With icy talons gripp’d the frigid plain.
December brought its store of Christmas cheer,
And grateful peasants hail’d the op’ning year;
But by the hearth as Candlemas drew nigh,
The whisp’ring ancients spoke of things gone by.
Few had forgot the dark demoniac lore
Of things that came the Candlemas before,
And many a crone intently eyed the house
Where dwelt the sadden’d bailiff and his spouse.
At last the day arriv’d, the sky o’erspread
With dark’ning messengers and clouds of lead;
Each neighb’ring grove Aeolian warnings sigh’d,
And thick’ning terrors broadcast seem’d to bide.
The good folk, tho’ they knew not why, would run
Swift past the bailiff’s door, the scene to shun;
Within the house the grieving couple wept,
And mourn’d the child who now forever slept.
On rush’d the dusk in doubly hideous form,
Borne on the pinions of the gath’ring storm;
Unusual murmurs fill’d the rainless wind,
The rising river lash’d the troubled shore;
Black thro’ the night the awful storm-god prowl’d,
And froze the list’ners’ life-blood as he howl’d;
Gigantic trees like supple rushes sway’d,
Whilst for his home the trembling cotter pray’d.
Now falls a sudden lull amidst the gale;
With less’ning force the circling currents wail;
Far down the stream that laves the neighb’ring mead
Burst a new ululation, wildly key’d;
The peasant train a frantic mien assume,
And huddle closer in the spectral gloom:
To each strain’d ear the truth too well is known,
For that dread sound can come from wolves alone!
The rustics close attend, when ere they think,
A lupine army swarms the river’s brink;
From out the waters leap a howling train
That rend the air, and scatter o’er the plain:
With flaming orbs the frothing creatures fly,
And chant with hellish voice their hungry cry.
First of the pack a mighty monster leaps
With fearless tread, and martial order keeps;
Th’ attendant wolves his yelping tones obey,
And form in columns for the coming fray:
No frighten’d swain they harm, but silent bound
With a fix’d purpose o’er the frozen ground.
Straight course the monsters thro’ the village street,
Unholy vigour in their flying feet;
Thro’ half-shut blinds the shelter’d peasants peer,
And wax in wonder as they lose in fear.
Th’ excited pack at last their goal perceive,
And the vex’d air with deaf’ning clamour cleave;
The churls, astonish’d, watch th’ unnatural herd
Flock round a cottage at the leader’s word:
Quick spreads the fearsome fact, by rumour blown,
That the doom’d cottage is the bailiff’s own!
Round and around the howling daemons glide,
Whilst the fierce leader scales the vine-clad side;
The frantic wind its horrid wail renews,
And mutters madly thro’ the lifeless yews.
In the frail house the bailiff calmly waits
The rav’ning horde, and trusts th’ impartial Fates,
But the wan wife revives with curious mien
Another monster and an older scene;
Amidst th’ increasing wind that rocks the walls,
The dame to him the serpent’s deed recalls:
Then as a nameless thought fills both their minds,
The bare-fang’d leader crashes thro’ the blinds.
Across the room, with murd’rous fury rife,
Leaps the mad wolf, and seizes on the wife;
With strange intent he drags his shrieking prey
Close to the spot where once the coffin lay.
Wilder and wilder roars the mounting gale
That sweeps the hills and hurtles thro’ the vale;
The ill-made cottage shakes, the pack without
Dance with new fury in demoniac rout.
Quick as his thought, the valiant bailiff stands
Above the wolf, a weapon in his hands;
The ready axe that serv’d a year before,
Now serves as well to slay one monster more.
The creature drops inert, with shatter’d head,
Full on the floor, and silent as the dead;
The rescu’d wife recalls the dire alarms,
And faints from terror in her husband’s arms.
But as he holds her, all the cottage quakes,
And with full force the titan tempest breaks:
Down crash the walls, and o’er their shrinking forms
Burst the mad revels of the storm of storms.
Th’ encircling wolves advance with ghastly pace,
Hunger and murder in each gleaming face,
But as they close, from out the hideous night
Flashes a bolt of unexpected light:
The vivid scene to ev’ry eye appears,
And peasants shiver with returning fears.
Above the wreck the scatheless chimney stays,
Its outline glimm’ring in the fitful rays,
Whilst o’er the hearth still hangs the household shrine,