Half he walk'd, and half he seemed Lifted on the cold wind; He did not turn, for chilly hands Were pushing from behind. The first place that he came unto It was the open wold, And underneath were pricky whins, And a wind that blew so cold. The next place that he came unto It was a stagnant pool, And when he threw the body in It floated light as wool. He drew the body on his back, And it was dripping chill, And the next place he came unto Was a Cross upon a hill. A Cross upon the windy hill, And a Cross on either side, Three skeletons that swing thereon, Who had been crucified. And on the middle cross-bar sat A white Dove slumbering; Dim it sat in the dim light, With its head beneath its wing. And underneath the middle Cross A grave yawned wide and vast, But the soul of Judas Iscariot Shiver'd, and glided past. We are not told what this hill was, but every reader knows that Calvary is meant, and the skeletons upon the crosses are those of Christ and the two thieves crucified with him. The ghostly hand had pushed Judas to the place of all places where he would have wished not to go. We need not mind the traditional discrepancy suggested by the three skeletons; as a matter of fact, the bodies of malefactors were not commonly left upon the crosses long enough to become skeletons, and of course the legend is that Christ's body was on the cross only for a short time. But we may suppose that the whole description is of a phantasm, purposely shaped to stir the remorse of Judas. The white dove sleeping upon the middle cross suggests the soul of Christ, and the great grave made below might have been prepared out of mercy for the body of Judas. If the dove had awoke and spoken to him, would it not have said, "You can put your body here, in my grave; nobody will torment you"? But the soul of Judas cannot even think of daring to approach the place of the crucifixion. The fourth place that he came unto, It was the Brig of Dread, And the great torrents rushing down Were deep, and swift, and red. He dared not fling the body in For fear of faces dim, And arms were waved in the wild water To thrust it back to him. There is here a poetical effect borrowed from sources having nothing to do with the Judas tradition. In old Northern folklore there is the legend of a River of Blood, in which all the blood ever shed in this world continues to flow; and there is a reference to this river in the old Scotch ballad of "Thomas the Rhymer." It was mirk, mirk night, and there was nae light, And they waded in red blude up to the knee, For a' the blude that's shed on earth, Rins through the springs o' that countrie. Judas leaves the dreadful bridge and continues his wanderings over the mountain, through woods and through great desolate plains: