Scene 2. - A garden of Krung's palace, screened from the moon
and lighted with star flakes. An arbor, near which is a
table spread with a repast. A fountain, near which Amphine
sits thrumming a trentoraine.1
1. "Thrumming" is like strumming with his thumb. Trentoraine,
is probably something like a "trembling instrument sounding
like rain" or some such, most likely Riley's guitar with
which he entertained Nellie on many evenings in his early
twenties.
AMPHINE.
O warbling strand of silver, where, oh where
Hast thou unraveled that sweet voice of thine,
And left its silken murmurs quavering
In spasms of delight? O golden wire,
Where hast thou spilled thy precious twinkerings
What thirsty ear ear has drained thy melody
And left me but a wild, delirious drop
To tincture all my soul with vain desire?
O, Trentoraine, how like an empty vase
Thou art - whose clustering blooms of song have
drooped
And faded, one by one, and fallen away
And left to me but dry and tuneless stems,
And crisp and withered tendrils of a voice
Whose thrilling tone, now like a throttled sound
Lies stifled, faint, and gasping all in vain
For utterance. (Enter Dwainie1, unperceived)
O empty husk of song,
If deep within my heart the music thou
Hast stored away might find an opening,
A fount of limpid laughter would leap up
And gurgle from my lips, and all the winds
Would revel round me riotous with joy;
And Dwainie in her beauty would lean o'er
The battlements of night, and like the moon,
The glory of her face would light the world,
For I would sing of love,
1. Riley's beloved - and dead - Nellie appears in spirit.
Riley elsewhere calls her his "truest friend on earth, or now
in heaven" in a letter to Nellie's daughter, Mrs. Emma Cox,
on April 10, 1885. He adds, "God bless us always with the
sweetness of her memory!"
DWAINIE. (Concealed.) And she would hear,
And reaching overhead among the stars
Would scatter them like daisies at thy feet.
AMPHINE.
O voice, where art thou floating on the air?
O angel-soul, where art thou hovering?
DWAINIE.
I hover in the zephyr of thy sighs,
And tremble lest thy love for me shall fail
To buoy me thus forever on the breath
Of such a dream as heaven envies.
AMPHINE
Then
Thou lovest! O my angel, flutter down
And nestle to the warm home of my breast
So empty are my arms, so full my heart
The one must hold thee or the other burst.
DWAINIE.
(Throwing herself in his embrace.)
I think the hand of God has flung me here;
O hold me that he may not pluck me back.
AMPHINE.
So closely will I hold thee that not e'en
The hand of death shall separate us.
DWAINIE.
So,
May sweet death find us, then, that, woven thus
In the corolla of a ripe caress,
We may drop light, like twin plustre-buds1,
On Heaven's star-strewn lawn.
1. Buds which are purely lustrous.
AMPHINE.
So do I pray,
But tell me, tender heart, as thou dost love,
Where hast thou loitered for so long?
For I have ordered merl1 and viands to be brought
For our refreshment here, where all alone
I might sip with thee words as well as wine. Why
hast thou kept me so athirst, for I
Am jealous of the very solitude
In which thou walkest. (They sit at table.)
1. Merl is an alcoholic beverage, probably wine, and named
after a fictional character of Riley poetry. SEE: Riley's
poem of 1879, "To the Wine-God Merlus" (the "God" of
"drink"
who "blowest all my cares.")
DWAINIE
Nay, I will not tell,
Since, if I did a thousand questions more
Would vex our interview with idle tho't
And speculation vain. Let this suffice -
I talked with one who knew me long ago
In dreamy Wunkland,1 talked of mellow nights And
long, long hours of golden olden times
When love lay like a baby in my arms.
And life was like a tinkling toy. We talked
Of all the past, ah, me, and all the friends
That now await my coming and we talked
Of many, many things, so many things
That I forget them all in dreams of when,
With thy warm hand clasped close in this of mine
We walk the floating bridge that spans the gulf
Between this isle of strife and gloom, and doubt,
And my most glorious realm of joy and peace,
Where summer-night reigns ever, and the moon
Hangs ever ripe and lush with radiance
Above a land were roses gloat on wings
And fan their fragrance out so lavishly
The winds dive out of heaven to bathe in it.
