Atta Troll Part 7

In the cauldron of the cliffs Lies the deep and inky lake.

And from heaven the solemn stars Peer upon us. Night and stillness.

Night and stillness. Beat of oars.

Like a rippling mystery Swims our boat. The nieces twain Serve in place of ferrymen.

Swift and blithe they row. Their arms Sometimes s.h.i.+ne from out the night, And on their white skins the stars Gleam and on large eyes of blue.

At my side Lascaro sits Pale and mute as is his wont, And I shudder at the thought: Is Lascaro really dead?

Or perchance 'tis I am dead?

I, perchance, am drifting down With these spectral pa.s.sengers To the icy realm of shades?

Can this lake be Styx's dark, Sullen flood? Hath Proserpine, In the absence of her Charon Sent her maids to fetch me down?

Nay, not yet my days are done!

Unextinguished in my soul Still the living flame of life, Leaps and blazes, glows and sings.

And these girls who swing their oars Merrily, and splash me too, Laugh and grin with mischief rare As the drops upon me flash.

Ah, these wenches fresh and strong, Surely they could never be Ghostly h.e.l.l-cats, nor the maids Of the dark queen Proserpine.

So that I might be a.s.sured Of the girls' reality, And unto myself might prove My own honest flesh and blood,--

On their rosy dimples I Swiftly pressed my eager lips, And to this conclusion came: Lo, I kiss; therefore I live!

When we reached the sh.o.r.e, again Did I kiss these bonny maids,-- Kisses were the only coin Which in payment they would take.

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CANTO XIV

Joyous in the golden air Lift the purple mountain heights Where a daring hamlet clings Like a nest against the steep.

Wearily I climbed and climbed.

When at last I stood aloft, Then I found the old birds flown And the fledglings left behind.

Pretty lads and la.s.sies small With their little heads half hid In their white and scarlet caps, Played at bridals in the mart.

Neither stay nor halt they brooked, And the little love-lorn Prince Of the Mice knelt down at once To the Cat-King's daughter fair.

Hapless Prince! At last he's wed To the Princess. How she scolds!

Bites him and devours him-- Hapless mouse!--thus ends the play.

That entire day I spent With the children, and we talked Cosily. They longed to know Who I was? and what my trade?

"Germany, my dears," I spoke, "Is my native country's name-- Bears are all too common there, So I took to hunting bears!

"Many a bear-pelt have I pulled Over many a bearish head, Though, 'tis true, I sometimes got Damage from their bearish paws.

"But at last I felt disgust Of this strife with ill-licked boors In my blessed land--I grew Weary of these daily moils.

"So in quest of n.o.bler game, I at last have come to you; I shall try my little strength 'Gainst the mighty Atta Troll.

"Worthy of me is this n.o.ble Foe. In Germany, alas!

Many a battle did I win, Most ashamed of victory."

When I left, the little folk Danced about me in a ring, And in sweetest wise they sang: "Girofflino! Girofflett'!"

And the youngest of them all Stepped before me quick and pert, And four times she curtsied low As she sang in silver tones:

"Curtsies two I give the King, Should I meet him. And the Queen, Should I meet her, then I give Curtsies three unto the Queen.

"But should I the devil meet With his fiery eyes and horns, I will make him curtsies four-- Girofflino! Girofflett'!"

"Girofflino! Girofflett'!"

Shouts once more the mocking band, And around me swings the gay Ring-o'-roses with its song.

As I scrambled down the slopes, After me in echoes sweet, Came these words in bird-like strains: "Girofflino! Girofflett'!"

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CANTO XV

Hulking and enormous cliffs Of deformed and twisted shapes Look on me like petrified Monsters of primeval times.

Strange! the dingy clouds above Drift like doubles bred of mist, Like some silly counterfeit Of these savage shapes of stone.

In the distance roars the fall; Through the fir trees howls the wind!

'Tis a sound implacable And as fatal as despair.

Lone and dreadful lies the waste And the black daws sit in swarms On the bleached and rotten pines, Flapping with their weary wings.

At my side Lascaro strides Pale and silent--I myself Must like sorry madness look By dire Death accompanied.