MUSAGETES.
FOR the mountains' hoarse greetings came hollow
From stormy wind-chasms and caves,
And I heard their wild cataracts wallow
Huge bulks in long spasms of waves,
And that Demon said, "Lo! you must follow!
And our path is o'er myriads of graves."
Then I felt that the black earth was porous
And rotten with worms and with bones;
And I knew that the ground that now bore us
Was cadaverous with Death's skeletons;
And I saw horrid eyes, heard sonorous
And dolorous gnashings and groans.
But the night of the tempest and thunder,
The might of the terrible skies,
And the fire of Hell that,—coiled under
The hollow Earth,—smoulders and sighs,
And the laughter of stars and their wonder
Mingled and mixed in its eyes.
And we clomb—and the moon old and sterile
Clomb with us o'er torrent and scar!
And I yearned towards her oceans of beryl,
Wan mountains and cities of spar—
"'Tis not well," that one said, "you're in peril
Of falling and failing your star."
And we clomb—through a murmur of pinions,
Thin rattle of talons and plumes;
And a sense as of Boreal dominions
Clove down to the abysms and tombs;
And the Night's naked, Ethiope minions
Swarmed on us in legions of glooms.
And we clomb—till we stood at the portal
Of the uttermost point of the peak,
And it led with a step more than mortal
Far upward some presence to seek;
And I felt that this love was immortal,
This love which had made me so weak.
We had clomb till the limbo of spirits
Of darkness and crime deep below
Swung nebular; nor could we hear its
Lost wailings and moanings of woe,—
For we stood in a realm that inherits
A vanquishing virgin of snow.