1. Earthly life. In Hoosier folklore, Wunkland persons are
those who have been "wunks" on earth, personalities or selves
or souls within shapes and sizes of humanity for homes.
AMPHINE
O empress of my listening soul, talk on,
And tell me all of that rare land of thine,
For even tho' I reigned a peerless king
Within mine own, I think I could fling down
My scepter, signet, crown and royal robes,
And so walk naked down the path of life,
If at the dwindling end my feet might touch
Upon the shores of such a land as thou
Dost paint for me. O tell me more of it,
And tell me if thy sister-woman there
Is like to thee - but nay! for it thou didst
These foolish eyes would not believe - but thou
Canst tell me of thy brothers. Are they great,
And can they grapple with God's arguments,
And cipher out the problems of the stars?
DWAINIE.
Aye, they have leaped all earthly barriers.
`Twas Wunkland's son1 that voyaged round the moon,
And talked with Mars, and buckled Saturn's belt;
`Twas Wunkland's son that bent the rainbow
straight.
And walked it like a street, and so returned
To tell us it was made of hammered shine,
Inlaid with strips of selvedge2 from the sun,
And burnished with the rust of rotten stars.
`Twas Wunkland's son who comprehended first
All grosser things, and took the world apart
And oiled its joints with new philosophies;
For now our goolores3 say, below these isles
A million million miles are other worlds -
Not like to ours, but round, as bubbles are,
And like them, ever reeling on thro' space,
And anchorless thro' all eternity;
Not like to ours, for our isles,4 as they say
Are living things that fly about at night,
And soar above, and cling, throughout the day
Like bats, beneath the rafters of the skies:
and I myself have heard, at dawn of moon,
A liquid music filtered thro' my dreams,
As tho' a thousand trilling voices pent
In some o'erhanging realm, had spilled themselves
In streams of melody that trickled thro'
the chinks and crannies of a crystal pave
Until the wasted juices of harmony,
slow-leaking o'er my senses, drowned my soul
With ecstacy divine. And afferhaiks5
Who scour our coasts on missions for the King,
Declare our island's shape is like the zhibb's6
When lolling in a trance upon the air,
With open wings upslant and motionless.
O such a land it is - so all complete
In all wise habitants, and knowledge, lore,
Arts, sciences, perfected government -
In kingly wisdom, worth and majesty -
So furnished forth in all things lovable,
O Amphine, love of mine, it lacks but thy
Sweet presence to make it a Paradise.
1. Riley seeks the soul within as rendering those in earthly
bodies as "wunks" and the earth as we know it as "wunkland."
Persons in the "beyond" will have activities including
universal explorations, musical enjoyments, ministerial
functions for God, etc.
2. Variant spelling of selvage, an edge of woven material
which prevents ravelling out of the weft.
3. Probably an ellipse of "good lores" or "best books."
4. Riley confirms to us that "The Flying Islands" are lives
that he lives at night. These are himself in fragmented
souls or selves.
5. A haik is worn by an Arab explorer into the deserts. It is
an outer cloth. "Afferre" is Latin meaning "to conduct
inward." Afferhaiks may refer to functionaries in the
universal sphere.
6. An inventive creature of Riley's vivid imagination
possibly striped as a zebra and thus "ribbed" or some such.
(Takes up the Trentoraine.)
And shall I tell thee of the home1 that waits
For thy glad coming, Amphine? Listen, then -
1. After describing the people of the "beyond" and their
activities, Dwainie now tells Riley of the land itself in
song in an imaginative fanciful vision in which Riley and
Nellie can live together. Dwainie gives Amphine to know that
their "heaven" is a garden-party.
SONG
A palace veiled in a gleaming dusk;
Warm breaths of a tropic air,
Drugged with the odorous Marzhoo's1 musk
And the perfumed cynchottaire2; Where the
trembling hands of the lilwing's3 leaves
The winds caress and fawn,
As the dreamy starlight idly weaves
Designs for a damask4 lawn.
