Chapter 4

O, very gloomy is the House of Woe, Where tears are falling while the bell is knelling, With all the dark solemnities which show That Death is in the dwelling!

O very, very dreary is the room Where Love, domestic Love, no longer nestles, But, smitten by the common stroke of doom, The Corpse lies on the trestles!

But House of Woe, and hearse, and sable pall, The narrow home of the departed mortal, Ne'er look'd so gloomy as that Ghostly Hall, With its deserted portal!

The centipede along the threshold crept, The cobweb hung across in mazy tangle, And in its winding-sheet the maggot slept, At every nook and angle.

The keyhole lodged the earwig and her brood, The emmets of the steps had old possession, And march'd in search of their diurnal food In undisturb'd procession.

As undisturb'd as the prehensile cell Of moth or maggot, or the spider's tissue, For never foot upon that threshold fell, To enter or to issue.

O'er all there hung the shadow of a fear, A sense of mystery the spirit daunted, And said, as plain as whisper in the ear, The place is Haunted!

Howbeit, the door I push'd--or so I dream'd-- Which slowly, slowly gaped,--the hinges creaking With such a rusty eloquence, it seem'd That Time himself was speaking.

But Time was dumb within that Mansion old, Or left his tale to the heraldic banners, That hung from the corroded walls, and told Of former men and manners:--

Those tatter'd flags, that with the open'd door, Seem'd the old wave of battle to remember, While fallen fragments danced upon the floor, Like dead leaves in December.

The startled bats flew out,--bird after bird,-- The screech-owl overhead began to flutter, And seem'd to mock the cry that she had heard Some dying victim utter!

A shriek that echoed from the joisted roof, And up the stair, and further still and further, Till in some ringing chamber far aloof It ceased its tale of murther!

Meanwhile the rusty armor rattled round, The banner shudder'd, and the ragged streamer; All things the horrid tenor of the sound Acknowledged with a tremor.

The antlers, where the helmet hung, and belt, Stirr'd as the tempest stirs the forest branches, Or as the stag had trembled when he felt The blood-hound at his haunches.

The window jingled in its crumbled frame, And thro' its many gaps of destitution Dolorous moans and hollow sighings came, Like those of dissolution.

The wood-louse dropped, and rolled into a ball, Touch'd by some impulse occult or mechanic; And nameless beetles ran along the wall In universal panic.

The subtle spider, that from overhead Hung like a spy on human guilt and error, Suddenly turn'd, and up its slender thread Ran with a nimble terror.

The very stains and fractures on the wall, Assuming features solemn and terrific, Hinted some Tragedy of that old Hall, Lock'd up in hieroglyphic.

Some tale that might, perchance, have solved the doubt, Wherefore amongst those flags so dull and livid, The banner of the BLOODY HAND shone out So ominously vivid.

Some key to that inscrutable appeal, Which made the very frame of Nature quiver; And ev'ry thrilling nerve and fibre feel So ague-like a shiver.

For over all there hung a cloud of fear, A sense of mystery the spirit daunted, And said, as plain as whisper in the ear, The place is Haunted!

If but a rat had lingered in the house, To lure the thought into a social channel! But not a rat remain'd, or tiny mouse, To squeak behind the panel.

Huge drops roll'd down the walls, as if they wept; And where the cricket used to chirp so shrilly The toad was squatting, and the lizard crept On that damp hearth and chilly.

For years no cheerful blaze had sparkled there, Or glanced on coat of buff or knightly metal; The slug was crawling on the vacant chair,-- The snail upon the settle.

The floor was redolent of mould and must, The fungus in the rotten seams had quicken'd; While on the oaken table coats of dust Perennially had thicken'd.

No mark of leathern jack or metal can, No cup--no horn--no hospitable token,-- All social ties between that board and Man Had long ago been broken.

There was so foul a rumor in the air, The shadow of a Presence so atrocious; No human creature could have feasted there, Even the most ferocious.

For over all there hung a cloud of fear, A sense of mystery the spirit daunted, And said, as plain as whisper in the ear, The place is Haunted!