THE DREAM 
 
 .WILSON DULEY 
 
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 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
THE DREAM OF HELL 
 
 BY 
 
 G. WILSON DULEY 
 
 BOSTON 
 RICHARD G. BADGER 
 
 THE GORHAM PRESS 
 I906 
 
Copyright 1906 by C. Wilson Duley 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 .-■■ •..t* - MM 
 
 LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
 Two C3pies Received 
 
 DEC 14 1908 
 
 ' Copyright Entry 
 CUSS A XXc„ Ne, 
 
 / (c <3 /&?. 
 
 COPY B. 
 
 A 
 
 ■' . 'A 
 
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 7%^ G or ham Press, Boston 
 
PREFACE 
 
 Neither Heaven nor Hell have geographical 
 metes and bounds, but rather have they psycho- 
 logical boundaries which vary as the consciousness 
 of individuals vary in their scope. 
 
 Consciousness is the basic principle on which 
 the worlds are builded, since were it not for our 
 own conscious existence, to us, there would be no 
 worlds. 
 
 In presenting a poem, of the character of the 
 Dream of Hell, in an age when religion, and science 
 both physical and metaphysical, are claiming so 
 much of the attention of advanced thinkers, I 
 must needs do it at the risk of having the poem 
 variously interpreted. 
 
 The thought world is today in the throes of a 
 new birth. Time honored systems and stereo- 
 typed beliefs are crumbling to decay, while from 
 the ash-heap of colossal superstition and intel- 
 lectual pride is springing the primative ideal of 
 "Peace on earth, good will toward men. " 
 
 The literalist will read my poem, and, perhaps, 
 be terrified by the horribleness of the pictures 
 with which it abounds, while the more liberal 
 thinker will give it a freer interpretation, and see 
 in the word-pictures only the bodying forth of the 
 idea of retributive justice. 
 
Justice is an infinite principle, which holds un- 
 disputed sway in Heaven, in Earth, and in Hell, 
 and while it bids us at all times to shape our course 
 anew, yet were we asked the most stupendous 
 task ever undertaken by man, straightway should 
 we reply, "Picking up the threads of a broken 
 life; the healing of a bruised reed." 
 
 The poem is not geographical but psychological, 
 having for its object the teaching of retributive 
 justice, and how utterly nugatory is self justifi- 
 cation. Some of the verses are silhouettes sharply 
 outlined in the twilight chambers of my own soul, 
 while others are craven images which I have 
 found floating in the universal conscience, in the 
 calm and quietness of the inner sanctuary, and in 
 the deep, deep recesses of the underworld. 
 
 You who read superficially will read my poem 
 and lay it aside as something too terrible for con- 
 templation ; but the thinker will wander through 
 its gallery of word-pictures and retrace his steps 
 the second, and, perchance, the third time. If 
 within that gallery of fantastic dreams, you find 
 some of your own soul pictures, remember it was 
 thou, who painted them thus, and not I. 
 
 I hold forth my hand in the darkness ; I feel the 
 touch of a kindred hand, and I know that my 
 words have not been misinterpreted nor my 
 efforts vain. 
 

 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 
 Prelud 
 
 'e . . 
 
 
 7 
 
 13 
 
 Canto 
 
 One — 
 
 The Woful Wold . . . 
 
 Canto 
 
 Two- 
 
 -The Dark Morass. 
 
 14 
 
 Canto 
 
 Three 
 
 — The Unholy Bird 
 
 14 
 
 Canto 
 
 Four- 
 
 —The Phantom Star 
 
 15 
 
 Canto 
 
 Five— 
 
 -The Tale-Bearing Gutter 
 
 !5 
 
 Canto 
 
 Six — 
 
 The Vision of Death 
 
 16 
 
 Canto 
 
 Seven- 
 
 — The Resurrection . 
 
 18 
 
 Canto 
 
 Fight- 
 
 — The Color Vision . 
 
 19 
 
 Canto 
 
 Nine- 
 
 —The Conjunction of World 
 
 s 20 
 
 Canto 
 
 Ten — 
 
 -The Evil Spirit . 
 
 20 
 
 Canto 
 
 Eleven — The Respite . 
 
 21 
 
 Canto 
 
 Twelve — Re-Creation . 
 