Densed in the depths of a dim eclipse
Of palms in a flowery space,
A fountain leaps from the marble lips
Of a girl with a golden vase
Held atip on a curving wrist,
Drinking the drops that glance
Laughingly in the gleaming mist
Of her crystal utterance.
Archways looped o'er blooming walks
That lead thro' gleaming halls;
And balconies where the tune-bird talks
To the tipsy waterfalls.
And easements gauzed with a filmy sheen
Of a lace that sifts the sight,
While a ghost of bloom on the haunted screen
Drips with the dews of light.
Weird, pale shapes of sculptured stone,
And marble nymphs agaze
Ever in fonts of amber sown
With seeds of gold, and sprays
Of emerald mosses ever drowned,
Where glimpses of shell and gem
Peer from the depths as round and round
The nautilus nods at them.
Faces blurred in a mazy dance
And a music wild and sweet,
Spinning the threads of a mad romance
That tangles the waltzer's feet:
Twining arms, and warm swift thrills
That pulse to the melody,
Till the soul of the dancer dips and fills
In the wells of ecstacy.
Eyes that melt in the quivering ore
Of love, and the molten kiss
Bubbling out of the hearts that pour
Their blood in the molds of bliss;
`Tis worn to a languor slumber-deep,
The soul of the dreamer lifts
A silken sail on the gulfs of sleep,
And into the darkness drifts.5
1. Possibly an ellipse of "martyrs of the Hoosiers" or such.
2. "Sin-choked air" or such.
3. Possibly "Littlest winged cupid" kind of thing.
4. A lawn of ornamental variegated pattern as is damask.
5. What kind of place is Riley heading as Dwainie tells him
his destination? Is this overblown, sensation-sated place
described with bawdy house parlor accouterments a delirium-
evoked description of where Riley is really heading due to
his alcoholism, i.e. hell?
(The instrument falls from her hands; and Amphine in a gust
of passionate delight, embraces her.)
AMPHINE
Thou art not all of earth, O angel one!
I do not wonder me those eyes of thine,
Have peeped above the very walls of Heaven!
What hast thou seen there? Hast thou looked on God!
And did he fling as bright a smile as thine
Back to thee as he beckoned thee within?
And tell me, didst thou meet an angel there
Alinger at the gates, nor entering
Till I, her brother, joined her?1
1. Riley's sister, Martha Celestia, born February, 1847,
died as a baby in 1851, two years after Riley was born.
DWAINIE
Why, hast thou
As sister dead? Truth, I have heard of one
Long lost to thee - not dead?
AMPHINE
Of her I speak.
She strayed away from us long, long ago,
But I remember her - wondering eyes
That seemed as tho' they ever looked on things
We could not see, as haply so they did,
For she went from us all so suddenly,
So strangely vanished, that I of times think
She found a pathway leading back to God,
And bent her steps therein and slipped away
Unseen of earthly eyes.
DWAINIE
Nay, do not grieve
Thee thus, O loving heart! Thy sister yet
May come to thee in some sweet way the fates
Are planning, even while thy tear-drops fall;
so calm thee while I speak of thine own self.
And I have listened to a whistling bird
That pipes of waiting danger. Did'st thou note
No strange behavior of thy sire of late?
AMPHINE
Ay, he is silent, and he walks as one
In some deep melancholy, or as one
Asleep.
DWAINIE
And does he never speak with thee,
Nor ask thy counsel?
AMPHINE
Once he stopped me on
The palace stairs, and whispered, "Lo! my son,
thy reign draws near - prepare!" and so passed on
And vanished like a ghost - so pale he was.
DWAINIE
And didst thou never reason on this thing?
Nor ask thyself "What dims my father's eye,
And makes a sullen shadow of his form?"
AMPHINE
Why, there's a household rumor that he dreams
Death lurks forever at his side, and soon
Will signal him away.1 But Jucklet says
Crestillomeem has said the leeches say
There is no cause for serious concern;
As so I am assured it is nothing more
Than childish fancy; so I laugh, ha! ha!
