A Mountain Transformation

Out of doors the moon is sinking Slow behind the green fir-tree, And the lamp within our chamber Glimmers faint and fitfully.

But the starry pair of blue eyes Brighter beam amid the shade, Redder glows the purple rosebud, And she speaks, my pretty maid:

"Wee folk, little elfish thievers, Filch our bacon and our bread; Safe at night within the cupboard, Next day all away is sped.

"Wee folk, dainty elfin gluttons, Skim our milk on cream to sup, Then they leave the bowl uncovered, And the rest the cat laps up.

"And the cat's a witch! she slinks off Through the storm at midnight hour, To the witches' mountain yonder, To the haunted castle tower.

"There was once a lordly castle, Gay with gleaming shield and lance; Lord and lady, squire and damsel, Circled in the torchlight dance.

"But there came a false enchantress, Laid on all her wicked spell; Now amid the tumbled ruins Only owls and owlets dwell.

"But my aunt (Heaven rest her!) told me If by night, at the right hour, One should speak the right word, standing On the right spot by the tower,

"Straight again the lordly castle From the ruined heap would spring, Lord and lady, man and maiden, Thread once more the torchlit ring.

"And to him who spoke the right word Keep and castle would belong, Drum and trumpet greet his lordship, Welcomed home with shout and song."

Thus the fairy legends blossom From the rose's opening bud, Blue with their starry magic All my ravished senses flood.

With her flaxen locks the maiden Binds my fingers, holds them fast, Calls them pretty names, and laughing Kisses, and is still at last.

All within the stilly chamber A familiar aspect wears, Sure I oft before had seen them, Press and cupboard, table, chairs.

Like a friend the old clock gossips, In my ear the zitter seems Of its own accord to tinkle, And I sit as one who dreams.

'Tin the right hour, 'tis the right spot! Would you marvel greatly, dear, If I now the right word uttered, At this instant, standing here?

If I speak that word, the midnight With the throes of dayspring quakes; Stream and forest echo louder, And the haunted mountain wakes.

Zitter's twang and elfin carols From the mountain fissures ring, And the forest burgeons, maddened With untimely birth of spring;

Burgeons into magic blossoms Fan-like foliage, flowers bright; Breathes in myriad scents its passion, Quickened by the seasons might.

Roses like red flames upstarting Shoot from out the wild turmoil, Lilies rear their crystal pillars Heavenward from th' enchanted soil.

Large as suns the stars in heaven Downward beam with gaze intense, And the lily's broad cup gathers All their tender influence.

Meanwhile we ourselves, my darling, Feel a rarer, subtler change; Gold and silk around us shimmer, Gleaming torches round us range.

You're a princess, and the shieling Is a lordly castle, see! Lord and lady, squire and damsel, Dance before as merrily.

And 'tis I, 'tis I have won thee; Thou and castle all belong To my lordship; drum and trumpet Hail me, greet me shout and song!