PORTRAITS OF THE ARTIST (B)

 More from Northumberland; the 'clock' is a tidal clock in the guest house where we were staying, useful for knowing when we could go to the tidal island of Lindisfarne.

              
              I

Rose and I together,
Gangrels on the Ben
Stomping snow or heather.

Feet ensconced in leather,
Free and careless then
Rose and I together.

Loosed the daily tether,
Left the mundane pen
Stomping snow or heather.

Climbed past ewe and wether
Far from homes of men
Rose and I together.

Vagaries of weather
Dappled vision when
Stomping snow or heather.

Yearning, I ask whether
That will be again
Rose and I together
Stomping snow or heather.

              II

"Oft have I travelled"
Hrafnkel's tortuous terrain
Traversing mire-veiled rock
To Eyvind's treacherous murder;

Clambered with Grettir Greitlandsjokull
By the ice-shaded crevasse
To where in the shadowed valley
Only sheep perturbed his peace;

Come with Kjartan to the rock
By the ravine Hafragill
Where his friend bore
Anger into the ambush;

Stumbled with the blind bard Egil
To his final murders
Where edging bogs and pits
He buried money and slaves;

Ranged with SkarpHedin
The nightroad with the ringing halberd:
"Two ravens flew with them
All the way";

Raced to the river with Hedin,
Hurled to the icehump,
Birdfast skimmed the snowbridge,
Slidden to the crux of the battle.

Gone with Gunnar back
Through glorious slope and gold cornfields,
Thralled by Iceland s loveliness
To his home and thief's eyed Hallgerd.


             III

Wanderings, tergiversations, vacillations.
I have trodden the wilderness,
Thirsted, hungered and murmured:
Stumbled back towards Egypt
(Through grace moated by the Sea);
Plunged headlong to Hormah
To force the land in my strength,
And trawled through sand and rock:
Even, in some seasons followed
The Ark to our resting place.

For I have tasted the grapes of Eshcol
And seen in spirit the fertile land:
Milk and honey are to my taste:
And I, like Caleb, have the land in my heart.

But more I know the One
Who bore me to this waste
Will plant me in His mountain,
His fixed and purposed place.

"The Ben" is Ben Nevis, the highest hill in Scotland. Part II relates to my early fondness for Icelandic sagas.