"My task here is ended," muttered Peter, "but not elsewhere. Foul weather or fine, thunder or rain, I must to the church."
Bequeathing his final instructions to certain of the household who were to form part of the procession, in case it set out, he opened the hall door, and, the pelting shower dashing heavily in his face, took his way up the avenue, screaming, as he strode along, the following congenial rhymes:
EPHIALTES
I ride alone—I ride by night
Through the moonless air on a courser white!
Over the dreaming earth I fly,
Here and there—at my fantasy!
My frame is withered, my visage old,
My locks are frore, and my bones ice cold.
The wolf will howl as I pass his lair,
The ban-dog moan, and the screech-owl stare.
For breath, at my coming, the sleeper strains,
And the freezing current forsakes his veins!
Vainly for pity the wretch may sue—
Merciless Mara no prayers subdue!
To his couch I flit—
On his breast I sit!
Astride! astride! astride!
And one charm alone
—A hollow stone!—[23]
Can scare me from his side!
A thousand antic shapes I take;
The stoutest heart at my touch will quake.
The miser dreams of a bag of gold,
Or a ponderous chest on his bosom rolled.
The drunkard groans 'neath a cask of wine;
The reveller swelts 'neath a weighty chine.
The recreant turns, by his foes assailed,
To flee!—but his feet to the ground are nailed.
The goatherd dreams of his mountain-tops,
And, dizzily reeling, downward drops.
The murderer feels at his throat a knife,
And gasps, as his victim gasped, for life!
The thief recoils from the scorching brand;
The mariner drowns in sight of land!
Thus sinful man have I power to fray,
Torture, and rack, but not to slay!
But ever the couch of purity,
With shuddering glance, I hurry by.
Then mount! away!
To horse! I say,
To horse! astride! astride!
The fire-drake shoots—
The screech-owl hoots—
As through the air I glide!