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Anonymous translation from the French
TOWN, tower, | |
| Shore, deep, | |
| Where lower | |
| Cliffs steep; | |
| Waves gray, | 5 |
| Where play | |
| Winds gay,— | |
| All sleep. | |
| |
| Hark! a sound, | |
| Far and slight, | 10 |
| Breathes around | |
| On the night: | |
| High and higher, | |
| Nigh and nigher, | |
| Like a fire | 15 |
| Roaring bright. | |
| |
| Now on ’t is sweeping | |
| With rattling beat, | |
| Like dwarf imp leaping | |
| In gallop fleet: | 20 |
| He flies, he prances, | |
| In frolic fancies, | |
| On wave-crest dances | |
| With pattering feet. | |
| |
| Hark, the rising swell, | 25 |
| With each nearer burst | |
| Like the toll of bell | |
| Of a convent cursed; | |
| Like the billowy roar | |
| On a storm-lashed shore,— | 30 |
| Now hushed, now once more | |
| Maddening to its worst. | |
| |
| O God! the deadly sound | |
| Of the Djinns’ fearful cry! | |
| Quick, ’neath the spiral round | 35 |
| Of the deep staircase fly! | |
| See, see our lamplight fade! | |
| And of the balustrade | |
| Mounts, mounts the circling shade | |
| Up to the ceiling high! | 40 |
| |
| ’T is the Djinns’ wild streaming swarm | |
| Whistling in their tempest-flight; | |
| Snap the tall yews ’neath the storm, | |
| Like a pine-flame crackling bright. | |
| Swift and heavy, lo, their crowd | 45 |
| Through the heavens rushing loud, | |
| Like a livid thunder-cloud | |
| With its bolt of fiery night! | |
| |
| Ha! they are on us, close without! | |
| Shut tight the shelter where we lie! | 50 |
| With hideous din the monster rout, | |
| Dragon and vampire, fill the sky! | |
| The loosened rafter overhead | |
| Trembles and bends like quivering reed; | |
| Shakes the old door with shuddering dread, | 55 |
| As from its rusty hinge ’t would fly! | |
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| Wild cries of hell! voices that howl and shriek! | |
| The horrid swarm before the tempest tossed— | |
| O Heaven!—descends my lowly roof to seek: | |
| Bends the strong wall beneath the furious host. | 60 |
| Totters the house, as though, like dry leaf shorn | |
| From autumn bough and on the mad blast borne, | |
| Up from its deep foundations it were torn | |
| To join the stormy whirl. Ah! all is lost! | |
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| O Prophet! if thy hand but now | 65 |
| Save from these foul and hellish things, | |
| A pilgrim at thy shrine I ’ll bow, | |
| Laden with pious offerings. | |
| Bid their hot breath its fiery rain | |
| Stream on my faithful door in vain, | 70 |
| Vainly upon my blackened pane | |
| Grate the fierce claws of their dark wings! | |
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| They have passed!—and their wild legion | |
| Cease to thunder at my door; | |
| Fleeting through night’s rayless region, | 75 |
| Hither they return no more. | |
| Clanking chains and sounds of woe | |
| Fill the forests as they go; | |
| And the tall oaks cower low, | |
| Bent their flaming flight before. | 80 |
| |
| On! on! the storm of wings | |
| Bears far the fiery fear, | |
| Till scarce the breeze now brings | |
| Dim murmurings to the ear; | |
| Like locusts’ humming hail, | 85 |
| Or thrash of tiny flail | |
| Plied by the pattering hail | |
| On some old roof-tree near. | |
| |
| Fainter now are borne | |
| Fitful mutterings still; | 90 |
| As, when Arab horn | |
| Swells its magic peal, | |
| Shoreward o’er the deep | |
| Fairy voices sweep, | |
| And the infant’s sleep | 95 |
| Golden visions fill. | |
| |
| Each deadly Djinn, | |
| Dark child of fright, | |
| Of death and sin, | |
| Speeds the wild flight. | 100 |
| Hark, the dull moan, | |
| Like the deep tone | |
| Of ocean’s groan, | |
| Afar, by night! | |
| |
| More and more | 105 |
| Fades it now, | |
| As on shore | |
| Ripple’s flow,— | |
| As the plaint | |
| Far and faint | 110 |
| Of a saint | |
| Murmured low. | |
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| Hark! hist! | |
| Around, | |
| I list! | 115 |
| The bounds | |
| Of space | |
| All trace | |
| Efface | |
| Of sound. | 120 |
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