GONDOLINE; A BALLAD. THE night it was still, and the moon it shone Serenely on the sea, And the waves at the foot of the rifted rock When Gondoline roam'd along the shore, Though love had made bleak the rose on her cheek, Her thoughts they were drear, and the silent tear It fill'd her faint blue eye, As oft she heard, in Fancy's ear, Her Bertrand was the bravest youth And he was gone to the Holy Land And many a month had pass'd away, But nothing the maid from Palestine Full oft she vainly tried to pierce And every night she placed a light To guide her lover to the land, Should the murky tempest lower. But now despair had seiz'd her breast, She wander'd o'er the lonely shore, She heard the scream with a sickening heart Yet still she kept her lonely way, And this was all her cry, "Oh! tell me but if Bertrand live, "And I in peace shall die." And now she came to a horrible rift, A bleak and blasted oak o'erspread And pendant from its dismal top The hemlock and the aconite Across the mouth were flung. And all within was dark and drear, Yet Gondoline entered, her soul upheld And, as she enter'd the cavern wide, The moonbeam gleamed pale, And she saw a snake It clung by its slimy tail. Her foot it slipped, and she stood aghast, She trod on a bloated toad; Yet, still upheld by the secret charm, She kept upon her road. Mysterious sounds arose, So, on the mountain's piny top, Then furious peals of laughter loud Were heard with thundering sound, Till they died away in soft decay, Low whispering o'er the ground. Yet still the maiden onward went, But now a pale blue light she saw, She stood appall'd; yet still the charm And such a sight as she saw there, And such a sight as she saw there, A burning cauldron stood in the midst, The flame was fierce and high, And all the cave so wide and long, Was plainly seen thereby. And round about the cauldron stout Twelve withered witches stood: Their waists were bound with living snakes, And their hair was stiff with blood. Their hands were gory too; and red And suddenly they join'd their hands, And round about the cauldron stout And now they stopt; and each prepar'd Since last the Lady of the night Behind a rock stood Gondoline, And she lean'd fearful forwarder, The first arose: She said she'd seen Rare sport since the blind cat mew'd, She'd been to sea in a leaky sieve, And a jovial storm had brew'd. |