Complete Works of William Hope Hodgson

by Hodgson, William Hope

And we of those grey waters know it well;

  We know that he is come, and not in vain;

  One must go hence, passing in his pain.

  Ayhie! Yoi! But oh! the mood doth change,

  The sea doth lift me high on living mountains;

  As a mother guards her babe

  So the fierce hills round me range,

  And a Voice goes on and on in mighty laughter

  The joyous call of Strength which doth enguard me.

  Ayhie! Yoi! all the splendour of the sea

  Doth guard me from the slaughter.

  Oh! men in weary lands

  Lift up your hearts and hands,

  And weep ye are not me,

  Child of all the sea,

  Out upon the foam among the fountains

  And the glory

  And the magic of this water world

  Where in childhood I was hurled.

  Weep, for I am dying in my glory;

  And the foam swings round and sings,

  And the grey seas chaunt; and the whitened hills are falling;

  And I am dying in my glory, dying

  Dying, dying, dying.

  STORM

  At sea; the night,

  Born on a thunder-cloud,

  Rushed vastly o’er the sky, and hid from sight

  The sun, as in a shroud.

  And loathsome gloom

  Rolled o’er the fretful sea;

  Rolled o’er, a curtain dark that hid the doom

  That waited there for me.

  The tempest’s howl

  I heard far o’er the deeps

  Ring hollowly, a strange unearthly growl,

  Among the watery steeps.

  Anon the wide

  Of that grim over-cast

  Was cleft in twain and rent from side to side

  With lightnings from the vast.

  And muttered roars,

  Of blasts that hoarsely bray,

  Came from the void where the eternal shores

  Uprear their disarray.

  The twanging shrouds

  Sang in that wintry breath.

  The sea tossed up her belly to the clouds,

  And roared, insane, for death.

  The ship drove high

  Upon a spumy swell;

  Drove high, deep surging, ‘neath that lonesome sky;

  And diving - into silence fell.

  SONG OF THE SHIP

  And I toss the blue from left to right,

  And I leap the driving surge,

  And the tall seas follow close behind,

  And ever the moaning of the wind

  Wails softly a solemn dirge

  Through the lofty heights

  Whence the tender lights

  Of evening take their flight.

  And the night comes down in gloomy waves,

  And the growling thunders rise,

  Till their booming echoes fill the night,

  And the lightning throws its vivid light

  Across the murmuring skies;

  Whilst mountainous steeps

  And muttering deeps

  Shape in the blast that raves.

  And the light flies up across the waves,

  And the dark gives place to dawn,

  And I see the whirling clouds of spray

  Break over half of the coming day

  In the luridness of morn,

  That lifts and flies

  Far across the skies

  Lighting a thousand graves.

  THE PLACE OF STORMS

  ’Twas evening out at sea; and in the West

  Rolled a black arch, while o’er the silent deep

  Came from afar the calling of the sea,

  The sad deep call that tells of coming woe,

  As though the Ocean sorrowed in its soul,

  And moaned, all helpless ‘gainst its destined rage

  Grim and tremendous loomed that rugged arch,

  Fashioned of murky mistiness it seemed,

  As though some giant had built himself a bridge

  To span the dying glory of the sun;

  Building it not with stones, but thunder-clouds,

  Piled up in hideous grandeur to the sky.

  And I, upon a little bark afar,

  Watched, as the wandering night leapt to the world

  That fierce and awful splendour in the West

  Blazing in lurid flamings ‘neath the gloom

  Of that stupendous omen of the storm.

  And as the night came down upon the sea,

  From the quiet surface of the glassy wave

  Rose a drear moaning, as from dead men’s throats;

  While in the West sank low the flames of blood,

  Leaving a core of red within the gloom,

  To glow awhile like some vast smouldering ash,

  Dying within the night...

  And now against the dusk of evening grew,

  Running across the arch’s crested height,

  Wild, subtle, livid, serpent-twining flames

  Of trickling green that sprang from dark to dark,

  Across abysmal depths of shadowy vales;

  From out the cavernous solitudes

  That lurked within that monstrous hill of cloud,

  Had leapt a multitude of wordless things,

  Rejoicing in the coming tramp of death.

  And underneath those writhing, gleaming forms,

  I saw the hollow blackness of the arch

  Loom dreadful, like a doorway in the night,

  Opening upon the awesome solitudes

  Of some unknown and hungry waste of woe.

  And still around my little bark the calm

  Held steadfastly, while ne’er a ripple broke

  The silence of the ocean all around.

  Then, all at once, there came a sullen clang

  Of far re-echoing sound, as though a world,

  Full in its flight among the stars, had struck

  Upon some other world with direful crash.

  And wonderingly upon the deck I stood,

  Amazed at that loud thunderous clap of noise;

  And more afraid than e’er I’d been before.

  Thus as I stayed all trembling in my fear,

  I heard again the shaking of night air

  Beneath the impact of that fearsome note:

  And now, alert in cold expectancy,

  Discerned the true direction of the sound

  Amid the bestial answering howls that called

  Their mocking echoes back across the sea.