 23 
 
 Canto 
 
 Thirteen — The Deathless Worm 
 
 ■ 24 
 
 Canto 
 
 Fourteen — The Chimes 
 
 25 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 
 Canto Fifteen — The Incantation . . 25 
 
 Canto Sixteen — The Continent ... 26 
 
 Canto Seventeen — The Nun .... 27 
 Canto Eighteen — The Planetary Pro- 
 
 cessional ... 28 
 
 Canto Nineteen — The Prayer ... 29 
 
 Canto Twenty — Second Sight ... 32 
 
 6 
 
THE DREAM OF HELL 
 (PRELUDE) 
 
 All day had fall'n the silent shroud, 
 
 The earth was snow, the heaven was cloud ; 
 
 And through the white subsilent deep 
 Coyote chased jack-hare, leap on leap. 
 
 When evening came the sun's last rays 
 Shot through a sad and glimmering haze ; 
 
 Then haunted darkness settled o'er 
 A solitary wind swept shore. 
 
 From out the lonesome, hollow wind 
 Weird fancy flitted to my mind; 
 
 If 'twere not fancy as I think, 
 
 Henceforth my soul in fear shall shrink. 
 
 Thus while I sat in grewsome doubt 
 Within my chamber, hung about 
 
 By formless ghost and midnight knell 
 Bemoaning every soul in hell — 
 
A man there came ; may souls ne'er rise 
 To stand at judgment in the skies 
 
 If there were e'er such haggard brow- 
 As this, which holds my vision now. 
 
 Like pestilence from the leper's cell 
 His ashen hair about him fell ; 
 
 Like penitential sack-cloth flung 
 
 His antique garments round him hung. 
 
 The pallor that his countenance wore 
 Ne'er since I've seen, nor saw before; 
 
 With hand that mocked the grave-yard mold 
 He touched my heart and turned it cold. 
 
 Forth from his languid eye there shot 
 A mournful gleam I've ne'er forgot ; 
 
 Remorse swept o'er my heaving breast 
 At sight of this gaunt, evening guest. 
 
 For speech I tried each subtle art 
 
 But maudlin words died in my heart ; 
 
 I shaped my lips, and tried to pray ; 
 Lewd curses drove the prayers away. 
 
 8 
 
When fear had robbed me of my sense 
 And darkness, never more intense, 
 
 Had closed o'er all save this sad man, 
 He swept his brow, and thus began : — 
 
 ' ' Hence from the reeling pits of hell, 
 Hence from the caldron of despair 
 
 Where demons eerie stories tell, 
 
 And flaming goads the imps do bear. 
 
 Though fettered by this grave-yard dust 
 
 I have a tale to tell 
 Which, though it sear my lips, I must, 
 
 And hie me back to hell. 
 
 A legion legion, hissing things 
 Hold wide the brazen gate ; 
 
 A blazing cloud of flaming wings 
 Doth fan the heat lest it abate. 
 
 Mortal, thou, on mortal shore, 
 
 Thy duty well perform, 
 For time will come when thou no more 
 
 Shalt feel the pulse-beat warm. 
 
 9 
 
Behold ! the shadow of thy mind, 
 Clothed in these trappings gray 
 
 Thou thinkest murder and rapine, 
 
 Remember ! heaven shall judge thy way. 
 
 Like couplets from some vulgar lay 
 
 Sung by some senuous muse 
 The thoughts you think live on alway 
 
 To damn you and abuse. 
 
 This day thy mind lay couchant there 
 
 Within the brothel curst 
 And plundered virtue wallows where 
 
 Pure thoughts did dwell at first ; 
 
 But list ! what curses swift doth come 
 To him who will the right disdain ; 
 
 Hell grants not time to tell the sum 
 Of tortures on the sons of Cain. 
 
 This soul, a dove, did nestle in 
 A tenement fairer far than thine ; 
 
 But now a vulture, steeped in sin, 
 In reeking hell is wont to dine. 
 
 10 
 
But haste me, haste me, glutted fiend, 
 
 To tell the message that I bear; 
 My time is drawing to its end 
 
 And yet my message to declare ! 
 
 Hence, mortal man, to dream this night in hell ! 
 
 My message has been said ; 
 Know thou, what misery can tell 
 
 When soul leaves body out among the dead. '• 
 
 11 
 
THE DREAM 
 Canto I. The: Woful Wold 
 
 Alone, I lay on a wild and woful wold ; 
 
 Sad witches dallied with my frighted hair; 
 A guttural hiss swept down the night wind cold, _ 
 
 And sweltering jackals made with me their lair. 
 
