The Snake Charmer

The forest rears on lifted armsIts leafy dome whence verdurous lightShakes through the shady depths and warmsProud trunk and stealthy parasite,There where those cruel coils enclaspThe trees they strangle in their grasp.

An old man creeps from out the woods,Breaking the vine’s entangling spell;He thrids the jungle’s solitudesO’er bamboos rotting where they fell;Slow down the tiger’s path he wendsWhere at the pool the jungle ends.

No moss-greened alley tells the traceOf his lone step, no sound is stirred,Even when his tawny hands displaceThe boughs, that backward sweep unheard:His way as noiseless as the trailOf the swift snake and pilgrim snail.

The old snake-charmer,—once he playedSoft music for the serpent’s ear,But now his cunning hand is stayed;He knows the hour of death is near.And all that live in brake and bough,All know the brand is on his brow.

Yet where his soul is he must go:He crawls along from tree to tree.The old snake-charmer, doth he knowIf snake or beast of prey he be?Bewildered at the pool he liesAnd sees as through a serpent’s eyes.

Weeds wove with white-flowered lily cropsDrink of the pool, and serpents hieTo the thin brink as noonday drops,And in the froth-daubed rushes lie.There rests he now with fastened breath’Neath a kind sun to bask in death.

The pool is bright with glossy dyesAnd cast-up bubbles of decay:A green death-leaven overliesIts mottled scum, where shadows playAs the snake’s hollow coil, fresh shed,Rolls in the wind across its bed.

No more the wily note is heardFrom his full flute—the riving airThat tames the snake, decoys the bird,Worries the she-wolf from her lair.Fain would he bid its parting breathDrown in his ears the voice of death.

Still doth his soul’s vague longing skimThe pool beloved: he hears the hissThat siffles at the sedgy rim,Recalling days of former bliss,And the death-drops, that fall in showers,Seem honied dews from shady flowers.

There is a rustle of the breezeAnd twitter of the singing bird;He snatches at the melodiesAnd his faint lips again are stirred:The olden sounds are in his ears;But still the snake its crest uprears.

His eyes are swimming in the mistThat films the earth like serpent’s breath;And now—as if a serpent hissed—The husky whisperings of DeathFill ear and brain—he looks around—Serpents seem matted o’er the ground.

Soon visions of past joys bewitchHis crafty soul; his hands would setDeath’s snare, while now his fingers twitchAt tasselled reed as ’twere his net.But his thin lips no longer fillThe woods with song; his flute is still.

Those lips still quaver to the flute,But fast the life-tide ebbs away;Those lips now quaver and are mute,But nature throbs in breathless play:Birds are in open song, the snakesAre watching in the silent brakes.

In sudden fear of snares unseenThe birds like crimson sunset swarm,All gold and purple, red and green,And seek each other for the charm.Lizards dart up the feathery treesLike shadows of a rainbow breeze.

The wildered birds again have rushedInto the charm,—it is the hourWhen the shrill forest-note is hushed,And they obey the serpent’s power,—Drawn, to its gaze with troubled whirr,As by the thread of falconer.

As ’twere to feed, on slanting wingsThey drop within the serpent’s glare:Eyes flashing fire in burning ringsWhich spread into the dazzled air;They flutter in the glittering coils;The charmer dreads the serpent’s toils.

While Music swims away in deathMan’s spell is passing to his slaves:The snake feeds on the charmer’s breath,The vulture screams, the parrot raves,The lone hyena laughs and howls,The tiger from the jungle growls.

Then mounts the eagle—flame-flecked foldsBelt its proud plumes; a feather falls:He hears the death-cry, he beholdsThe king-bird in the serpent’s thralls,He looks with terror on the feud,—And the sun shines through dripping blood.

The deadly spell a moment gone—Birds, from a distant Paradise,Strike the winged signal and have flown,Trailing rich hues through azure skies:The serpent falls; like demon wingsThe far-out branching cedar swings.

The wood swims round; the pool and skiesHave met; the death-drops down that cheekFall faster; for the serpent’s eyesGrow human, and the charmer’s seek.A gaze like man’s directs the dartWhich now is buried at his heart.

The monarch of the world is cold:The charm he bore has passed away:The serpent gathers up its foldTo wind about its human prey.The red mouth darts a dizzy sting,And clenches the eternal ring.