  It came from that dread arch within the West,

  Rising and falling with a muffled boom,

  Half stifled in creation’s act.

  Then, at that second call, I saw the ship,

  As though obedient to a master voice,

  Move slowly round upon her keel until

  Direct unto the mountain-pile her bows

  Looked straight. Then, by some unseen force impelled,

  She ‘gan to gather way, so that the foam

  Up-piled itself, a murmuring hill of surge

  Beneath her forging prow; while driven wheals,

  Formed half of water, half of new-born spume,

  Spread round her hull and waked the calm

  Of that cold silent sea to sudden life.

  And so on through the grey of night we drove

  Towards the gaping darkness waiting there,

  From whence, at times, the sombre mutter broke

  Of that huge thunder-calling ‘cross the dark.

  Time passed in moments, long as weary hours,

  And all the sea was soundless, save for where

  It broke protesting ‘neath our surging bows.

  And still we slid o’er that expectant sea,

  ‘Cross many a glassy lair of crouching deaths,

  Until, at last, the arch’s highest crest

  Almost o’erhung our masts, and then we stayed,

  There just upon the verge that ope
ned on

  The darkness of a sunless, lightless gloom.

  An hour passed slowly by in silent dread,

  Broken anon by that deep-throated call,

  Which seemed so close, we felt, at times, the breath

  Of some unholy Being just within

  The mountain shades upon our starboard beam.

  And then, a glow of subtle green, there came,

  Stealing beneath the chasmic arch like dawn;

  But such a dawn as one might look to see

  Lighting the morning of some Hell-born day.

  Slowly it grew apace, until in time,

  Detail by detail, all that had been hid

  Showed with a strange distinctness that impressed

  My wakened spirit with a sense of awe:

  For ‘neath that livid light there showed a sea

  Tortured with storms - shaken with mighty winds;

  And piled in frothing hills - carved in dank vales;

  Or whirled in spouting towers of changeful light;

  And other times pierced deep in noisome pits,

  Whose glassy sides, bespecked with foam, revolved

  With hideous churning sound, until it seemed

  Some frightful Thing climbed growling from cold depths.

  And all this while there grew upon mine ear

  A distant shrieking clamour of fierce winds,

  As though spent, gasping gales fought for the breath

  With which to fill their mighty lungs again,

  Ere they across the ocean madly rushed

  To breathe their damp destruction far abroad.

  Awhile, I stood; my soul bemused with fright,

  Until another sound broke loud and clear,

  A vast cyclonic wailing, and a noise

  Of many seas commingling in wild rage.

  Nearer it seemed to come, until I saw

  A huge rotating hill upon my left,

  From which a blazing hyporact sprang far,

  Of phosphorescent foam and flame, until

  The blackness of that midnight dome it reached,

  As though a tower of restless surge were stacked

  Up to the very skies, a gleaming mount

  Of frothy white, through which dark waters gloomed;

  And stalked across the night, a whirling giant,

  Built of wandering deaths, until at last

  It burst asunder in its headlong flight,

  Falling upon the ocean with impact

  More hugely loud upon mine ear than e’er

  Had broke the deepest thunders of this world.

  This gone, there came a hollow gurgling sob,

  And scarce six cables’ length away, I saw,

  Upon our starboard beam, a sudden gape,

  Amid the wearying turmoil of the seas,

  A deep and raging gulf, whose mouth stretched out

  As though it would engorge the very waves

  That tumbled in mad chaos on its lips.

  Quickly it vanished, as it had appeared,

  And o’er the self-same place where it had yawned,

  There came an Iron Whirlwind, ploughing through,

  And hurling far aside, the broken seas,

  With such tempestuous force, it carved their crests

  Into a maze of tattered wisps of spume,

  That when it passed, a path of calm was left,

  Paved with the crumbled fragments of the waves;

  Yet, such a calm it was that one may see,

  When some fierce beast veils anger in its breast;

  For, in awhile, the calm departed hence,

  And in its place, wild seas upreared their heads,

  Grim seas, all mutilated with the blast,

  And shaped like unto pyramids, so that I knew

  I looked upon the Pyramidal Seas.

  Then, from the sea’s far edge, upward there burst

  A forest formed of fire, whose branches struck

  Against the sky’s black dome with muffled sound

  A strange and fearsome lightning, dull in hue,

  And shedding all around a savage glare.

  This quickly died, and in its stead there grew,

  Across the dim horizon’s distant gloom,

  A furious ruddy flare, from whence there rushed,

  With mighty bellowings far across the sea,

  The Fiery Tempest, which is scarcely seen,

  Once in a thousand years, by mariners;

  The fiery storm, in which the broad sky burns

  In which the very waves are flames of blood,

  Upleaping to the night; while blazing clouds

  Wrap the whole world in one red shroud of fire.

