Thursday, March 08, 2007

Ryme VI


Checked the surf yesterday...looked pretty ragged. However, I did see some ridables coming through at a typically unsurfed spot on the central coast. It would have been a real chore getting out to them channel and no letup...just relentless inner bar mayhem.

Ryme of the Ancyent Watyrman



"But tell me, tell true of the Watyrman,
"The solemn vow seem'd soul renewing--
"Ayn how dyd waves ryse up so huge?
"What were those sea spyryts doing?


"Like styll calm waters 'fore the storm,
"The Ocean holds ne wrath:
"The wave's almond eye spyn's silent
"Ayn to the Horn'd moon it is cast--
"The Watyrman kens whych way to go,
"For she guydes hym smooth ayn in trym.
"See, broth'r, see! ayn how gracyously
"She doth looketh down on hym.


"What magyc makes hys gun e'er true
"Defy'n the wave ayn the wynd?


"Wynd tis the source behynd ayn afore,
Push'n deep water steep towards shore.
"Dryve, ye wynd, dryve! more hygh, more hygh,
"For wythout the hale surf he's ill fat'd.
"For blow by ayn blow the wynd it doth flow,
"Ayn the Watyrman's trance be abat'd.


Awake'd from my dream, I was far to sea
Thank God 'twas gentle weather:
Twas nyght, calm nyght, the moon was on hygh;
Ayn deep ocean swells march'd on together.

They marched on together cross't the deep sea,
Ayn I paddl'd along I was wyth her:
I gaz'd far away wyth stone tyr'd eyes
At sea swells that in moonlyght glytt'r'd.

Thy spyryts fell curse had dryv'n me out,
Where none other would soon pass my way:
There ne would be brothers to aid me along
Ayn ne was I a man tend to pray.

In deep sea tyme the spell she was snapt,
Ayn shorebyrds soon wheel'd o'erhead:
I look'd far-forth, but noth'n I saw
Of dear shorelyne ayn waves ly'n ahead.

Lyke one, that sole in a lonely lyneup
Doth paddle in fear ayn in dread,
Hav'n been caught one tyme too inside
He now stays far outsyde instead:
He's become weak, ayn a'fear'n the peak
That ere could close out 'pon hys head.

Then there breath'd a wynd 'pon me,
The swells behynd me jump'd quyck:
That path that they blew was ne out to sea
But blew me towards shore fog foul thyck.

The wynd rays'd my hayr, y fann'd my cheek,
Lyke a meadow-gayl sweet in the spring--
Myngl'n strangely wyth unfound'd fears,
Styll it felt lyke a welcom'n thing.

Swyftly, aye swyftly on flew the swells,
The gun it true softly knyf'd through:
Sweetly, aye sweetly, on blew the breeze--
Gains't the backs of grow'n swells it now blew.

O dreams of rapt joy! is thys indeed
A lyght-house top that I see?
Is thys thy Cape? Is thys thy Beach?
Is thys myne own sweet countrée?

Dryft'n o'er bull kelp beds e'er thyck,
Ayn true, wyth deep sobs dyd I pray--
"O my dear Lord, let me be now awake
"Or let me sleep on for always!"

Kelp lyn'd break twas smooth'r'n glass,
Across't it lynes regular peel'd!
As lyke a myrror moonlyght dyd lay,
Reflect'n twyce hollow tubes real.

Oyl'd moonlyt water was all aglow,
Ayn eeryly rys'n from same,
Full many shapes, there shadows were,
Sea Spyryts wyth torches came.

Just a byt dystant off the gun's nose
Theyr dark-red shadows dyd flare;
Ayn soon I saw that my own flesh
It glow'd red-lyke in that hell glare.

I turn'd 'way head in fear ayn in dread,
Ayn I swear by the holy rood,
That the spyryts advanc'd, ayn now
They before my board stood.

They rays'd up dead arms ryght styff,
Ayn held them all rygyd and tyght;
In each spyryt hand there sat a brand,
Of the Devyl's own hell lyquyd fyre.
Theyr hurrycane eye-balls reflect'd
The red'n'd ayn smoky torchlyght.

I deygn'd ne to pray and quyck strok'd away
I thought "ne offend as before".
Then up come a breeze hard on the bay,
Yet ne waves came they gayns't the shore.

The cobbles shon bryght, the beacon dyd too
That stood true ayn strong 'bove the rock:
With sylent moonlyght steep'd in styllness
I glyd'd toward shore lyke a hawk.

The bay it near glow'd wyth sylent moonlyght,
Tyll the wynds dyd arryve from afar
Then famylyar shapes, lyn'd shadows came,
Aye, great surf wyth whych I'd soon spar.

I spun 'round ayn gaz'd out from my board
At the glymmer'n shadows out there:
I cast my eyes then down on my deck--
O Chryst! Dyd I agayn dare?

Each set then rys'd up, bigger'n before;
I swear on Holy boards o'wood
I saw there on each, a thyn seraph-man,
Inexplycably on each set wave stood.

Thys seraph-band, was true byg wave hands:
Twas truly a heavenly syght:
As theyr boards reach'd dry land,
Each step'd onto earth in delight:

Adyeu seraph-band, ayn each wav'd a hand,
Ne encouragement they impart'd to me--
Ne help for me then; my heart it near sank,
As I spyed the great wave out at sea.

All alone dyd I hear the crash of deep stones,
Yet the power of the swell gave me cheer:
Ayn so I lyned up my trusted good board
As huge swell wyth great lyp it did rear.

Then vanysh'd all guid'n lyght from above;
Ayn the shore it was blot'd from view:
So by good God's grace, wyth me in my place,
I drop'd into the wave and I flew true.
Ne wyggl'n ne trycks ayn ne motyons I made,
I would lyve or I would dye born anew.

This Swell was the very far wynd's born chyld
Thryll'd I harness'd hys glyde and her flow:
Dear Lord in hygh Heaven! it was a deep joy
That a non-surf'n man could not know.

I rac'd down the lyne--ayn the wave it up threw:
I tuck'd deep in the polysh'd pure curl!
I hooted out loud a foul surfer oath
Ayn was trap'd in that spyn'n foam whorl.
That wave cleans'd my soul, it fayr wash'd away
Fear ayn worry of thys earth bound world.


Chum said...

Rad new design on the blog Doc! Love the new links with pics...