And thrice they knocked ere he moved his chair,
And said, “Whoever it be,
I dare not open the door to-night
For a fear that has come to me.”
Three times he rises from out his chair,
And three times he sits him down.
“Now what has made faint this heart of mine?”
He says with a growing frown.
“Now what has made me a coward to-night,
Who never knew fear before?
But I swear that the hand of a little child
Keeps pulling me from the door.”
The Geraldine rose from his chair at last
And opened the door full wide;
“Whoever is out in the storm,” said he,
“May in God’s name come inside!”
He who was out in the storm and rain
Drew back at the Geraldine’s call.
“Now who comes not in the Holy Name
Will never come in at all.”
He looked to the right, he looked to the left,
And never a one saw he;
But right in his path lay a coal black hound,
A-moaning right piteously.
“Come in,” he cried, “you little black hound,
Come in, I will ease your pain;
My roof shall keep you to-night at least
From the leash of wind and rain.”
The Geraldine took up the little black hound,
And put him down by the fire.
“So sleep you there, poor wandering one,
As long as your heart desire.”
The Geraldine tossed on his bed that night,
And never asleep went he
For the crowing of his little red cock,
That did crow most woefully.
For the howling of his own wolf-hound,
That cried at the gate all night.
He rose and went to the banquet hall
At the first of morning light.