And wonder, as I see him gliding past,
If ever I shall waver as I walk
And stumble o'er my beard, and knit my brow,
And o'er the dull mosaics of the pave
Play checkers with mine eyes.2 Ho, ho! Ah,ha!
1. A possible subtle hint of a Riley suicide plan if he
cannot get himself together enough to write poetry. SEE: the
contemporary poem in Hoosier dialect, "Lines to an Onsettled
Young Man." ("An' what is Death?" - W'y, looky hyur -\ Ef
Life an' Love don't suit you, sir, \Hit's jes' the thing yer
lookin' fer!"). At this point, Riley's poetry contains the
theme of the relief from life that comes with nihilation.
SEE the 1879 poem "Death," with its final line "Soh, bless
me! I am dead!"
2. Riley is in a stupor and the fears he will die while
intoxicated in tremens if he cannot come to. His intoxicated
self, Crestillomeem, however, doesn't deter him from alcohol
consumption. Riley notices himself tumbling about glancing in
distraction as do checkers jumping about on a board, square
by square.
DWAINIE (Aside)
How dare I tell him? Yet, I must - I must?
AMPHINE
Why, art thou, too, grown childish, that thou canst
Find crazy pleasure talking to thyself,
And staring frowningly with eyes whose smiles
I need so much?
DWAINIE
Nay, rather say their tears, poor thoughtless
prince!
AMPHINE
What mean you?
DWAINIE
Why, I mean, one hour agone,
The queen, thy mother -
AMPHINE
Nay, say only "queen!"
DWAINIE
The queen, one hour agone, as so I learn,
Sent message craving audience with the king
At noon to-night, within the Tower of Stars.
Thou knowest one hour later that the throne
Convenes, and that the king has set his seal
Upon a mandate that proclaims the queen
Shall there preside if he do not appear.1
And therefore she, as I have been apprised,
Connives to hold him absent purposely
That she may claim the vacancy - for what
Covert design I know not, but I know
It augurs danger to you both.
1. If Riley can't get over his alcoholism, he will consign
himself to a life as an alcoholic under Crestillomeem's
control.
AMPHINE
I feel
Thou speakest truth, and yet how know you this?
DWAINIE
Ask me not that; my lips are welded close,
And more - since I have dared to speak, and thous
To listen - Jucklet is accessory,
And even now is plotting for thy fall -
But, passion of my soul, think not of me,
For nothing but sheer magic was avail
To work me harm; but look thee to thyself!
For thou art blameless cause of all the hate
That rankles in the bosom of the queen.
So have thine eyes about thee, that no step
May steal behind thee ever - for in this
Unlooked of way thy enemy will come.
This much I know, but for what fell intent
And purpose dire I dare not even guess;
So look thee, night and day, that none may come
Upon thee from behind.
AMPHINE
And thou, O precious heart!
How art thou guarded, and what shield hast thou
Of safety?
DWAINIE
Fear thou not for me at all;
Possessed am I of wondrous sorcery -
The gift of holy magic at my birth,
My enemy must face me as he comes
And I will know him at one utterance,
And then I may disarm him tho' he be
A giant and of thrice a giant's strength,
But hist! What wandering minstrel comes this way?
VOICE (In the distance.)
The drowsy eyes of the stars grow dim;
The wamboo roosts on the rainbow's rim,
And the moon is a ghost of a shine:
The soothing song of the crool1 is done,
But the song of love is a sweeter one,
And the song of love is mine.
Then wake! O wake!
For the sweet song's sake,
Nor let my heart with the morning break!
1. Crooning oriole or some such.
AMPHINE
Some serenader, but what does he in
The gardens here at glare of noon? Let us
Conceal ourselves within the bower and watch.
(They go within.)
VOICE. (Drawing nearer.)
The mist of the morning, chill and gray,
Wraps the night in a shroud of spray,
The sun is a crimson blot:
The moon fades fast, and the stars take wing;
The comet's tail is a fleeting thing,
But the tale of love is not,
Then, wake! O wake! For the sweet song's
sake, Nor let my heart with the morning break.
