 | Harvest of Thoughts |  |
33
TALE OF THE HAUNTED DELL.
If by chance you should walk down the old dreary lane,
And follow its windings around;
You will come to a spot, that will ne'er be forgot;
Traditions relate it, believe it or not!
Where night shades bring sights and queer sounds.
And follow its windings around;
You will come to a spot, that will ne'er be forgot;
Traditions relate it, believe it or not!
Where night shades bring sights and queer sounds.
Far down in a valley 'twix two wooded hills,
No wood-man a tree has here fell;
'Tis said when an ax, on a tree cometh down,
Hobgoblins and gnomes spring up through the ground;
With firey eyes and hideous frown,
Defyantly loud do they yell.
No wood-man a tree has here fell;
'Tis said when an ax, on a tree cometh down,
Hobgoblins and gnomes spring up through the ground;
With firey eyes and hideous frown,
Defyantly loud do they yell.
When ever a hunter set foot in that vale,
With trusty rifle in hand;
He returns with a tale, surpassingly strange,
He talks like a man, that's almost deranged;
His walks and habits all are changed;
And he turns to a curious man.
With trusty rifle in hand;
He returns with a tale, surpassingly strange,
He talks like a man, that's almost deranged;
His walks and habits all are changed;
And he turns to a curious man.
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And many a fisherman ofttimes return,
From that vale where the brooklets flow;
With a quaint and curious, hideous smile,
Their steps were nimble, their eyes looked wild,
Their knowledge turned back to that of a child;
They had long years ago.
From that vale where the brooklets flow;
With a quaint and curious, hideous smile,
Their steps were nimble, their eyes looked wild,
Their knowledge turned back to that of a child;
They had long years ago.
'Tis said and old poet once heard of that spot,
And went, both by day and by night;
Down the old dreary lane,
With a staff for a cane,
His wits were keen and his mind was sane,
In search for a subject to write.
And went, both by day and by night;
Down the old dreary lane,
With a staff for a cane,
His wits were keen and his mind was sane,
In search for a subject to write.
But when he returned he brought a strange tale,
He told it in a strange rhyme;
The folks could not tell,
Though the rhythm sound well;
About the strange sights he saw down the dell,
What he meant, one half of the time.
He told it in a strange rhyme;
The folks could not tell,
Though the rhythm sound well;
About the strange sights he saw down the dell,
What he meant, one half of the time.
This troubled the poet, he went back again,
And roved through the dell as before;
But that night came a storm of thunder and rain,
The people did worry, they looked in vain
But the poet was seen no more.
And roved through the dell as before;
But that night came a storm of thunder and rain,
The people did worry, they looked in vain
But the poet was seen no more.
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They say that night about the lone cot,
Where the poet had dwelt so long;
Strange faces and sights the people did see,
They sang a strange sweet melody,
The poet's selfsame song.
Where the poet had dwelt so long;
Strange faces and sights the people did see,
They sang a strange sweet melody,
The poet's selfsame song.
One night a stranger entered the town,
A curious looking old man;
His robes were of a crimson hue,
His dusty feet without a shoe;
His garment skirts were wet with dew,
His face was dark and tanned.
A curious looking old man;
His robes were of a crimson hue,
His dusty feet without a shoe;
His garment skirts were wet with dew,
His face was dark and tanned.
Around him thronged a curious croud,
And asked from whence he came;
The pilgrim raised his palsied hand,
It spread a light on ev'ry man,
His voice like thunder shook the land,
And quivered all the flame.
And asked from whence he came;
The pilgrim raised his palsied hand,
It spread a light on ev'ry man,
His voice like thunder shook the land,
And quivered all the flame.
THE PILGRIM'S REPLY.
I came from yonder haunted dell,
The aged pilgrim said;
Into a lonely cave I dwell
Among dry bones of men,
Once stricken by a dreadful spell,
While coming down the glen.
The aged pilgrim said;
Into a lonely cave I dwell
Among dry bones of men,
Once stricken by a dreadful spell,
While coming down the glen.
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But there is one who lately fell
A victim in yon glen;
You've missed his foot-steps and his song,
Your hearts are sad, you've mourned him long;
He was your guide and friend.
A victim in yon glen;
You've missed his foot-steps and his song,
Your hearts are sad, you've mourned him long;
He was your guide and friend.
His spirit hovers o'er his bones,
And will not let me rest.
When e'er I wander from the cave,
I hear him calling from the grave;
Then pushing 'side his long gray beard,
A scroll took from his breast.
And will not let me rest.
When e'er I wander from the cave,
I hear him calling from the grave;
Then pushing 'side his long gray beard,
A scroll took from his breast.
And so I'll sing his last farewell,
His spirit quest me long;
And when the pilgrim oped the scroll,
'Twas written on twelve sheets of gold,
But no one caught the song.
His spirit quest me long;
And when the pilgrim oped the scroll,
'Twas written on twelve sheets of gold,
But no one caught the song.
A swell of music from afar,
Chorded with ev'ry line;
Grand was the song the pilgrim sung,
'Twas for the old, 'twas for the young,
And beings of all kind.
Chorded with ev'ry line;
Grand was the song the pilgrim sung,
'Twas for the old, 'twas for the young,
And beings of all kind.
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The birds of the wilderness circled in air,
And lit by the old pilgrim's side;
The wolf and the panther, came out from their lair,
They listened in silence: long, long, did they stare;
For no more in fear did they hide.
And lit by the old pilgrim's side;
The wolf and the panther, came out from their lair,
They listened in silence: long, long, did they stare;
For no more in fear did they hide.
The ermine and fox came out from the rocks,
For well they the song understood;
And the old haunted dell, was charmed by the spell;
Hobgoblins and gnomes awoke with a yell,
And wild witches cried in the woods.
For well they the song understood;
And the old haunted dell, was charmed by the spell;
Hobgoblins and gnomes awoke with a yell,
And wild witches cried in the woods.
The old mountain oaks, did nod on the breeze,
And kept a time with the song;
And dead men 'rose from the roots of the trees,
Who centuries past by the spell were seized,
And elbowed their way through the throng.
And kept a time with the song;
And dead men 'rose from the roots of the trees,
Who centuries past by the spell were seized,
And elbowed their way through the throng.
And when he sang of the haunted dell,
There were parts they could understand
Said—“There a wood-land witch did dwell;
On ev'ry one she cast a spell,
That wandered through the haunted dell,
Or wronged her forest land.”
There were parts they could understand
Said—“There a wood-land witch did dwell;
On ev'ry one she cast a spell,
That wandered through the haunted dell,
Or wronged her forest land.”
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At length the old pilgrim finished his song,
Then handing the golden scrole,
To a strange looking man, who came from the dark;
He moaned like a dove and sang like a lark;
Together they fled from the throng.
Then handing the golden scrole,
To a strange looking man, who came from the dark;
He moaned like a dove and sang like a lark;
Together they fled from the throng.
So ends up my tale of the old haunted dell,
Where witches and hobgoblins stay;
It is still told around, that the vale can be found;
If you follow the lane, with its windings around,
Its some where far, far, away.
Where witches and hobgoblins stay;
It is still told around, that the vale can be found;
If you follow the lane, with its windings around,
Its some where far, far, away.
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