And off they set, each right content—
Who knows the dreary way they went?
But Jack felt rather faint and spent,
And out of breath;
At last he saw, quite evident,
The Door of Death.
All other men had been unmann’d
To see a coffin on each hand,
That served a skeleton to stand
By way of sentry;
In fact, Death has a very grand
And awful entry.
Throughout his dismal sign prevails,
His name is writ in coffin nails;
The mortal darts make area rails;
A skull that mocketh,
Grins on the gloomy gate, and quails
Whoever knocketh.
And lo! on either side, arise
Two monstrous pillars—bones of thighs;
A monumental slab supplies
The step of stone,
Where waiting for his master lies
A dog of bone.
The dog leapt up, but gave no yell,
The wire was pull’d, but woke no bell,
The ghastly knocker rose and fell,
But caused no riot;
The ways of Death, we all know well,
Are very quiet.
Old Bones stept in; Jack stepp’d behind;
Quoth Death, I really hope you’ll find
The entertainment to your mind,
As I shall treat ye—
A friend or two of goblin kind,
I’ve asked to meet ye.
And lo! a crowd of spectres tall,
Like jack-a-lanterns on a wall,
Were standing—every ghastly ball—
An eager watcher.
“My friend,” says Death—“friends, Mr. Hall,
The body-snatcher.”
Lord, what a tumult it produced,
When Mr. Hall was introduced!
Jack even, who had long been used
To frightful things,
Felt just as if his back was sluic’d
With freezing springs!
Each goblin face began to make
Some horrid mouth—ape—gorgon—snake;
And then a spectre-hag would shake
An airy thigh-bone;
And cried, (or seem’d to cry,) I’ll break
Your bone, with my bone!
Some ground their teeth—some seem’d to spit—
(Nothing, but nothing came of it,)
A hundred awful brows were knit
In dreadful spite.
Thought Jack—“I’m sure I’d better quit
Without good-night.”