(Enter Jucklet.)
JUCKLET
Ho! ho! what will my dainty mistress say
When I shall stand knee-deep in the wet grass
Beneath her window, and with upturned eyes
And swaying head, and all-melodious tongue
Out-lolling like the clapper of a bell,
Fling her a song like that? I wonder now
If she will not put up her finger thus,
And say, "Hist! heart of mine! the angels call
For thee!" Ho! ho! Or will her blushing face
Light up her dim boudoir, and from her glass
Flare back to her a flame upsprouting from
The red-hot socket of a soul whose light
She tho't long since had guttered out - Ho! ho!
Or, haply, will she chastely bend above -
A parian phantom with its head atip,
And twinkling fingers dusting down the dews
That glitter on the tarpysma vines
That riot round her casement, gathering
Their blooms to pelt me with, as I below
All winkingly await the fragrant shower?
Ho! ho! how jolly is this thing of love!
But how much richer, rarer, jollier
Than all the loves is this rare love of mine!
Why, my sweet mistress does not even dream
I am her lover; for, to tell the truth,
I have a way of wooing all my own,
And waste no speech in creamy compliment,
And courtesies all gaumed with winy words.
In fact, I do not woo at all. I win!
How is it now the old duct glides off?
SONG1
How is it you woo? and now answer me true, -
How is it you woo and you win?
Why, to answer you true, - the first thing to do
Is simply, my dear, to begin.
But how can I begin to woo or to win
When I don't know a Win from a Woo?
Why, cover your chin with your fan or your fin
And I'll introduce them to you.
But what if it drew from my parents a view
With my own in no manner akin?
No matter, - your view is the best of the two
So I hasten to usher them in.
But stay! Shall I grin at the Woo or the Win?
And what will he do if I do?
Why, the Woo will begin with "How pleasant it's
been"
And the Win with "Delighted with you."
Then supposing he grew very dear to my view?
I'm speaking, you know, of the Win?
Why, then you should do what he wanted you to,
And now is the time to begin.
The time to begin? O then usher him in -
Let him say what he wants me to do!
He is here - he's a twin of yourself, - I am Win,
And you are my darling - my Woo.
1. An amusing song-poem of courtship and marriage in which
Jucklet contemplates his hope of marriage with Dwainie
(Nellie, already married of course.) One who "woos" is an
object of courtship and one who "wins" gets married. When
Jucklet says, "I am win" he is expressing his confidence that
he can become a groom. The phrase is found in an early 1971
Riley courtship poem, the "Unexpected Result," as a "casual"
phrase for the ritual of courtship and marriage. ("...If I
were you/ I'd marry that woman, that's what I'd do,/ As
certain as one and one make two!/ Or ain't you much on the
marry now?/ Well, she's a mighty fat take anyhow!"/ "Well
now, you can bet she ain't so slow,/ Hang it! I won't play
off on her so!/ Where's my overcoat? I'm going to go!/ And
you needn't sit up till I come in,/For I am right on the
`woo' and the `win!'")
That song I call most sensible nonsense;
And if the fair and peerless Dwainie were
But here with that sweet voice of hers, to take
The part of "Woo," I'd be the happiest "Win"
On this side of futurity! Ho! ho!
DWAINIE. (Aside to Amphine.)
What means he?
AMPHINE.
Why he means that throatless head
Of his needs further chucking down between
His ugly shoulders!
(Starts forward, Dwainie detains him.)
DWAINIE.
Nay, thou shalt not stir!
See; now the monster has discovered our
Repast, so let us mark him further.
JUCKLET.
What!
A roasted wheffle and a toe-spiced whum1 -
Tricked with a larvey and gherghling's tail
And, sprit me2! wine enough to swim them in!
Now I should like to put a question to
The guests, but as there are none, I direct
My interrogatory to the host:
Am I behind time?
1. A "wheffle" is probably something like a waffle and a
truffle mix and a "whum" a wheat bun or some such.
