Shipless Argonauts are we,
Foot loose in the mighty hills,
But instead of golden fleece
We seek Bruin's shaggy hide.
Naught but sorry devils twain,
Heroes of a modern cut,
And no classic bard will ever
Make us live within his song!
Even though we suffered dire
Hardships! What torrential rains
Fell upon us at the peak
Where was neither tree nor cab!
Cloudbursts! Heaven's dykes were down!
And in bucketsful it poured--
Jason, lost on Colchis bleak,
Suffered no such shower-bath!
"Six-and-thirty kings I'll give
Just for one umbrella now!"
So I cried. Umbrella none
Was I offered in that flood.
Weary unto death and glum,
Wet as drownèd rats, we came
Back unto the witch's hut
In the middle of the night.
There beside the glowing hearth
Sat Uraka with a comb,
Toiling o'er her swollen pug;--
Him she quickly flung aside
As we entered. First my couch
She prepared, then bent to loose
From my feet the _espardillos_,--
Footgear comfortless and rude!
Helped me to disrobe,--she drew
Off my pantaloons which clung
To my legs as close and tight
As the friendship of a fool.
"Oh, a dressing-gown! I'd give
Six-and-thirty kings," I cried,
"For a dry one!"--as my shirt,
Wringing wet, began to steam.
Shivering, with chattering teeth,
There I stood beside the hearth,
Till the fire drowsed me quite,
Then upon the straw I sank.
Sleepless but with blinking eyes
Peered I at the witch who crouched
By the fire with her son's
Body spread upon her lap.
Upright at her side the pug
Stood, and in his clumsy paws,
Very cleverly and tight,
Held aloft a little jar.
From this did Uraka take
Reddish fat and salved therewith
Swift Lascaro's ribs and breast
With her thin and trembling hands.
And she hummed a lullaby
In a high and nasal tone
As she rubbed him with the salve
'Midst the crackling of the fire.
Sere and bony like a corpse
Lay the son upon the lap
Of his mother; opened wide
Stared his pale and tragic eyes.
Is he really dead, this man?
Kept alive by mother-love?
Nightly by the witch-fat potent
Salved into a magic life?
Oh, that strange, strange fever-sleep!
In which all my limbs grew stiff
As if fettered, yet each sense,
Overwrought, waked horribly!
How that smell of hellish herbs
Plagued me! Musing in my woe,
Long I thought where had I once
Smelled such odours?--but in vain.
How the wind within the flue
Wrought me terror! Like the sobs
Of some parchèd soul it rang--
Or some well-remembered voice!
But these stuffed birds standing guard
On a board above my head,
These grim birds tormented me
Far beyond all other things!
Slowly, gruesomely they moved
Their accursèd wings and bent
Low to me with monstrous bills,
Bills like human noses huge.
Where had I such noses seen?
Well, mayhap in Hamburg once,
Or in Frankfort's ghetto dim;
Memory smote me harshly then.
But at last did slumber quite
Overcome me and in place
Of such waking phantoms crept
Wholesome and unbroken dreams.
And within my dream the hut
Quickly to a ball-room changed,
High on lofty pillars borne
And illumed by chandeliers.
There invisible musicians
Played from "Robert le Diable"
That atrocious dance of nuns
As I promenaded there.
But at last the portals wide
Open and with stately step
Slowly in the hall appear
Guests most wonderful and strange.
Every one a bear or spectre!
Striding upright every bear
Leads an apparition wrapped
In a white and gleaming shroud.
Coupled in this wise, each pair
Up and down began to waltz
Through the hall. O strangest sight!
Fit for laughter and for fear!
How those plump old animals
Panted in the paces set
By those filmy shapes of air
Whirling gracefully and light!
Pitiless, the harried beasts
Thus were borne along until
Their deep panting overdroned
Even the orchestral bass!
When betimes the couples crashed
In collision, then each bear
Gave the pushing spectre straight
Hearty kicks upon the rump.
Sometimes in the tumult too
When the cerements fell away
From each white and muffled head,--
Lo! a grinning skull appeared!
But at last with shattering blare
Yelled the horns, the cymbals clashed
And the thunder of the drums
Brought about the gallopade.
But the end of this, alas,
Came not to my dreams. For, lo,
One most clumsy bear trod full
On my corns--I shrieked and woke!
[Illustration]
[Illustration]