 The stars looked down from wannish skies, 
 
 Their light like sorrow fell ; 
 And like curses from a dead man's eyes, 
 
 They plagued the fires of hell. 
 
 A squalid river neath me flowed 
 
 And ever as it passed, 
 In ghoulish phantasy there rowed, 
 
 Weird imps, each grimmer than the last. 
 
 On every bending bank did lie 
 
 A church yard on the hill, 
 And languidly it wandered by 
 
 A melancholy, haunted mill. 
 
 13 
 
It sobbed beneath a willow biack, 
 Then anguished o'er a stone ; 
 
 It faltered through a bloody track 
 
 Where a hellish hag grinned all alone. 
 
 Canto II. The Dark Morass 
 
 A dark morass crept to my feet 
 And breathed its fetid breath ; 
 
 While a million shapeless, woolly wings 
 Beat harmony, to death. 
 
 Its surface worked with noisome things, 
 
 Bach one was earthly deeds, 
 And when I writhed 'mid poison stings, 
 
 A haggish titter rippled mongst the reeds. 
 
 Canto III. The Unholy Bird 
 
 Athwart this stench a bastard bird did fly, 
 Drank blood from out my heart; 
 
 And before me stood a greasy wench, 
 Who charged me of her sin a part. 
 
 Like lank she- wolf with sluttish hair, 
 She chilled my rising sense, 
 
 Like virtue shrank the withering air 
 From fallen innocence. 
 
 14 
 
Canto IV. The Phantom Star 
 
 A mountain, like a camel rose, 
 
 And bore me on its crest, 
 A beetling fiend, it made me lose 
 
 The shadow of my wanton guest. 
 
 It hurled me through the fainty air, 
 
 Where all was wan and far, 
 Yet, now and then swept through my hair 
 
 A lurid, hissing, phantom star. 
 
 Nor height, nor depth, nor sound was there ; 
 
 O viewless, endless hell ! 
 Thy kingdom is the everywhere, 
 
 Thy terrors none can tell. 
 
 But soon, O dream of terror curst ! 
 
 So fast did fall this mountain rude, 
 I lay where I had lain at first, 
 
 And wantons danced about me, nude. 
 
 Canto V. The Talk- Bearing Gutter 
 
 Then fraught with many a murderous tale, 
 A gurgling gutter trembled near; 
 
 Its secrets made the pit-fires pale, 
 
 And demons drop their blistering tear. 
 
 15 
 
It gushed in sorrow o'er my breast, 
 
 And ever as it gushed 
 It whispered tales, the very least, 
 
 Would turn a stone to dust. 
 
 Stark limbs, stiff hair, did rankle o'er 
 My shuddering, trembling frame ; 
 
 Cold maiden-arms clung more and more 
 And plagued me with their shame. 
 
 Canto VI. Ths Vision of Death 
 
 Oh ! frightful turn of awful dreams 
 What should fiends next contrive ? 
 
 An open grave and, as it seems, 
 I lay in it alive. 
 
 I saw the yellow, sordid clay 
 And the sexton grim and old; 
 
 And as I in my coffin lay 
 
 I felt the pale shroud fold on fold. 
 
 I heard the mourners' plaintive shriek, 
 I felt the bursting of the tear ; 
 
 But when I tried my best to speak, 
 I only, could my faint words hear. 
 
 16 
 
I saw the long procession marching by 
 
 And heard the murmured words of hopeless hope, 
 
 I heard the pastor falter, "Sinners die 
 And ever after in the darkness grope. " 
 
 And with that long procession as it sped, 
 A man, in life, whom I had known to hate, 
 
 So fierce he gloated o'er the listless dead, 
 He seemed the last grim monitor of fate. 
 
 So quick he hasted from the dead away, 
 His wicked image left he on my glassy eye, 
 
 And heavy on my aching orbs it lay, 
 
 And shall, till naught but vagrant dust am I. 
 
 I felt the falling of the clanking clod 
 
 And heard its echo through my gloomy cell ; 
 "Earth is no more," thought I, "Ah! where is 
 God?" 
 From midnight silence came the whisper, "None 
 can tell." 
 