2. Give me spirit.
(Showing humbly.) Then I can but trust
My tardy coming will be overlooked
In my most active effort to regain
A gracious tolerance by service now:
Directing the attention to the fact
That I have brought my appetite along,
I can but feel - ahem! that further words
Would be a waste of time.
(Sits at table, pours out wine, and eats voraciously)
There was a time
When I was rather backward in my ways;
But somehow, as I think I have outgrown
The nice, shy age, wherein one makes a meal
Of two estardles and a fork of soup.
Hey, Sanaloo; but my starved stomach stands
With mouth agape, awe-stricken and aghast
Before the rich profusion of this feast;
So will I lubricate it with a glass of merl
And coax it on to more familiar forms
Of fellowship with these delectables.
(Pours out wine and holds up the goblet.)
Mine host - thou of the viewless presence and
Hush-haunted lip - thy most imperial,
Ethereal, and immaterial health!
Live till the sun dries up, and comb thy cares
With star-prongs till the comets fizzle out
And fade away and fall and are no more!
(Drinks and refills the goblet.)
And if thou wilt permit of the remark, -
The gleaming shaft of spirit in this wine
Goes whistling to its mark, and full and fair
Zipps to the target center of my soul.
Why, now, I am the veriest gentleman
That ever buttered woman with a smile,
And let her melt and run, and drip and ooze
All over and around a wanton heart;
And if my mistress bent above me now,
In all my hideous deformity,
I think she would look over, as it were,
The hump upon my back; and so forget
The kinds and knuckles of my crooked legs
In this enchanting smile, that she would leap
Love-dazzled, and fall faint and fluttering
Within these open, all-devouring arms
Of mine! Ho! ho! and yet Crestillomeem
Would have me blight my dainty mistress with
This feather from the Devil's wing, but I
Am far too full of craft to spoil the eyes
That yet shall pour their love like nectar out
Into my own, and I am far too deep
For royal wit to wade my purposes.
DWAINIE.
What can he mean.
AMPHINE.
I will rush forward and
Tear out his tongue, and slap it in his face!
DWAINIE.
Nay, nay! It's what he says!
JUCKLET.
How big a fool -
How all magnificent an idiot -
I would be to blight her, when I have power
To crush the only object that now lies
Between her love and mine! Ho! ho! ho! ho!
I wonder, when she sees the human toad
Squat at her feet, and cock his filmy eyes
Upon her, and croak love, if she wilt not
Call me to tweezer him with two long sticks,
And toss him from her path - O, ho! ho! ho!
Hell bend him o'er some blossom quick, that I
May have one brother in the flesh! (Nods drowsily.)
DWAINIE. (Aside)
Ha! See!
Look, Amphine, he grows drunken; bide a spell
And I will vex him with my sorcery1;
Then will we leave him, for the hour draws on
When all our arts and strategies must needs
Be called in action.
1. The spirit of Nellie and her faith in Riley's poetic
possibility invests Jucklet, Riley's survival personality,
with awareness that his drunkenness may kill him.
Jucklet yawns drowsily, stretches, and gradually sinks at
full length on the sward.1 Amphine and Dwainie come forward.
Amphine is about to place his foot contemptuously upon the
sleeper's breast, but is held back by Dwainie, who motions
him to turn away and hide his face; this time, she unbinds
her hair, and throwing it forward over her face, and bending
till it trails the ground she lifts to the knee her dress,
and so walks backward round the sleeper, crooning to herself
an incoherent song.2 Then pausing, letting fall her dress,
and rising to full stature, waves her hands above the
sleeper's face, and runs to Amphine, who turns about and
looks upon her wonderingly.
1. A grassy surface.
2. A song of reminder of her faith in Riley which will soon
combine with the terror of dementia tremens from his
alcoholism to reform Riley and wake him out of the poem's
delirium.
DWAINIE.
Now shalt thou look on
Such misery as thou hast never dreamed.
(As she speaks a chorus of unearthly voices is heard chanting
to strange discord.)
CHANT
When the fat moon smiles
And the comets kiss,
And the Spirkland elves rejoice,
The whanghoo twunkers1
A tune like this,
And the nightmare nips the royce2:
1. "whanghoo twunkers" is possibly an ellipse for a wailing
spirit evoking a "twang" or "plunk" sound.
