 | Songs of the Sea Nymphs |  |
THE INCANTATION.
Haste light-footed fairies, and mix ye a spell,
That the power of Moonbeam this night we may quell;
No matter how horrid, how grim it may be,
Speed—speed—or no longer immortals are we.
Search the cave, and the mountain, the lake, and the swamp,
The valley, the desert, and charnel house damp,
Glens, cities, and dark woods, where murder'd men shriek,
Search the ocean, the church-yard, and tall mountain peak.
Blow up the flames of crackling blue,
Nor shrink at their infernal hue;
For nine times round the cauldron we,
Must 'ere day dawn, dance merrily.
Three times nine, and nine times three,
Beneath the moonless sky dance we.
That the power of Moonbeam this night we may quell;
No matter how horrid, how grim it may be,
Speed—speed—or no longer immortals are we.
Search the cave, and the mountain, the lake, and the swamp,
The valley, the desert, and charnel house damp,
Glens, cities, and dark woods, where murder'd men shriek,
Search the ocean, the church-yard, and tall mountain peak.
Blow up the flames of crackling blue,
Nor shrink at their infernal hue;
For nine times round the cauldron we,
Must 'ere day dawn, dance merrily.
Three times nine, and nine times three,
Beneath the moonless sky dance we.
Bring the lips of a dragon, that's parched with fire,
Which he breath'd, as he flew over mountain and spire;
Fetch the fat of a martyr, just burnt at the stake,
From the lips of a madman, the raging foam take;
Steal the bag from an adder, you know where it's hung,
Well stor'd with green poison, beneath his fork'd tongue;
Bring the tooth of a mammoth, from Venice's gulf,
And a skull freshly gnaw'd, from the cave of a wolf;
Bring the head of a cat, that's lain months in a river,
And tear from the breast of a vulture its liver;
Fetch a bloated black toad, with its bright jewell'd head
You'll find him deep hid in some huge granite bed,
Blow up the flames of crackling blue,
Nor shrink at their infernal hue;
For nine times round the cauldron we,
Must 'ere day dawn, dance merrily.
Three times nine, and nine times three,
Beneath the moonless sky dance we.
Which he breath'd, as he flew over mountain and spire;
Fetch the fat of a martyr, just burnt at the stake,
From the lips of a madman, the raging foam take;
Steal the bag from an adder, you know where it's hung,
Well stor'd with green poison, beneath his fork'd tongue;
Bring the tooth of a mammoth, from Venice's gulf,
And a skull freshly gnaw'd, from the cave of a wolf;
34
And tear from the breast of a vulture its liver;
Fetch a bloated black toad, with its bright jewell'd head
You'll find him deep hid in some huge granite bed,
Blow up the flames of crackling blue,
Nor shrink at their infernal hue;
For nine times round the cauldron we,
Must 'ere day dawn, dance merrily.
Three times nine, and nine times three,
Beneath the moonless sky dance we.
From a death dropping vault, bring the slime of a snail
And cut off the rattle-snake's blood chilling tail;
From a cannibal's mouth, bring his foe's roasted bone,
Nor heed his grim look, or the next victim's groan;
Bring the head of an infant, that quivers with life,
And the mother's hand stain'd with the blood dyed knife
Fetch a worm from the grave, that has gorg'd till it's full
At its banquet of brains, in a silver hair'd skull.
A tongue white with fever, tear from the hot head,
Where it loll'd out for drink, when the weary soul fled;
Bring the thigh of a dog, that's bak'd well in the sun,
'Tis a feast raven's seek, but a smell mortals shun.
Blow up the flames of crackling blue,
Nor shrink at their infernal hue;
For nine times round the cauldron we,
Must 'ere day dawn, dance merrily.
Three times nine, and nine times three,
Beneath the moonless sky dance we.
Fetch the glittering skin of a corse glutted eel,
That has made on the mud buried sailor a meal;
From a gibbet, the arms of a murderer bring,
But hark! unmolested, let all the rest swing;
Bring the mould, which an orphan tears up with loud cries,
From the grave of its mother, who silently lies;
Tear the wing from a bat, and fairies take pains,
To find one that has revell'd 'mid mortal remains;
Dig from the church yard, some newly marked sod,
Which the foot of a pale ghost hath in the night trod;
From the mark of a mortal 'tis easily known,
For when touch'd, the dead start in their coffins and moan.
Blow up the flames of crackling blue,
Nor shrink at their infernal hue;
For nine times round the cauldron we,
Must 'ere day dawn, dance merrily.
Three times nine, and nine times three,
Beneath the moonless sky dance we.
And cut off the rattle-snake's blood chilling tail;
From a cannibal's mouth, bring his foe's roasted bone,
Nor heed his grim look, or the next victim's groan;
Bring the head of an infant, that quivers with life,
And the mother's hand stain'd with the blood dyed knife
Fetch a worm from the grave, that has gorg'd till it's full
At its banquet of brains, in a silver hair'd skull.
A tongue white with fever, tear from the hot head,
Where it loll'd out for drink, when the weary soul fled;
Bring the thigh of a dog, that's bak'd well in the sun,
'Tis a feast raven's seek, but a smell mortals shun.
Blow up the flames of crackling blue,
Nor shrink at their infernal hue;
For nine times round the cauldron we,
Must 'ere day dawn, dance merrily.
Three times nine, and nine times three,
Beneath the moonless sky dance we.
Fetch the glittering skin of a corse glutted eel,
That has made on the mud buried sailor a meal;
35
But hark! unmolested, let all the rest swing;
Bring the mould, which an orphan tears up with loud cries,
From the grave of its mother, who silently lies;
Tear the wing from a bat, and fairies take pains,
To find one that has revell'd 'mid mortal remains;
Dig from the church yard, some newly marked sod,
Which the foot of a pale ghost hath in the night trod;
From the mark of a mortal 'tis easily known,
For when touch'd, the dead start in their coffins and moan.
Blow up the flames of crackling blue,
Nor shrink at their infernal hue;
For nine times round the cauldron we,
Must 'ere day dawn, dance merrily.
Three times nine, and nine times three,
Beneath the moonless sky dance we.
Bring the heart of a father, just stab'd by his son,
With the blood trickling dagger which thro' it has run;
Bring a mother's cold breast, where a fair baby sips
The chill nipple of death, with its quivering lips;
From the monk, who has slumbered twice two hundred years
Bring his mouldering cross, and the dust of his ears;
Once more to his grave, then the spell is complete,
Fetch the white powdered bones of his time crumbled feet,
Blow up the flames of crackling blue,
Nor shrink at their infernal hue;
For nine times round the cauldron we,
Must 'ere day dawn, dance merrily.
Three times nine, and nine times three,
Beneath the moonless sky dance we.
With the blood trickling dagger which thro' it has run;
Bring a mother's cold breast, where a fair baby sips
The chill nipple of death, with its quivering lips;
From the monk, who has slumbered twice two hundred years
Bring his mouldering cross, and the dust of his ears;
Once more to his grave, then the spell is complete,
Fetch the white powdered bones of his time crumbled feet,
Blow up the flames of crackling blue,
Nor shrink at their infernal hue;
For nine times round the cauldron we,
Must 'ere day dawn, dance merrily.
Three times nine, and nine times three,
Beneath the moonless sky dance we.
| Songs of the Sea Nymphs | |