And all such like, were drawn a hundred tales;
And therein was the swinging censer showed,
And therein altar candles feebly glowed
And the bent priest upraised the sacred host.
And when the dusk drew on, in times of frost,
And new fires sparkled on the clean swept hearth
And with pale tongues and laughing sound of mirth
Licked the dry wood and carven iron dogs
Whereon was piled the treasure of the logs,
In the red glow that rose and waned again
The pictured figures writhed as if in pain,
Elijah shook his mantle, and the knight
His spear, and 'mong the elves of foot-fall light
One saw the dance grow faster, till the flame
Once more drew in, and all things were the same.
Nor were there wanting fleshlier joys than these;
For as the night grew closer and the trees
Hissed in the wind, before the ruddy fire
Was spread the napkin, white to a desire,
[ 33 ]
