Volume I Part 19 (1/2)
IV
Hawking ruin, wood-slope, and vine Reeled silver-laced under my vision, And into me pa.s.sed, with the green-eyed wine Knocking hard at my head for admission.
V
I held the village lily cheap, And the dream around her idle: Lo, quietly as I lay to sleep, The bells led me off to a bridal.
VI
My bride wore the hood of a Beguine, And mine was the foot to falter; Three cowled monks, rat-eyed, were seen; The Cross was of bones o'er the altar.
VII
The Cross was of bones; the priest that read, A spectacled necromancer: But at the fourth word, the bride I led Changed to an Opera dancer.
VIII
A young ballet-beauty, who perked in her place, A darling of pink and spangles; One fair foot level with her face, And the hearts of men at her ankles.
IX
She whirled, she twirled, the mock-priest grinned, And quickly his mask unriddled; 'Twas Adrian! loud his old laughter dinned; Then he seized a fiddle, and fiddled.
X
He fiddled, he glowed with the bottomless fire, Like Sathanas in feature: All through me he fiddled a wolfish desire To dance with that bright creature.
XI
And gathering courage I said to my soul, Throttle the thing that hinders!
When the three cowled monks, from black as coal, Waxed hot as furnace-cinders.
XII
They caught her up, twirling: they leapt between-whiles: The fiddler flickered with laughter: Profanely they flew down the awful aisles, Where I went sliding after.
XIII
Down the awful aisles, by the fretted walls, Beneath the Gothic arches:- King Skull in the black confessionals Sat rub-a-dub-dubbing his marches.
XIV
Then the silent cold stone warriors frowned, The pictured saints strode forward: A whirlwind swept them from holy ground; A tempest puffed them nor'ward.
XV
They shot through the great cathedral door; Like mallards they traversed ocean: And gazing below, on its boiling floor, I marked a horrid commotion.
XVI
Down a forest's long alleys they spun like tops: It seemed that for ages and ages, Thro' the Book of Life bereft of stops, They waltzed continuous pages.