At the next door, was a death who had the most repulsive figure of all: his entire liver was consumed. He was called the death of Envy. “This one,” said Sleep, “assaults losing gamesters, slanderers, and many a female rider, who repineth at the law which rendered the wife subject to her husband.” “Pray, sir,” said I, “what is the meaning of female rider?” “Female rider,” said he, “is the term used here, for the woman who would ride her husband, her neighbours,
and her country too, if possible, and the end of her long riding will be, that she will ride the Devil, from that door, down to hell.”
Next stood the door of the death of Ambition, and of those who lift their nostrils on high, and break their shins for want of looking beneath their feet. Beside this door were crowns, sceptres, banners, all sorts of patents and commissions, and all kinds of heraldric and warlike arms.
But before I could look on any more of these countless doors, I heard a voice commanding me by my name to prepare. At this word, I could feel myself beginning to melt, like a snow ball in the heat of the sun; whereupon my master gave me some soporific drink, so that I fell asleep, but by the time I awoke, he had conveyed me to a considerable distance, on the other side of the wall. I found myself in a valley of pitchy darkness, and as it seemed to me, limitless. At the end of a little time, I could see by a dim light, like that of a dying candle, innumerable human shades—some on foot, and some on horseback, running through one another like the wind, silently and with wonderful solemnity.
It was a desert, bare, and blasted country, without grass, or vegetation, or woods, and without animals, with the exception of deadly monsters, and venomous reptiles of every kind; serpents, snakes, lice, toads, maw-worms, locusts, ear-wigs, and the like, which all exist on human corruption. Through myriads of shades, and creeping things, graves, sepulchres, and cemeteries, we proceeded, without interruption, to observe the country. At last I perceived some of the shades turning and looking upon me; and suddenly, notwithstanding the great silence that had prevailed before, there was a whispering from one to the other that there was a living
man at hand. “A living man,” said one; “a living man,” said the other; and they came thronging about me like caterpillars from every corner. “How did you come hither, sirrah?” said a little morkin of a death who was there. “Truly sir,” said I, “I know no more than yourself.” “What do they call you?” he demanded. “Call me what you please, here in your own country,” I replied, “but at home I am called the Sleeping Bard.”
At that word I beheld a crooked old man, with a double head like to a rough-barked thorn tree, raising himself erect, and looking upon me worse than the black devil himself; and lo! without saying a word, he hurled a large human skull at my head—many thanks to a tombstone which shielded me. “Pray be quiet, sir,” said I. “I am but a stranger, who was never here before, and you may be sure I will never return, if I can once reach home again.” “I will give you cause to remember having been here,” said he; and attacked me with a thigh-bone, like a very devil, whilst I avoided his blows as well as I could. “By heavens,” said I, “this is a most inhospitable country to strangers. Is there a justice of the peace here?” “Peace!” said he, “what peace do you deserve, who will not let people rest in their graves?” “Pray, sir,” said I, “may I be allowed to know your name, because I am not aware of ever having disturbed any one in this country.” “Sirrah,” said he, “know that not you are the Sleeping Bard, but that I am that person; and I have been allowed to rest here for nine hundred years, by every one but yourself.” And he attacked me again.
“Forbear, my brother,” said Merddyn, who was near at hand, “be not too hot; rather be thankful to him for keeping an honorable remembrance of your name upon earth.” “Great
honor forsooth,” said he, “I shall receive from such a blockhead as this. Sirrah! can you sing in the four-and-twenty measures? Can you carry the pedigree of Gog and Magog, and the genealogy of Brutus ap Sylfius, up to a millenium previous to the fall of Troy? Can you narrate when, and what will be the end of the combats betwixt the lion and the eagle, and betwixt the dragon and the red deer?” “Hey, hey! let me ask him a question,” said another, who was seated beside a large cauldron which was boiling, and going, bubble, bubble, over a fire. “Come nearer,” said he, “what is the meaning of this?”
“I till the judgment day
Upon the earth shall stray;
None knows for certainty
Whether fish or flesh I be.”