 17 
 
Canto VII. The Resurrection 
 
 Then ghostly tappings fell upon my coffin lid 
 And roused me from my dream of death, 
 
 While the shattered form, in moldering cerements 
 hid, 
 Now feels the wavering of accursed breath. 
 
 Oh, resurrection ! fraught with nameless pain, 
 I rose to wade in lashing waves of fire ; 
 
 To feel one drop of heaven-sent dew, I now would 
 fain 
 Lose all ; yet all is lost, save God's eternal ire. 
 
 The molten planets swam through seas of fire, 
 Like midnight boreas seemed the circling air, 
 
 In greenish flame, I saw my soul expire 
 
 And mingle with the souls of others, in despair. 
 
 Full many a curse and tardy prayer the pit-fires 
 hold 
 
 And many crisping tongues for mercy cry, 
 But mercy, in hell, is as a story told, 
 
 And only comes to seekers ere they die. 
 
 18 
 
Full many a stench of burning flesh the wild air 
 bore, 
 And many a dazed form the mad lake beat ; 
 Ay, fainting spirits surged upon the phantom 
 shore, 
 Yet found no surcease from the chastening heat. 
 
 Canto VIII. The Color Vision 
 
 Soon reached there forth a bloody hand, 
 
 And snatched me from the fire, 
 It placed me on the desert land, 
 
 Then cast me in the mire. 
 
 My soul grew weak, I nothing saw 
 
 But wreathes of wavering colors bright ; 
 
 They piqued me with a nameless awe, 
 Then awed me with a piqued delight. 
 
 Forth from the mire this bloody hand 
 
 Did cast me on the wold, 
 And now I lay on solid land, 
 
 I swooned and turned me deathly cold. 
 
 19 
 
Canto IX. The Conjunction of Woruds 
 
 Then elves and gnomes and kindred ilk 
 
 And Christs from every sphere, 
 Brought nigh the scenes of other worlds, 
 
 Till I knew not yon from here. 
 
 Confusion reigned till all about 
 Fierce tumult ruled the air, 
 
 Yea, spirits struggled unto death 
 But yielded to despair. 
 
 A Priestess of a mystic line 
 
 Proclaimed my Christ as dead ; 
 We bandied words — "Peace, peace," she cried 
 
 "Thou too, Oh man, art dead. " 
 
 Canto X. The Evil Spirit 
 
 A spirit that had found release 
 
 In a place of mad carouse, 
 Went forth to tempt man in his bed 
 
 As he slept beside his spouse. 
 
 20 
 
He woke, proud reason with her robes of state 
 
 Did abdicate her throne, 
 And instinct burning in her lust 
 
 Did grovel in the sense-mad dust. 
 
 Ah such a strife I never knew 
 In earth or sea or sky ! 
 
 The passion spent it left behind, 
 Regrets that could not die. 
 
 Regrets took shape and wandered far 
 To the outer rim of the farthest star, 
 
 Then down the vista of bygone years 
 
 They poured a libation of drivling tears. 
 
 Within each tear a sprite was bound 
 And like a blood- cry from the ground 
 
 I heard the wail, ' ' Oh alter fires, 
 These are the tears of Godless sires [" 
 
 Canto XI. The Respite 
 
 Oh blood-cry, when thy voice belies 
 
 The very language of the skies, 
 When lips are mute, and tongue doth cleave 
 
 Grant penitence a short reprieve. 
 
 21 
 
To answer back and curse the night 
 
 When travail sore, and racked with pain ; 
 
 A mortal paid for passion's gain, 
 
 And brought a love-child to the light. 
 
 To fault the element that makes 
 A pitfall for unwary feet, 
 
 And bids men hover on the brink 
 Of mvstic tides of vain conceits. 
 
 Conceits which veil the inner light 
 By art and craft of shrewd disguise, 
 
 By ritual chanted from the sod 
 A blasphemy indeed to God. 
 
 To God who made each glowing sphere, 
 Ordained their flight through endless years, 
 
 Ordained a Hell, ordained a Heaven 
 
 Canst change the law his power hath given ? 
 
 Can worship yield one jot of praise, 
 
 From him who knows the darkling ways 
 
 Of trackless void, and boundless deep? 
 Presuming soul, fall down and weep. 
 
 22 
 
Weep till each atom of thy mold 
 Shall feel the pulses of thy woe ; 
 
 Repellent then each atom fly 
 To new born realms of mystery. 
 
