Gloomy in his gloomy cave,
In the circle of his home,
Crouches Troll, the Foe of Man,
As he growls and champs his jaws.
"Men, O crafty, pert _canaille_!
Smile away! That mighty hour
Dawns wherein we shall be freed
From your bondage and your smiles!
"Most offensive was to me
That same twitching bitter-sweet
Of the lips--the smiles of men
I found unendurable!
"When in every visage white
I beheld that fatal spasm,
Then did anger seize my bowels
And I felt a hideous qualm.
"For the smiling lips of men
More insultingly declare,
Even than their lips avouch,
All their insolence of soul.
"And they smile forever! Even
When all decency demands
Gravity--as in the moments
Of love's solemn mysteries.
"Yea, they smile forever. Even
In their dances!--desecrate
Thus this high and noble art
Which a sacred cult should be.
"Ah, the dance in olden days
Was a pious act of faith,
When the priests in solemn round
Turned about their holy shrines.
"Thus before the Covenant's
Sacred Ark King David danced.
Dancing then was worship too,--
It was praying with the legs!
"So did I regard my dance
When before the people all
In the market-place I danced
And was cheered by every soul.
"This applause, I grant you, oft
Made me feel content at heart;
Sweet it is from grudging foes
Admiration thus to win!
"Yet despite their rapture they
Still would smile and smile! My art--
Even that proved vain to save
Them from base frivolity!"
[Illustration]
[Illustration]