And all within was dark and drear, And all without was calm; Yet Gondoline enter'd, her soul upheld By some deep-working charm. And as she enter'd the cavern wide, The moonbeam gleamed pale, And she saw a snake on the craggy rock, It clung by its slimy tail. Her foot it slipp'd, and she stood aghast, She trod on a bloated toad; Yet, still upheld by the secret charm, She kept upon her road. And now upon her frozen ear Mysterious sounds arose; So, on the mountain's piny top The blustering north wind blows. Then furious peals of laughter loud Were heard with thundering sound, Till they died away in soft decay, Low whispering o'er the ground. Yet still the maiden onward went, The charm yet onward led, Though each big glaring ball of sight Seem'd bursting from her head. But now a pale blue light she saw, It from a distance came; She follow'd, till upon her sight Burst full a flood of flame. She stood appall'd; yet still the charm Upheld her sinking soul; Yet each bent knee the other smote, And each wild eye did roll. And such a sight as she saw there No mortal saw before, And such a sight as she saw there No mortal shall see more. A burning cauldron stood in the midst, The flame was fierce and high, And all the cave so wide and long Was plainly seen thereby. And round about the cauldron stout Twelve withered witches stood; Their waists were bound with living snakes, And their hair was stiff with blood. Their hands were gory too; and red And fiercely flamed their eyes: And they were muttering indistinct Their hellish mysteries. And suddenly they join'd their hands, And utter'd a joyous cry, And round about the cauldron stout They danced right merrily. And now they stopp'd; and each prepared To tell what she had done, Since last the lady of the night Her waning course had run. Behind a rock stood Gondoline, Thick weeds her face did veil, And she lean'd fearful forwarder, To hear the dreadful tale. The first arose: She said she'd seen Rare sport since the blind cat mew'd, She'd been to sea in a leaky sieve, And a jovial storm had brew'd. She'd called around the winged winds, And raised a devilish rout; And she laugh'd so loud, the peals were heard Full fifteen leagues about. She said there was a little bark Upon the roaring wave, And there was a woman there who'd been To see her husband's grave. And she had got a child in her arms, It was her only child, And oft its little infant pranks Her heavy heart beguiled. And there was too in that same bark A father and his son: The lad was sickly, and the sire Was old and woe-begone. And when the tempest waxed strong, And the bark could no more it 'bide, She said it was jovial fun to hear How the poor devils cried. The mother clasp'd her orphan child Unto her breast and wept; And sweetly folded in her arms The careless baby slept.