 | Romantic Ballads and Poems of Phantasy |  |
73
The Willis-Dancers.
The moonlight floods the hollow dell:—
The dell where all the city's dead
Were laid, when oft the loud plague-bell
Filled wayfarers with sudden dread:
The accursëd plague it was that swept
The young from life, and spared the old—
Who wept and lived, and lived and wept
And mourned the silent sleepers in the dell's chill fold.
The dell where all the city's dead
Were laid, when oft the loud plague-bell
Filled wayfarers with sudden dread:
The accursëd plague it was that swept
The young from life, and spared the old—
Who wept and lived, and lived and wept
And mourned the silent sleepers in the dell's chill fold.
The hollow dell is fill'd with light,
The frosty radiance of the moon;
Yet gleams there are, more weirdly bright—
And what is that slow swelling tune?
It is not any wind that blows,
For not a wafted leaf doth fall;
What is the rustling sound that grows,
As if a low wind stirred amid the poplars tall?
The frosty radiance of the moon;
Yet gleams there are, more weirdly bright—
And what is that slow swelling tune?
It is not any wind that blows,
For not a wafted leaf doth fall;
What is the rustling sound that grows,
As if a low wind stirred amid the poplars tall?
74
Yon white, yon pale green hues that shine—
Are they but fungus-growths that beam:
What moves by yon funereal pine—
What haunts the pool where marsh-fires gleam?
From out the shadow-haunted trees,
Along the nested hedgerows dumb,
And o'er the moonlit sloping leas
Singing a thin strange song the Willis-dancers come.
Are they but fungus-growths that beam:
What moves by yon funereal pine—
What haunts the pool where marsh-fires gleam?
From out the shadow-haunted trees,
Along the nested hedgerows dumb,
And o'er the moonlit sloping leas
Singing a thin strange song the Willis-dancers come.
In hurrying scores, with silent feet,
In weird processional array
They pass, with motions wild and fleet:
And now they gain the common way.
Adown the long white road they flit,
Slow-singing their unechoing song,
Till, where the Calvary, moonlit,
Crowns the low hill—round whose white base the dancers throng.
In weird processional array
They pass, with motions wild and fleet:
And now they gain the common way.
Adown the long white road they flit,
Slow-singing their unechoing song,
Till, where the Calvary, moonlit,
Crowns the low hill—round whose white base the dancers throng.
75
Fair, fair, unutterably fair,
With wild and gleaming eyes they pray
O for the breath of mortal air,
O for the joys grown faint and gray!
But never the carven god commands;
The frozen eyes nor gleam nor glance—
The Willis-folk ring phantom-hands,
Then laugh and mock and whirl away in frantic dance.
With wild and gleaming eyes they pray
O for the breath of mortal air,
O for the joys grown faint and gray!
But never the carven god commands;
The frozen eyes nor gleam nor glance—
The Willis-folk ring phantom-hands,
Then laugh and mock and whirl away in frantic dance.
Wild, wild the dance, with blazing eyes,
With flowing hair, and faun-like leaps,
With thrilling shouts, and ecstasies.
Now one withdraws, and wails, and weeps:
Her grave-blanch'd hair around her thrown,
Her white hands claspt, she doth not hear
A voice that claims her for his own,
Nor hearkens her dead Lover call in awful fear.
With flowing hair, and faun-like leaps,
With thrilling shouts, and ecstasies.
Now one withdraws, and wails, and weeps:
Her grave-blanch'd hair around her thrown,
Her white hands claspt, she doth not hear
A voice that claims her for his own,
Nor hearkens her dead Lover call in awful fear.
76
For oft when from the grave they've fled
To gain phantasmal joys on earth—
Fair youths and maids who ne'er were wed
But died within their spring-time mirth—
A fearful thing hath happ'd to some:
A joyous dancer hath withdrawn,
Hath wailed and wept, and then grown dumb,
And paled, and pass'd away ev'n as the stars at dawn.
To gain phantasmal joys on earth—
Fair youths and maids who ne'er were wed
But died within their spring-time mirth—
A fearful thing hath happ'd to some:
A joyous dancer hath withdrawn,
Hath wailed and wept, and then grown dumb,
And paled, and pass'd away ev'n as the stars at dawn.
The wan soul, with its burning gaze
From hollow eyes with anguish fill'd,
Would fain the lapsing maiden raise:
One moment all her being is thrilled
With one wild passionate desire—
Then, as a flame that is blown out,
Or as a mist in the sun's fire
She fades into the silence round the whirling rout.
From hollow eyes with anguish fill'd,
Would fain the lapsing maiden raise:
One moment all her being is thrilled
With one wild passionate desire—
Then, as a flame that is blown out,
Or as a mist in the sun's fire
She fades into the silence round the whirling rout.
77
Still wilder, swifter grows the fray:
Youths who on earth had lived in vain,
Maids who had yearned the livelong day
For ease to love's imperious pain,
All whose high hopes had come to nought,
All who for life's delights had striven,
All who had suffered, dreamt, or wrought
To make of our common Earth a glowing Heaven—
Youths who on earth had lived in vain,
Maids who had yearned the livelong day
For ease to love's imperious pain,
All whose high hopes had come to nought,
All who for life's delights had striven,
All who had suffered, dreamt, or wrought
To make of our common Earth a glowing Heaven—
All, all, with eager, frantic haste
Swift dart and glide and dance and spring—
As gnats above a stagnant waste
Will interweave in a mazy ring—
With locks that once were living gold
Tossed wildly in the moonlit air,
With panting breasts that ne'er were cold
In the dear vanish'd days ere death came unaware:
Swift dart and glide and dance and spring—
As gnats above a stagnant waste
Will interweave in a mazy ring—
With locks that once were living gold
Tossed wildly in the moonlit air,
With panting breasts that ne'er were cold
In the dear vanish'd days ere death came unaware:
78
Lovers who knew no joy of love
In the old barren years of life,
Together now enraptured move—
Claspt each to each with rapture rife:
Bosom to panting bosom pressed,
Hot lips athirst on thirsting lips,
Strange joys and languors doubly blest—
Snatch'd from the sombre grave, yea even from Death's eclipse!
In the old barren years of life,
Together now enraptured move—
Claspt each to each with rapture rife:
Bosom to panting bosom pressed,
Hot lips athirst on thirsting lips,
Strange joys and languors doubly blest—
Snatch'd from the sombre grave, yea even from Death's eclipse!
Swift, swifter grows the mystic dance
More wild, more wild, each fierce embrace:
The woe of death's inheritance
Gleams ghastly on each wildered face;
A wan grey light illumes the head
Of the carv'd god to whom they prayed:
A halt—a hush—among the dead!
A long-drawn sigh—and lo, the Willis-dancers fade!
More wild, more wild, each fierce embrace:
The woe of death's inheritance
Gleams ghastly on each wildered face;
A wan grey light illumes the head
Of the carv'd god to whom they prayed:
A halt—a hush—among the dead!
A long-drawn sigh—and lo, the Willis-dancers fade!
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