Dusk warders, dim and drowsy, drew aside What seemed a shadowy unsubstantial curtain, And pointed onwards as with pain or pride, But _which_ appeared uncertain. I entered, and an opiate influence stole, Like semi-palsy, over thought and feeling, And with inebriate haziness my soul Seemed rapt almost to reeling. For over all there hung a glamour queer, A sense of something odd the spirit daunted, And said, like a witch-whisper in the ear, "The place is haunted!" II. Those women, ah, those women! They were white, Blue, green, and grey,--all hues, save those of nature, Bony of frame, and dim and dull of sight, And parlous tall of stature. _Ars longa est_,--aye, very long indeed, And long as Art were all these High-Art ladies, And wan, and weird; one might suppose the breed A cross 'twixt earth and Hades. If poor Persephone to the Dark King Had children borne, after that rape from Enna, Much so might they have looked, when suffering From too much salts and senna. Many their guises, but no various grace Or changeful charm relieved their sombre sameness; Of form contorted, and cadaverous face, And limp lopsided lameness. Venus was there; at least, they called her so: A pallid person with a jaw protrusive, Who palpably had found all passion slow, And all delight delusive. No marvel she looked _passé_, peevish, pale, Unlovely, languid, and with doldrums laden. To cheer her praise of knights might not avail, Nor chaunt of moon-eyed maiden. _Laus Veneris!_ they sang; the music rose More like a requiem than a gladsome pæan. With sullen lip and earth-averted nose Listened the Cytherean. _This_ Aphrodite? Then methought I heard Loud laughter of the Queen of Love, full scornful Of this dull simulacrum, strained, absurd, Green-sick, and mutely mournful. A solid Psyche and a Podgy Pan, A pulpy Cupid crying on a column, A skew-limbed Luna, a Peona wan, A Man and Mischief solemn; A moonlight-coloured maiden--she was hight _Ophelia_, but poor _Hamlet_ would have frightened-- A wondrous creature called the Shulamite, With vesture quaintly tightened; These and such other phantasms seemed to fill Those silk-hung vistas, which, though fair and roomy, Nathless seemed straitened, close, oppressive, still, And gogglesome and gloomy. For over all there hung a glamour queer, A sense of something odd the spirit daunted; And said, like a witch-whisper in the ear. "The place is haunted!" III.