And now she came to a horrible rift

All in the rock's hard side,
A bleak, and blasted oak, o'erspread
The cavern yawning wide.

And pendant from its dismal top
The deadly night-shade hung,

The hemlock, and the aconite,
Across the mouth were flung.

And all within, was dark, and drear,
And all without, was calm,
Yet Gondoline entered, her soul upheld
By some deep-working charm.

And, as she enter'd the cavern wide,
The moonbeam gleamed pale,
And she saw a snake on the craggy rock,
It clung by its slimy tail.

Her foot it slipp'd, and she stood aghast,
She trod on a bloated toad;

Yet still, upheld by the secret charm,
She kept upon her road.

And now upon her frozen ear

Mysterious sounds arose,

So, on the mountain's piny top,

The blustering North-wind blows.

Then furious peals of laughter loud Were heard with thundering sound,

Till they died away, in soft decay,

Low whispering o'er the ground.

Yet still the maiden onward went,
The charm yet onward led,
Though each big glaring ball of sight
Seem'd bursting from her head.

But now a pale blue light she saw,
It from a distance came,
She followed, till upon her sight,
Burst full a flood of flame.

She stood appall'd; yet still the charm
Upheld her sinking soul,

Yet each bent knee the other smote,
And each wild eye did roll.

And such a sight as she saw there,
No mortal saw before,

And such a sight as she saw there,
No mortal shall see more.

A burning cauldron stood in the midst, The flame was fierce, and high,

And all the cave so wide and long,

Was plainly seen thereby.

And round about the cauldron stout

Twelve withered witches stood:

Their waists were bound with living snakes, And their hair was stiff with blood.

Their hands were gory too; and red
And fiercely, flamed their eyes;

And they were muttering indistinct
Their hellish mysteries.

And suddenly they join'd their hands,
And uttered a joyous cry,
And round about the cauldron stout
They danced right merrily.

And now they stopt; and each prepared
To tell what she had done,

Since last the Lady of the night,
Her waning course had run.

Behind a rock stood Gondoline,

Thick weeds her face did veil, And she lean'd fearful forwarder, To hear the dreadful tale.

The first arose: She said she'd seen

Rare sport, since the blind cat mew'd,

She'd been to sea, in a leaky sieve,

And a jovial storm had brew'd.

She call'd around the winged winds,

And raised a devilish rout;

And she laugh'd so loud, the peals were heard Full fifteen leagues about.

She said there was a little bark

Upon the roaring wave,

And there was a woman there who'd been
To see her husband's grave.

And she had got a child in her arms,

It was her only child,

And oft its little infant pranks

Her heavy heart beguil'd.

And there was too in that same bark,
A father, and his son;
The lad was sickly, and the sire
Was old, and woe-begone.

And when the tempest waxed strong,

And the bark could no more it 'bide,

She said, it was jovial fun to hear
How the poor devils cried.

The mother clasp'd her orphan child

Unto her breast and wept;

And sweetly folded in her arms

The careless baby slept.

And she told how, in the shape o' the wind

As manfully it roar'd,

She twisted her hand in the infant's hair
And threw it overboard.

And to have seen the mother's pangs,
'Twas a glorious sight to see;
The crew could scarcely hold her down
From jumping in the sea.

The hag held a lock of the hair in her hand,
And it was soft and fair,

It must have been a lovely child,

To have had such lovely hair.

And she said, the father in his arms
He held his sickly son,

And his dying throes they fast arose,
His pains were nearly done.

And she throttled the youth with her sinewy hands,

And his face grew deadly blue;

And the father he tore his thin

grey

hair,

And kiss'd the livid hue.

And then she told, how she bored a hole

In the bark, and it fill'd away:

And 'twas rare to hear, how some did swear,

And some did vow, and pray.