 Combine each atom to create 
 
 A being that shall conquer fate ; 
 Experience bring from every life 
 
 To aid him in the upward strife. 
 
 Canto XII. Re-Creation 
 
 Like sentient mist, there seemed to rise 
 
 The witch-fires dancing towards the skies, 
 
 Ay, dissolution held full sway 
 Creation's yea did seem as nay. 
 
 Like darkness clamoring with the light 
 
 Or infant crying in the night 
 Burdened with dreams of other lives 
 
 Bach atom toward the source of being strives. 
 
 Strives with the thought which says that, "I 
 
 Create a soul and let it die, 
 Die of a sincursed tainted blood, 
 
 Die of a sincursed motherhood." 
 
 23 
 
Strives with the thought that • 'beyond the grave, 
 There is no power in Christ to save." 
 
 Truth circumscribed, oh Power Divine! 
 Thy face, Oh Lazarus, on Dives shine. 
 
 Canto XIII. The Deathless Worm 
 
 The deathless worm and unquenched fires 
 Held conclave with the fond desires 
 
 Which cling to men, and their last sands 
 When death has all but crossed their hands. 
 
 Unstable as a weather vane 
 That veers with every breeze 
 
 Is he who follows his desires 
 Though crawling on his knees. 
 
 The prayer that yields atomic zest, 
 
 And bids the soul to rise 
 In concord with the very best 
 
 Is wedded to the skies. 
 
 Sweet concord, in that thought there lies 
 
 The key to all the mysteries, 
 Which veiled within the temple dwell 
 
 A symbol of Heaven, and a servant of Hell. 
 
 24 
 
A symbol of Heaven in rhythm and motion, 
 A servant of God in acts of devotion, 
 
 While waiting the call of the undermost soul 
 To stray from the path, and come short of the 
 goal. 
 
 Canto XIV. The: Chimks 
 
 Sad, far-off strains of music fell 
 
 Like echoes from some distant bell, 
 
 No tongue can tell how sad the chimes, 
 
 They were filled with the pathos of a thousand 
 climes. 
 
 Each note bore a message of fond hopes blighted, 
 
 Of broken faith or honor plighted ; 
 Of lovers, who when discretion was lost, 
 
 Flung virtue away without counting the cost. 
 
 Canto XV. The Incantation 
 
 Like a scoffer who stands at the vestry gate 
 
 To jest with every novitiate ; 
 As forward they press to the altar of God 
 
 To kiss the cross, and bow 'neath the rod. 
 
 25 
 
So I felt when a sense so psychic and strange 
 Came over me — and I tried to arrange 
 
 Vagaries that seemed but the plagues of the night, 
 Or sorceries far from the just and the right. 
 
 The ghost of a woman, who, for a witch had been 
 
 burned, 
 With movements so subtle, bade me follow, then 
 
 turned, 
 To an urn that exhaled all the vapors of Hell, 
 And mumbled a curse, and conjured a spell. 
 
 Canto XVI. The Continent 
 
 The shade of a continent aflame with desire 
 
 He'd gathered in lives where they fondly aspire 
 
 To the dizzying heights where the sensuous yield, 
 Admitted his failure and retired from the field. 
 
 As he fell, I heard, as a far away call, 
 
 A prayer for the rocks, and the mountains to 
 fall 
 And hide, from the face of Infinite light 
 
 Or drown in the depths of infamous night. 
 
 26 
 
The rocks and the mountains grew vibrant, and 
 then 
 
 Phantasms and shapes came again and again 
 To the brink of perdition, to gloat o'er the fall 
 
 Of a soul, who aspired to encompass the ALL. 
 
 Canto XVII. The Nun 
 
 Hard by there stood a ghostly nun 
 
 A telling off her beads, 
 Another who seemed a widowed one 
 
 Bedecked in mourning weeds. 
 
 How sad, how sad the accents fell 
 From the lips of the pensive nun, 
 
 As the beads of the rosary silently fell, 
 And she told them one by one. 
 
 Was it a prayer for a prodigal priest 
 
 I heard her tearfully say, 
 Or was it a sigh for an earthly feast 
 
 She had known in her temple of clay? 
 
 Ah no ! it was not a prayer for a priest 
 Nor a sigh for the temple of clay, 
 
 But a prayer of regret for the marriage feast 
 And a penance for natal day. 
 