  With frightened wonder thus I stared awhile,

  Until the vision faded in the night:

  Then, all at once, a spectral thing beheld,

  As from two mountains surging, upward drove

  Dim minarets and castellated towers,

  And all the ghostly splendour of the House

  Where dead men’s souls await the coming end

  The House of Storms, it was, formed ‘mid the spume,

  A strange nocturnal structure from the sea

  Growing upon my vision, like a cloud

  That forms above the evening sun - from whence

  No man can tell, so subtle is its birth.

  Huge were its walls, and gloomy, formed of nights

  Hurled from the blasted sea’s deep silences.

  Awhile, I stood, all mazed with fear and doubt,

  And looked with scarce believing eyes, until,

  All in a moment’s space, I saw a glow

  Shining within the house, and suddenly

  Forth out from windows and from doors there burst

  A deep and lurid glare that streamed afar

  Across the tumbled chaos of the Place.

  And then there rose the panting sounds of wind,

  As though within the house a giant-great smith

  Tortured some vast volcanic forge with blasts

  Until its fervent fire lit up the night.

  And then there came a clangour loud and fierce,

  The hissing sounds of water met with flame,

  And the deep breathings of some breathless Thing

  Working within the house.

  Awhile, I harked,

  Half mad with curious thoughts to look within

  Those great and gloomy walls; and to this end,

  I climbed among the rigging - chance aloft,

  Until, at last, my staring eyes beheld

  A strange and awful sight. For there, I saw,

  The subterranean fires of earth gush up,

  In radiant flames through one great fiery cone,

  Around which hissed the sea in steamy wreaths.

  And, in that ruddy glare, my vision showed,

  Upstanding in the sea, a monstrous form,

  Which bent near by the fire and seemed to toil,

  Surging a wind-wrought hammer far on high.

  I climbed a little higher; there, I saw,

  The huge and mighty shoulders of grim Storm

  Heaving beneath the whirling of his sledge,

  As ‘mid a thunderous din of beaten brine,

  And far up-spurting reek of shattered seas,

  He forged gigantic ocean-waves, from base

  Of solid steel-blue waters, to dire crests

  Arching their curved fierce fronts with awful skill,

  And then, as finished, tossing each afar,

  To roam o’er ceaseless miles, with hungry maw,

  Until some hapless ship within their bowels,

  They dive far to the deeps to glut their prey.

  And on Storm’s head there perched an Albatross

  That lonely bird of death, whose ghostly shriek,

  At night, ‘mid gales is heard - an eldritch cry

  Above the helmsman’s struggling form, as though

  It would remind him of death’s near approach.
r />   While, in the sea, far down between Storm’s knees,

  I saw a bloated Horror watching there

  A waiting shape, a shark; and deeper still,

  A hideous, loathsome writhing mass, that claimed

  The Ocean’s silent bed - a foul affront

  To Nature’s strange and wondrous handiwork,

  Smirching the very deep with darker hue.

  And other things there were that drew my sight;

  For round about, with curious eyes, there watched,

  A crowding, peering host of sodden souls

  Staring with fearful orbs upon huge Storm;

  And whispering among themselves their grief

  At each gaunt sea complete, and sent abroad.

  And ever through the doors, with noiseful tread,

  Leapt the returning foam-maned steeds; and each

  Bore a wet soul upon its spumy crest,

  Scarcely unfleshed, and still all palpitant

  With the warm life from which it had been wrenched.

  And, as each sea deposed its quivering load;

  From the whole ghostly concourse, waiting, rose

  Sadly a breathless moan of sympathy,

  As in their midst they made a roomy place

  For each poor ‘wildered soul, while fluttering hands

  Guided it thence with damp caressing touch.

  Then, as I stared, Storm turned himself about,

  So that I saw his face, and lo! his eyes

  Were caverns, whence came echoing moans that seemed

  Like unto hollow sounds within a vault,

  As though the wordless dead groaned in their sleep.

  And as he bent beside that mighty forge,

  His cheeks puffed out - two bellied thunder-clouds,

  Forth from his mouth there came a shaking blast,

  With a shrill screaming noise of unpent gales,

  Through which a lower vulturous sound I heard,

  As though a ghoulish legion sang of death.

  And all this time, his gale-born hammer beat

  Upon the crying brine; while down his sides,

  Gushed the foam-sweat in many a reeking stream.

  Then, all at once, from underneath our keel,

  A wave belched upwards from the silent sea,

  Like some huge, spume-gloved hand thrust from black depths,

  And caught the little bark and hurled her out

  Into the raging tumult ‘neath the arch;

  And in a moment, all around, I saw

  A vast and dreadful wall encircling me

  A night-black thunder wall of tufted cloud,

  Shutting from sight the wonders I had viewed;

  As though an amphitheatre of gloom

  Had closed around the ship, whence multitudes

  Of unknown things, and watching spirits glared.

  And in the centre grew a sudden tree,

  Formed all its length of pale and quaking light.