I hide me in some winding shell, And bid its lips with music swell; Then ditties fill the air around, Then choral strains together rise, Now one soft-flowing single sound Is heard, then at a distance dies; That warbling is my melody, It is the seaman's lullaby.
At night, when thick white fogs arise, When no star glimmers in the skies; When the moon huddles up her horn, I watch the traveller forlorn; Lost and bewildered on his way,
He knows not where to turn, the wood Is dark and drear, and wild dismay And terror freeze his curdling blood: As through the gloom his footsteps roam, He thinks upon his cheerful home;
And then, when every bleeding thought With anguish and despair is fraught,
I come to lend a friendly ray, To light him on his dismal way: I dissipate the mists that clog The loaded air; the fires I call That dance o'er moor, o'er fen, and bog: I call them, they are present all
To do my bidding, and to lend Their light to him whom I befriend.
Sometimes, a night-fire in each hand, Upon his horse's neck I stand,
And thus I guide his longing eyes To where the path, seen clearly, lies; And oft along the mazy way, In radiant panoply, I dance; Around my helm bright meteors play, A blazing meteor is my lance: My lance and brightening helmet lend Their light to him whom I befriend.
But if no meteors dance about,
If all the night-fires are gone out,
And all is gloomy, thick, and dark, I counterfeit the watch-dog's bark; And first I strike his watchful ear a As if from far, and then I pour
A dinning peal, that seems quite near; I lead him onward with my roar Till from some cottage seen, a light Directs his footsteps through the night.
Thus oft I use my friendly power: But if in evening's dusky hour Some crafty carl, or cheating knave, Draws near the precincts of my cave, I bid dun wreathing mists arise; Dun wreathing mists soon spread around, And hide the twilight of the skies. Then raise I many a fearful sound,
I bid the owl's loud whoop combine With the lone hedge-pig's sullen whine.
2 The xтUπov dedopna of Æschylus will surely justify the use of this expression.
The culprit feels his way in dread, Creeping along with cautious tread; Then in his ear I whistle loud, And hurrying sounds together croud; Deep noises follow him behind, Which way he turns a noise is there, It shifts about in every wind;
Frantic he grows and wild with fear: Against his feet rolls some strange heap And down he falls in swooning sleep.
Or else, to lead the wretch astray, I roll blue fen-fires in his way; Before him on his path they glide, As if his erring steps to guide ; Till all at once their flames go out,
Then with swift whirl, and dazzling light,
They tumble round, and whiz about, Then scatter wide, then re-unite;
And many a sad and weary round
They lead through mire and plashy ground.
Or else I lead him to and fro, Where thorny brakes and brambles grow, Till in some quagmire fixt at last,
Or reedy fen, I leave him fast;
Then hissing snakes his arms confine
With strict embrace, and round him draw
Their icy scales in sinuous twine,
And warty newts his fingers gnaw; While in his ear the owlet sings, And flaps him with her heavy wings.
Thus oft, in evening's dusky hour, I joy to exercise my power; I scare the pirate on the flood, I fright the robber in the wood; And if, defiled by dark deceit, Oppression, avarice, or fraud, Some wretch approaches my retreat, I send my elfin sprites abroad; With speed my elfin sprites obey, And fly to haunt him in his way :
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