2. Possibly an ellipse for "royal arse."
(As these words die away, a comet-freighted with weird
shapes, dips from the sky, and trails near the sleeper's
feet, while from it two nightmares, Creech and Gritchfang,
alight; the comet hisses, switches its tail and disappears,
while the two goblins hover over Jucklet, who stares at them
with starting eyes and horribly comforted features.)
CREECH (To Gritchfang.)
Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!
Flutter your wings like your grandmother does,1
Tuck in your chin, and wheel over and whir
Like a dickerbug fast in the web of the wurr,
Reel out your tongue and untangle your toes,
And rattle your claws o'er the bridge of his nose;
Tickle his ears with your feathers and fuzz,
And keep up a hum like your grandmother does.
(Jucklet moans and clutches at the air convulsively.2)
1. In Middle English mythology, the "nightmare" was
a female monster supposed to settle upon people and animals
in their sleep producing a feeling of suffocation or great
distress from which the sleeper vainly tries to free one's
self. The grandmother of nightmares would be the ultimate
ancestral nightmare herself.
2. An account of Riley's "survival self" in tremens.
AMPHINE (Shuddering)
Most horrible! See how the poor worm writhes!
DWAINIE
But good will come of it, a far voice sings.
GRITCHFANG (To Creech.)
Let me dive down in his nostriline caves,
And keep an eye out as to how he behaves;
Fasten him down while I put him to rack,
And don't let him flops from the flat of his back.
(Shrinks to minute size, disappears in the sleeper's nose,
and calls gleefully from within:)
Lo! I have bored thro' the floor of his brains,
And set them all writhing with torturous pains;
And I shriek out the prayer as I whistle and whizz,
I may be the nightmare that my grandmother is!
(Appears, and assuming former shape, crosses to Creech, and
they dance on the sleeper's stomach in broken time to
chorus.)
CHORUS
Whing! whang! so our ancestors sang,
And they guzzled hot blood and blew up with a bang;
But they ever tenaciously clung to the rule
To only blow up in the hull of a fool -
To fizz and explode like a cast-iron toad
In the cavernous depths where his victuals were
stowed -
When chances were ripest and thickest and best
To burst every button-hole out of his vest.
(They pause, float high above, and fussing together into a
ponderous iron weight, they drop heavily upon the chest of
the sleeper, who moans piteously.)
AMPHINE (Hiding his face.)
Ah! Heavens! take we hence!
(Dwainie leads him off, looking backward as she disappears
and waving her hands.)
CREECH (To Gritchfang.)
Zipp! Zipp! Zipp! Zipp!
Sting his tongue raw and unravel his lip:
Grope, on the right, down his windpipe, and squeeze
His liver as dry as a petrified flea's.
(Gritchfang bows, shrinks and disappears.)
Throttle his heart till he's black in the face,
And bury it down in some desolate place,
Where only remorse in her agony lives
To dread the advice that your grandmother gives.
(The sleeper struggles convulsively, while the voice of
Gritchfang calls from within.)
Ho! I have clambered the rounds of his ribs,
And riddled his lungs into tatters and dribs;
And I turn up the tube of his heart like a hose
And squirt all the blood to the end of his nose;
I stamp on his stomach, and caper and prance,
With my tail tossing round like a boomerang lance,
And thus may success ever crown my intent
To wander the way that my grandmother went.
(Appears, falls hysterically in Creech's outstretched arms.
They dance and chorus.)
CHORUS
Whing! Whang! so our ancestors sung.
And they snorted and pawed, and they hissed and
they stung,
And they took a terrific delight in their work
On the fools that they found in the lands of the
Spirk.
And each little grain of their powders of pain
They scraped up and pestled again and again,
And they mixed it in doses for gluttons and sots
Till they strangled their dreams with abdominal
knots.
(The comet again trails past, upon which the nightmares leap
and disappear. Jucklet staggers to his feet, glares
frenziedly about him, and with a wild, unearthly howl of
agony, rushes off.)