The Haunted Hour Part 27

"The stones of the field are sharp as steel, And hard and cold, G.o.d wot; And I must bear my body hence Until I find a spot!"

'Twas the soul of Judas Iscariot So grim, and gaunt and grey, Raised the body of Judas Iscariot And carried it away.

And as he bare it from the field Its touch was cold as ice, And the ivory teeth within the jaw Rattled aloud, like dice.

As the soul of Judas Iscariot Carried its load with pain, The Eye of Heaven, like a lantern's eye, Opened and shut again.

Half he walked, 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 p.r.i.c.kly 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 that he came unto Was a Cross upon a hill.

A Cross upon the windy hill, And a Cross on either side, Three skeletons that swung 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 Shivered and glided past.

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.

'Twas the soul of Judas Iscariot Turned from the Brig of Dread, And the dreadful foam of the wild water Had splashed the body red.

For days and nights he wandered on, Upon an open plain, And the days went by like blinding mist, And the nights like rushing rain.

For days and nights he wandered on All through the Wood of Woe; And the nights went by like the moaning wind And the days like drifting snow.

'Twas the soul of Judas Iscariot Came with a weary face-- Alone, alone, and all alone, Alone in a lonely place!

He wandered east and he wandered west, And heard no human sound; For months and years in grief and tears, He wandered round and round.

For months and years, in grief and tears, He walked the silent night, Then the soul of Judas Iscariot Perceived a far-off light.

A far-off light across the waste, As dim as dim might be, That came and went like a lighthouse gleam, On a black night at sea.

'Twas the soul of Judas Iscariot, Crawled to the distant gleam, And the rain came down, and the rain was blown Against him with a scream.

For days and nights he wandered on, Pushed on by hands unseen, And the days went by like black, black rain, And the nights like rushing rain.

'Twas the soul of Judas Iscariot, Strange and sad and tall, Stood all alone at the dead of night, Before a lighted hall.

And all the wold was white with snow, And his foot-marks black and damp, And the ghost of the silver Moon arose, Holding her yellow lamp.

And the icicles were on the eaves, And the walls were deep with white, And the shadows of the guests within Pa.s.sed on the window-light.

And the shadows of the wedding guests Did strangely come and go, And the body of Judas Iscariot Lay stretched along the snow.

The body of Judas Iscariot Lay stretched along the snow, 'Twas the soul of Judas Iscariot Ran swiftly to and fro.

To and fro, and up and down, He ran so swiftly there, As round and round the frozen Pole Glideth the lean white bear.

'Twas the Bridegroom sat at the table-head, And the lights burned bright and clear-- "Oh, who is there?" the Bridegroom said, "Whose weary feet I hear?"

'Twas one looked up from the lighted hall, And answered soft and low, "It is a wolf runs up and down, With a black track in the snow."

The Bridegroom in his robe of white, Sat at the table-head-- "Oh, who is that who moans without?"

The blessed Bridegroom said.

'Twas one looked from the lighted hall, And answered fierce and low, "'Twas the soul of Judas Iscariot Gliding to and fro."

'Twas the soul of Judas Iscariot Did hush itself and stand, And saw the Bridegroom at the door With a light in his hand.

The Bridegroom stood in the open door, And he was clad in white, And far within the Lord's Supper Was spread so long and bright.

The Bridegroom shaded his eyes and looked And his face was bright to see-- "What dost thou here at the Lord's Supper With thy body's sins?" said he.

'Twas the soul of Judas Iscariot Stood black, and sad, and bare-- "I have wandered many nights and days; There is no light elsewhere."

'Twas the wedding guests cried out within, And their eyes were fierce and bright-- "Scourge the soul of Judas Iscariot Away into the night!"

The Bridegroom stood in the open door, And he waved hands still and slow, And the third time that he waved his hands The air was full of snow.

And of every flake of falling snow, Before it touched the ground, There came a dove, and a thousand doves Made sweet sound.

'Twas the body of Judas Iscariot Floated away full fleet, And the wings of the doves that bare it off Were like its winding sheet.

'Twas the Bridegroom stood at the open door, And beckoned, smiling sweet; 'Twas the soul of Judas Iscariot Stole in and fell at his feet.

"The Holy Supper is spread within, And the many candles shine, And I have waited long for thee Before I poured the wine!"

The supper wine is poured at last, And the lights burn bright and fair, Iscariot washes the Bridegroom's feet, And dries them with his hair.

THE EVE OF ST. JOHN: WALTER SCOTT

The Baron of Smaylho'me rose with the day, He spurr'd his courser on, Without stop or stay down the rocky way, That leads to Brotherstone.

He went not with the bold Buccleuch, His banner broad to rear; He went not 'gainst the English yew, To lift the Scottish spear.

Yet his plate-jack was braced, and his helmet was laced, And his vaunt-brace of proof he wore: At his saddle-girth was a good steel sperthe, Full ten pound weight and more.

The Baron return'd in three days' s.p.a.ce, And his looks were sad and sour, And weary was his courser's pace, As he reach'd his rocky tower.

He came not from where Ancram Moor Ran red with English blood; Where the Douglas true and the bold Buccleuch, 'Gainst keen Lord Evers stood.