 | Forest Songs and Other Poems |  |
8
THE GREY MAN.
1
A wild wind shakes the sashes,The Forester sits alone,
And cold his heart as the ashes
Upon his cold hearth-stone.
2
The table stands in the middle,Uncleared of the morning meal,
And the unspun flax hangs idle
From the silent spinning-wheel.
3
The clock with its dreary tickingMakes loneness more forlorn,
And hark! how caught its cuckoo
That dismal note since morn?
9
4
And the wind comes whishing and sighingBy fits in the Witch's Oak,
And over the rooftree flying
Hoarsely the ravens croak.
5
A gleam of sunset glistensBlood-red on the sanded floor;
The Forester starts and listens—
What hand taps at the door?
6
Oh, comes she, reproachless, eagerTo lay with one loving kiss
The guilty ghosts that beleaguer
His soul with a dread like this?
7
Mayhap some ten-miles-off neighbourWith news she has passed his way?
“In God's name, enter!”—There enters
A lean old man in grey.
10
8
What means this mopping and mowing?The Forester's heart turns sick,
As hobbling, grinning, and bowing,
He enters—he and his Stick!
9
What devil's work is beginning?What shrieks by the Witch's Tree,
As hobbling, bowing, and grinning,
He enters—his Stick and he?
10
His nerveless arm grips tightlyThat lean old man in grey,
And over the threshold lightly
They hurry away, away!
11
Over the threshold leapingThat goblin Stick goes first,
And next goes the Grey Man, keeping
Ever his gripe accurst.
11
12
The Forester's feet seem flying,The Grey Man hobbles so fast,
And round them, shrieking and sighing,
The forest bends to the blast.
13
Fast, faster! To work they buckleIn earnest; the pace grows dire—
With many a gleeful chuckle
The Grey Man skips through the mire.
14
Whither, oh whither speed they?What end to this dreadful race?
These paths, where no Christ hangs, lead they
To yonder unhallowed place?
15
The Forest's most lone recessesO'ergloom the Unfathomed Pool;
'Tis fishless, and bud ne'er blesses
Its margin from Yule to Yule;
12
16
Its deadly ways are a wonder—Like stone sinks raft or boat,
Drawn down, sucked noiselessly under;
But sound it, and lead will float.
17
O God! as the moon smiles drearly,He suddenly sees it—there,
Like the eye of the murdered, blearly
Its waters accursed glare!
18
Their wild race ends by the margent,The Stick hath wrought its charm,
And, sneering, that grisly sergeant
Releases his prisoner's arm.
19
“All hail! In this devil's cottageYour good wife lies at rest,
Your cheer shall be Esau's pottage,
Your pillow her clay-cold breast.”
13
20
A shriek of unearthly laughter,Re-echoed in thunders dread,
And, Stick first and Grey Man after,
They've splashed in, heels over head!
21
Sudden the tempest ceasesWhen sunk are the goblin pair,
And herding her silver fleeces
The moon shines wondrous fair.
22
Alone with the awful brilliance,In silence that takes the breath,
He stands—from man's kindly millions
Remote as a soul in death.
23
But hark! what a gruesome twitterBegins from yon blasted pine!
What eyes of accusers glitter
Like ghosts' in the pale moonshine?
14
24
There, cuddled like traitor cravens,Sit gibbering three fiendlike fowls—
You could not say they were ravens,
You could not say they were owls.
25
It thrills to his inmost marrow,The song of those baleful birds;
Each note, like a poisoned arrow,
Sows seed of venomous words.
I fretted Pilate over the sea,
He drowned himself to be rid of me;
And when he lay weltering on the beach
I picked his red hands and left them to bleach.
The Three Birds.
Pilate! Pilate! leap in the flood,
And wash thy hands of that woman's blood!
15
I sat on the back of Caiaphas' chair,
I whispered sin, and I sang despair,
And when he lay strangled upon his bed,
I tore the tongue from his crafty head.
The Three Birds.
Thou Caiaphas! where is thy loving wife?
Thy tongue's false witness hath reft her life!
The Third Bird.
I roosted near when Judas was born,
I sang in his ear till he hung on the thorn,
And when he had fall'n with a ghastly shriek
His entrails I tore with my raging beak.
The Three Birds.
Judas, Judas! Thy cursed deed
Has made the five wounds of Christ to bleed!
The First Bird.
In!
The Second Bird.
In!
The Third Bird.
In!
The Three Birds.
Or we follow thee, follow thee;
Till thou wert happy that Hell should swallow thee!
16
26
He hears, and with fixed eyes staring,As drawn by a snakish spell,
He glares at the water, glaring
Snake-still as the eye of Hell.
27
The Birds are after him—quakingHe draws to the fatal verge,
Great blood-gouts the surface breaking,
The fathomless deeps upsurge;
28
The Birds are after him—stoopingUpon him with claws and beak—
He feels the wind of their swooping,
He hears their appalling shriek.
29
They shriek, they gibber, they twitter,They darken the moon's pale beam,
Till into the caldron bitter
He leaps, with a shuddering scream.
| Forest Songs and Other Poems | |