All the summer fled; And still my heart delayed. One pleasant eve, When first the creaking of the crickets told Of Autumn's opening door, I went with her To ramble in the fields. We touched the hem Of the dark mountain's robe, that falls in folds Of emerald sward around his feet, and there Upon its tufted velvet we sat down. It was my time to speak, but I was dumb; And silence, painful and portentous, hung Upon us both. At length, she turned and said: "Some days have passed since you were latest here. Have you been ill?" "No, I have been at work," I answered,--"at my own delightful work; The first since first we met. The record lies Where I may reach it at a word from you. Command, and I will read it." "I command," She said, responding with a laugh. "Nay, I Entreat. I used your word, but this is mine, And has a better sound from lips of mine. I am your waiting auditor." I read: "Was it the tale of a talking bird? Was it a dream of the night? When have I seen it? Where have I heard Of the haps of a dainty craft, that stirred My spirit with affright? "The shallop stands out from the sheltered bay With a burden of spirits twain,-- A woman who lifts her eyes to pray, A tall youth, trolling a roundelay, And before them night, and the main! "O! Star of The Sea! They will come to harm: Nor master nor sailor is there! The youth clasps the mast with his sinewy arm, And laughs! Does he hold in his bosom a charm That will baffle the sprites of the air? O! woe to the delicate ship! O! woe! For the sun is sunk, and behold! The trooping phantoms that come and go In the sky above and the waves below! Ho! The wind blows wild and cold. "The woman is weeping in weak despair; The youth still clings to the mast, With cheeks aflame, and with eyes that stare At the phantoms hovering everywhere; And the storm-rack rises fast! "The phantoms close on the flying bark; They flutter about her peak; They sweep in swarms from the outer dark; But the youth at the mast stands still and stark, While they flap his stinging cheek. "O! fierce was the shout of the goblins then! How the gibber and laugh went round! The shout and the laugh of a thousand men, Echoed and answered, and echoed again, Would have been a feebler sound. "They shiver the bolts that the lightning flings; They bellow and roar and hiss; They splash the deck with their slimy wings-- Monstrous, horrible, ghastly things-- That climb from the foul abyss. "Straight toward the blackness drove the ship; But the youth still clung to the mast: 'I have read,' quoth he, with a proud, cold lip, 'That the devil gets never a man on the hip Whom he scares not, first or last.'