The Downing legends : Stories in Rhyme The witch of Shiloh, the last of the Wampanoags, the gentle earl, the enchanted voyage |
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 | The Downing legends : Stories in Rhyme |  |
31
XXVII
Thus was it noble Downing fought,
And saw his triumph turn to naught,
While Shiloh rang with foolish scorn
And Satan lifted high his horn.
And saw his triumph turn to naught,
While Shiloh rang with foolish scorn
And Satan lifted high his horn.
Meantime the elfin maiden strolled
By midnight through the oaken wold,
And there beneath the moonshine did
Whatever Samuel's laws forbid.
Nor walked alone; beside her stole
The gracious youth who knew the right,
And pointed out the Heavenly goal
To lowly Shiloh's sons of light.
Nor he alone: the mysteries
Of wizard darkness lurked anigh;
For zephyrs murmured witching glees
And thickets whispered counsels sly;
The field-mice squeaked forbidden words,
The crickets chirruped wicked leers,
And titters came from tattling birds
And sneering owlets hooted jeers.
By midnight through the oaken wold,
And there beneath the moonshine did
Whatever Samuel's laws forbid.
Nor walked alone; beside her stole
The gracious youth who knew the right,
And pointed out the Heavenly goal
To lowly Shiloh's sons of light.
Nor he alone: the mysteries
Of wizard darkness lurked anigh;
For zephyrs murmured witching glees
And thickets whispered counsels sly;
The field-mice squeaked forbidden words,
The crickets chirruped wicked leers,
And titters came from tattling birds
And sneering owlets hooted jeers.
So, many a time, through Eblis land
This couple sauntered hand in hand,
And heard its naughty echoes ring
As gladsome music, sweeter far
To them than any caroling
Of saints beyond the morning star;
Nor cared though many a cloven foot
Behind them tracked their paradise;
Nor cared though poison dewed its fruit
And all its roses budded lies.
This couple sauntered hand in hand,
And heard its naughty echoes ring
As gladsome music, sweeter far
To them than any caroling
Of saints beyond the morning star;
Nor cared though many a cloven foot
Behind them tracked their paradise;
Nor cared though poison dewed its fruit
And all its roses budded lies.
| The Downing legends : Stories in Rhyme | |