 27 
 
Canto XVIII. The Planetary Processional 
 
 There rode upon the desert wind 
 
 The red moon unattended, 
 The planets shook, then close behind 
 
 Their solemn way they wended. 
 
 Closer and closer about my head, 
 
 The systems seemed to draw, 
 And the faces of those who were long since dead 
 
 This night, in hell I saw. 
 
 Fantastic terrors then I felt 
 Beyond all mortal ken, 
 
 I cursed, and as I cursed I felt 
 A demon rise within. 
 
 Ah, may I never live to hear 
 
 Such words as then I said, 
 The shuddering night-wind hushed with fear, 
 
 And silently mantled the awakening dead. 
 
 I blessed to curse, then cursed to bless, 
 
 And in my own blood lay, 
 But the faces that caused me such distress 
 
 Ne'er yet had passed away. 
 
 28 
 
They begin to recede, I lose them quite, 
 And I utter a frightful yell; 
 
 Each face wears a halo of ghastly light, 
 And I mutter a prayer to hell. 
 
 To hell, if yet perchance there be 
 
 Mercy within her scope 
 Or God or Devil or Trinity 
 
 Or wilderness-cry, or message of hope. 
 
 Canto XIX. The Prayer 
 
 The pinions of my weary soul, 
 I fold within thy stygian deep; 
 
 Thine altars are the devil's goal, 
 Where death- fires lurid vigil keep, 
 
 Genius of evil, down, down I fall, 
 Crying aloud my deep dismay; 
 
 Up from the depths came a whispered call, 
 And drew my very heart away. 
 
 29 
 
Evolve thou depths, I cried, and then 
 
 I knew such awful things, 
 There were creatures I never before had seen, 
 
 And devils with tails and devils with wings. 
 
 My words burned amber, and blue, and green, 
 And fluttered away like things possessed ; 
 
 They returned like shadows from the vast unseen, 
 And twittering hovered within my breast. 
 
 Now ringed by skies with curses bent, 
 Vain pinnacles that point on high, 
 
 The falling pedestal, the temple rent ; 
 To age-old emptiness I yield and cry: 
 
 Rites, penances, judgments, prayers, 
 
 Sorceries, witcheries, conjurements, spells, 
 
 vSystems and satellites, give audience fair 
 
 That my words may penetrate all of the hells. 
 
 Angels, archangels, potentates, powers, 
 Druid, archdruid, gnostic and sage, 
 
 On the dial of time ye number the hours, 
 Abide now thy precepts in every age, 
 
 30 
 
Jesus, Mohammed, Buddha, Brahm, 
 
 Woden, Isis, God over all, 
 Bible, Koran, Veda, Psalm, 
 
 Brazen serpent, beast of the stall ; 
 
 Science, philosophy, religion, cant, 
 
 Life, death, the damned, and the blest, 
 
 The ALL, and the naught, the funeral chant 
 Bring comfort and joy as a last bequest. 
 
 Death's victory, grave's sting, cloven hoof, angel 
 wing, 
 Diapason of harp divine, saint, sinner, woman, 
 wine, 
 Pause in heaven oh spheres, and sing the glories 
 of the lowly king, 
 Of the manger birth, and the kneeling kine. 
 
 Knravished with transporting sense 
 
 My thoughts were drawn away, 
 I dropped from feelings so intense, 
 
 In rapport with my primal clay. 
 
 Oh chilly finger-tips of death, 
 
 Why do you thus incline 
 To freeze the pulse and stop the breath 
 
 And abrogate the power Divine? 
 
 31 
 
Canto XX. Second Sight. 
 
 Like second sight there came again 
 
 The vision of the wold, 
 Where first my troubled dream began 
 
 And sadly did unfold. 
 
 The death-dew on the marble brow, 
 The lingering light in dying eyes, 
 
 And the winding sheet about me draw 
 But I view them all with mild surprise. 
 
 Now devils smirked and smirked again, 
 And sleepy night-hags yawned, 
 
 Then foul birds sated on my brain, 
 And glowering death's head dawned. 
 
 All night befawned by gumming crone, 
 
 Bemocked by hideous scream, 
 When morning shone, 
 
 A cowled priest beshrove me of my dream. 
 
 Of dreams, this dream doth lead the van, 
 
 As o'er the world I go, 
 Nor yet shall I forget that haggard man, 
 
 Browbeaten by the snow. 
 
 32 
 
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