But we saw by the uncertain Misty light, shot through with gleams Of many a silken curtain Broidered o’er with dreadful dreams, That he locked the door behind us! So we stood with bated breath In a silence deep as death. There were scarlet gleams and crimson In the curious foggy grey, Like the blood-red light that swims on Old canals at fall of day, Where the smoke of some great city loops and droops in gorgeous veils Round the heavy purple barges’ tawny sails. Were those creatures gagged and muffled See--there--by that severed head? Was it but a breeze that ruffled Those dark curtains, splashed with red, Ruffled the dark figures on them, made them moan like things in pain? How we wished that we were safe at home again. * * * * * “Oh, we want to hear of Peterkin; good sir, you say you know; Won’t you tell us, won’t you put us in the way we want to go?” So we pleaded, for he seemed so very full of sighs and tears That we couldn’t doubt his kindness, and we smothered all our fears; But he said, “You must be crazy if you come to me for help; Why should I desire to send you to your horrid little whelp?” And again the foolish echo made a far-away reply, _Oh, don’t come to me for comfort, Pray don’t look to me for comfort, Heavens! you mustn’t be so selfish, said the spider to the fly._ “Still, when the King of Scotland, so to speak, was in a hole, He was aided by my brother: it’s a story to console The convict on the treadmill and the infant with a sum, For it teaches you to try again until your kingdom’s come! The monarch dawdled in that hole for centuries of time Until my own twin-brother rose and showed him how to climb: He showed him how to swing and sway upon a tiny thread Across a mighty precipice, and light upon his head Without a single fracture and without a single pain If he only did it frequently and tried and tried again:” And once again the whisper like a moral wandered by, _Perseverance is a virtue, said the spider to the fly._ Then he moaned, “My heart is hungry; but I fear I cannot eat, (Of course I speak entirely now of spiritual meat!) For I only fed an hour ago, but if we calmly sat While I told you all my troubles in a confidential chat It would give me _such_ an appetite to hear you sympathise, And I should sleep the better--see, the tears are in my eyes! Dead yearnings are such dreadful things, let’s keep ’em all alive,-- Let’s sit and talk awhile, my dears; we’ll dine, I think, at five.” And he brought his chair beside us in his most engaging style, And began to tell his story with a melancholy smile.--