The Water Witch

See! the milk-white doe is wounded.      He will follow as it bounds     Through the woods. His horn has sounded.      Echoing, for his men and hounds.     But no answering bugle blew.     He has lost his retinue     For the shapely deer that bounded     Past him when his bow he drew.     Not one hound or huntsman follows.      Through the underbrush and moss     Goes the slot; and in the hollows      Of the hills, that he must cross,     He has lost it. He must fare     Over rocks where she-wolves lair;     Wood-pools where the wild-boar wallows;     So he leaves his good steed there.     Through his mind then flashed an olden      Legend told him by the monks: -     Of a girl, whose hair is golden,      Haunting fountains and the trunks     Of the woodland; who, they say,     Is a white doe all the day;     But when woods are night-enfolden     Turns into an evil fay.     Then the story oft his teacher      Told him; of a mountain lake     Demons dwell in; vague of feature,      Human-like, but each a snake,     She is queen of. - Did he hear     Laughter at his startled ear?     Or a bird? And now, what creature     Is it, or the wind, stirs near?     Fever of the hunt. This water,      Murmuring here, will cool his head.     Through the forest, fierce as slaughter,      Slants the sunset; ruby red     Are the drops that slip between     His cupped hands, while on the green, -     Like the couch of some wild daughter     Of the forest, - he doth lean.     But the runnel, bubbling, dripping,      Seems to bid him to be gone;     As with crystal words, and tripping      Steps of sparkle luring on.     Now a spirit in the rocks     Calls him; now a face that mocks,     From behind some bowlder slipping,     Laughs at him with lilied locks.     So he follows through the flowers,      Blue and gold, that blossom there;     Thridding twilight-haunted bowers      Where each ripple seems the bare     Beauty of white limbs that gleam     Rosy through the running stream;     Or bright-shaken hair, that showers     Starlight in the sunset's beam.     Till, far in the forest, sleeping      Like a luminous darkness, lay     A deep water, wherein, leaping,      Fell the Fountain of the Fay,     With a singing, sighing sound,     As of spirit things around,     Musically laughing, weeping     In the air and underground.     Not a ripple o'er it merried:      Like the round moon 'neath a cloud,     In its rocks the lake lay buried:      And strange creatures seemed to crowd     Its dark depths; vague limbs and eyes     To the surface seemed to rise     Spawn-like and, as formless, ferried     Through the water, shadow-wise.     Foliage things with human faces,      Demon-dreadful, pale and wild     As the forms the lightning traces      On the clouds the storm has piled,     Seeming now to draw to land,     Now away - Then up the strand     Comes a woman; and she places     On his arm a spray-white hand.     Ah! an untold world of sorrow      Were her eyes; her hair, a place     Whence the moon its gold might borrow;      And a dream of ice her face:     'Round her hair and throat in rims     Pearls of foam hung; and through whims     Of her robe, as breaks the morrow,     Shone the rose-light of her limbs.     Who could help but look with gladness      On such beauty? though within,     Deep within the beryl sadness      Of those eyes, the serpent sin     Coil? - When she hath placed her cheek     Chilly upon his, and weak,     With love longing and its madness,     Is his will grown, then she'll speak:     "Dost thou love me?" - "If surrender      Is to love thee, then I love." -     "Hast no fear then?" - "In the splendor      Of thy gaze who knows thereof?     Yet I fear - I fear to lose     Thee, thy love!" - "And thou dost choose     Aye to be my heart's defender?" -     "Take me. I am thine to use."     "Follow then. Ah, love, no lowly      Home I give thee." - With fixed eyes,     To the water's edge she slowly      Drew him.... And he did surmise     'Twas her lips on his, until     O'er his face the foam closed chill,     Whisp'ring, and the lake unholy     Rippled, rippled and was still.