepared,
the cup whence every mortal sips.

The tempest plagued them through the night
until, before fey Morning dawned,
a figure in a dress of white
from darkness-- did it seem-- then spawned.

her shining dress of ivory gave
no challenge to her lovely form,
a pretty girl borne on a wave,
a ghostly maiden in the storm.

And so the Captain then arose,
a dev'lish, ill-begotten rake,
and bellowed o'er the torment's throes.
'Twas this he to the crewmen spake:

"What ghastly apparition now
is witnessed there upon the sea?
She hovers there beyond the bow.
What is this spectre, lads, think ye?"

Some men, whose hearts but evil sought,
when seeing her were not perplexed,
but had a single, simple thought:
that she was of the Other Sex.

"Let's take her from the waters deep!'
such men with greedy grins then yelled.
"We'll hold a woman in the keep!"
But this idea was quick dispelled.

Still others said she was a ghost,
a wraith who'd made from Death escape.
"We should return her to the coast,
and rest her bones upon the Cape."

Some sailors, though, were filled with fear,
and drew their pistols, aimed to fire.
"A fiend! Destroy her, lads, get clear!
lest she of Styx should kill us here!"

Unsure, the mariners just milled
and pondered, doing not a thing.
To rape, to salvage, or to kill?
'Twas then that she began to sing.

Her voice was nectar on the wind,
the beauty of forgotten years.
It soothed the tempest's shrieking sind,
and swayed the frightened sailors' fears.

She sang to them above the gale,
above the sea's titanic squall.
This fairest maiden, tall and pale,
gave to the sea-borne men this call:

"My husband perished on the sea,
was dragged into its roaring swell.
I thus sought vengeance, equity,
and in my quest was drowned as well.

I roam these waters, seeking him,
my love, long lost within the waves,
who died by Neptune's wanton whim,
capricious, triton-bearing knave!

If e'er thou hast seen my lost man,
wilt thou in faith not let me know,
that we together safely can
in peace unto our graves thus go?"

With that the Daystar then appeared,
illumined all the calming sea,
and thus the lady disappaered,
her voice sill ringing out, "Tell me..."

And though great many years have passsed,
if thou canst give sufficient beer,
these men shall tell their tale at last,
if thou wilt lend a list'ning ear.

They'll tell of figures on the waves.
"Stormmaiden" shall the sailors say,
of perished lovers seeking graves,
'til Morn's first light chased them away.


-D.B.