XXXIII.
They kept the headland high; the ship
Below began to chafe her chain,
To groan as some great beast in pain;
While white fear leapt from lip to lip:
“The woods are fire! the woods are flame!
Come down and save us, in God’s name!”
He heard! he did not speak or stir,—
He thought of her, of only her.
While flames behind, before them lay
To hold the stoutest heart at bay!
Strange sounds were heard far up the flood,—
Strange, savage sounds that chilled the blood!
Then sudden from the dense dark wood
Above, about them where they stood
A thousand beasts came peering out;
And now was thrust a long black snout,
And now a tusky mouth. It was
A sight to make the stoutest pause.
“Cut loose the ship!” the black mate cried;
“Cut loose the ship!” the crew replied.
They drove into the sea. It lay
As light as ever middle day.
The while their half-blind bitch, that sat
All slobber-mouthed, and monkish cowled
With great, broad, floppy, leathern ears,
Amid the men, rose up and howled,
And doleful howled her plaintive fears,
While all looked mute aghast thereat.
It was the grimmest eve, I think,
That ever hung on Hades’ brink.
Great broad-winged bats possessed the air,
Bats whirling blindly everywhere;
It was such troubled twilight eve
As never mortal would believe.
XXXIV.
Some say the crazed hag lit the wood
In circle where the lovers stood;
Some say the gray priest feared the crew
Might find at last the hoard of gold
Long hidden from the black ship’s hold,—
I doubt me if men ever knew.
But such mad, howling, flame-lit shore
No mortal ever saw before.
Huge beasts above that shining sea,
Wild, hideous beasts with shaggy hair,
With red mouths lifting in the air,
They piteous howled, and plaintively,—
The wildest sounds, the weirdest sight
That ever shook the walls of night.