The team

• Will Newman
• Angela Wilkinson
• Catherine Mills
• Charlotte Hodgson
• Frances Hall
• Ruth Gordon
• Stephen Booth
• Blythe Aimson

Other teams

• 
• 
• 
• 

The Mermaid poem by Henry Kirke Find!

Here is the poem about the Mermaid of the Mermaid Pool on Kinder (though it could be one of the other Mermaid pools in the Peak as there are no less than 3!) The others are at the Roaches, known as the Doxey Pool and the Black Meer of Morridge on the moors between Leek and Buxton. I got the info and the poem out of that excellent book, Derbyshire Traditions by Clarence Daniel (Dalesman books 1975)

There is a land within a northern clime

Where many a mountain reaches to the clouds,

That rest their billowy fleeces on its head,

And roll adown its rugged, storm-rent sides.

At foot of such a mountain in this land

There lies a pool, dark and mysterious,

Shadowed by blackended rocks, and sedges drear,

In which not reedy warbler builds its nests;

No heather nods its bells unmusical

Around its banks, no sombre-coated bee

Hums over it a busy melody;

No speckled trout or dark-backed umber there

Wake the still waters with their circling leaps;

No chattering grouse drops in the doubtful wave

Feathers that float like tiny argosies;

Nor furry-footed coney stops to drink

Its waters salt as those their watch that keep

Over the doomed towns of Palestine

With solemn awe the lonely shepherd treads

Past the weird margin of the mountain tarn,

Fearing the sprite that dwells within its depths,

And rot, and ague, and a thousand ills

He thinks such fearsome folks are wont to give

To those that trespass on their sovereignty

 

But one there was a sprightly lad and tall,

And gifted with a face in which for mastery

Action and thought seemed always combating,

Who always felt attracted to the pool,

And sat for many hours plumbing its depth

With anxious eyes; but nought saw he therein

Save the reflection of his comely face.

Warning he had full oft from wiser men

To meddle not in such a dangerous quest,

Nor seek for death with death was surely found:

For 'tis believed that on a certain eve

When summer fruits are ripe, and in the sky

The stars can scarcely light their shining lamps,

And the soft air is strangely musical

With the faint hum of fairy merriment,

A maiden, strangely fair, but strangely formed,

Rises from out the pool, and by her songs

And heavenly beauty lures to shameful death

The luckless wight who hears her melodies.

 

 

But youth is curious, and the shepherd lad

Longed with intense desire to see the maid. 

He dreamt of her by night, her white arm seemed

To lock him in a clinging, fond embrace;

She haunted him by day as moodily

He watched beside the pool, and seemed to see

In each reflected cloud her drapery. 

 

At last the night arrived, the sun just dipped

His rosy fingers in the pathless sea,

Leaving the world not dark, but hardly light;

The waning stars scarce marked the azure sky,

And zephyrs gently cooled the heated earth:

'Twas just the hour when night and morning meet

When, watching still, the boy sat eagerly,

On a huge stone that darkened all the pool;

When suddenly the wave gleamed fitfully

With sudden light, as in the tropic seas

The lambent waves shine with phosphoric glare,

And brighter grew the water, and the air

Was filled with music ravishingly sweet. 

 

The youth stood gazing at these mysteries,

And saw from out the troubled waves arise

A maiden, clothed alone in loveliness;

Her golden hair fell o'er her shoulders white,

And curled in amorous ringlets round her breasts;

Her eyes were melting into love, her lips

Had made the very roses envious;

Withal a voice so full, and yet so clear,

So tender, made for loving dialogues.

And then she sang - sang of undying love

That waited them within her coral groves

Beneath the deep blue sea, and all the bliss

That mortals made immortal could enjoy,

Who lived with her in sweet community.

 

She sang, and stretching out her rounded arms,

She bade him leap and take her for his own -

With one wild cry he leapt, and with a splash

That roused the timid moorhen from her nest,

Sank 'neath the darkling wave for evermore

 

 

 

 

1 October 2009 from Ruth Gordon

All blog posts | RSS feed

Recent posts

• Derbyshire Reading Detectives finale
• Reading Detectives in the News
• Buxton Ghost Walk
• Days at the Museum
• Stephen Booth
• Ghostwalkers in Buxton
• First meeting

All blog posts

Help the team

Have you got something to contribute? You can contact us to report your clues and you can comment on our blog posts. It doesn't matter where in the world you are!

See posts tagged with