“Couldstthouhavethoughtthereweresuchmerrytimesina
mad-house？”inquiredthelatter。
“True，true。”saidtheladytoherself；“thereismirthwithin
itswalls，butmisery，miserywithout。”
“Wouldstthouhearmore？”demandedtheoldwoman。
“ThereisoneothervoiceIwouldfainlistentoagain。”replied
theladyfaintly。
“Then，laydownthyheadspeedilyuponmyknees，thatthoumayst
gettheehencebeforethehourbepast。”
Thegoldenskirtsofdaywereyetlingeringuponthehills，but
deepshadesobscuredthehollowandthepool，asifsombrenight
wererisingthencetooverspreadtheworld。Againthatevilwoman
begantoweaveherspell。Longdiditproceedunanswered，tillthe
knollingofabellstoleinamongtheintervalsofherwords，likea
clangthathadtravelledfarovervalleyandrisingground，andwas
justreadytodieintheair。Theladyshookuponhercompanion’s
kneesassheheardthatbodingsound。Strongeritgrewandsadder，and
deepenedintothetoneofadeathbell，knollingdolefullyfromsome
ivy-mantledtower，andbearingtidingsofmortalityandwotothe
cottage，tothehall，andtothesolitarywayfarer，thatallmight
weepforthedoomappointedinturntothem。Thencameameasured
tread，passingslowly，slowlyon，asofmournerswithacoffin，
theirgarmentstrailingontheground，sothattheearcouldmeasure
thelengthoftheirmelancholyarray。Beforethemwentthepriest，
readingtheburialservice，whiletheleavesofhisbookwererustling
inthebreeze。Andthoughnovoicebuthiswasheardtospeakaloud，
stilltherewererevilingsandanathemas，whisperedbutdistinct，from
womenandfrommen，breathedagainstthedaughterwhohadwrungthe
agedheartsofherparents-thewifewhohadbetrayedthetrusting
fondnessofherhusband-themotherwhohadsinnedagainstnatural
affection，andleftherchildtodie。Thesweepingsoundofthe
funeraltrainfadedawaylikeathinvapor，andthewind，thatjust
beforehadseemedtoshakethecoffinpall，moanedsadlyroundthe
vergeoftheHollowbetweenthreeHills。Butwhentheoldwoman
stirredthekneelinglady，sheliftednotherhead。
“Herehasbeenasweethour’ssport！”saidthewitheredcrone，
chucklingtoherself。
byNathanielHawthorne
BRIGHTWERETHEDAYSatMerryMount，whentheMaypolewasthe
bannerstaffofthatgaycolony！Theywhorearedit，shouldtheir
bannerbetriumphant，weretopoursunshineoverNewEngland’s
ruggedhills，andscatterflowerseedsthroughoutthesoil。Jollity
andgloomwerecontendingforanempire。Midsummerevehadcome，
bringingdeepverduretotheforest，androsesinherlap，ofamore
vividhuethanthetenderbudsofSpring。ButMay，orhermirthful
spirit，dweltalltheyearroundatMerryMount，sportingwiththe
Summermonths，andrevellingwithAutumn，andbaskingintheglowof
Winter’sfireside。Throughaworldoftoilandcaresheflittedwitha
dreamlikesmile，andcamehithertofindahomeamongthelightsome
heartsofMerryMount。
NeverhadtheMaypolebeensogaylydeckedasatsunseton
midsummereve。Thisveneratedemblemwasapine-tree，whichhad
preservedtheslendergraceofyouth，whileitequalledtheloftiest
heightoftheoldwoodmonarchs。Fromitstopstreamedasilken
banner，coloredliketherainbow。Downnearlytothegroundthepole
wasdressedwithbirchenboughs，andothersoftheliveliestgreen，
andsomewithsilveryleaves，fastenedbyribbonsthatflutteredin
fantasticknotsoftwentydifferentcolors，butnosadones。Garden
flowers，andblossomsofthewilderness，laughedgladlyforthamidthe
verdure，sofreshanddewythattheymusthavegrownbymagicon
thathappypine-tree。Wherethisgreenandflowerysplendor
terminated，theshaftoftheMaypolewasstainedwiththeseven
brillianthuesofthebanneratitstop。Onthelowestgreenbough
hunganabundantwreathofroses，somethathadbeengatheredinthe
sunniestspotsoftheforest，andothers，ofstillricherblush，which
thecolonistshadrearedfromEnglishseed。O，peopleoftheGolden
Age，thechiefofyourhusbandrywastoraiseflowers！
Butwhatwasthewildthrongthatstoodhandinhandaboutthe
Maypole？Itcouldnotbethatthefaunsandnymphs，whendrivenfrom
theirclassicgrovesandhomesofancientfable，hadsoughtrefuge，as
allthepersecuteddid，inthefreshwoodsoftheWest。Thesewere
Gothicmonsters，thoughperhapsofGrecianancestry。Onthe
shouldersofacomelyyouthuprosetheheadandbranchingantlersofa
stag；asecond，humaninallotherpoints，hadthegrimvisageofa
wolf；athird，stillwiththetrunkandlimbsofamortalman，
showedthebeardandhornsofavenerablehe-goat。Therewasthe
likenessofabearerect，bruteinallbuthishindlegs，whichwere
adornedwithpinksilkstockings。Andhereagain，almostas
wondrous，stoodarealbearofthedarkforest，lendingeachofhis
forepawstothegraspofahumanhand，andasreadyforthedance
asanyinthatcircle。Hisinferiornaturerosehalfway，tomeet
hiscompanionsastheystooped。Otherfacesworethesimilitudeofman
orwoman，butdistortedorextravagant，withrednosespendulous
beforetheirmouths，whichseemedofawfuldepth，andstretchedfrom
eartoearinaneternalfitoflaughter。Heremightbeseenthe
SalvageMan，wellknowninheraldry，hairyasababoon，andgirdled
withgreenleaves。Byhisside，anoblefigure，butstilla
counterfeit，appearedanIndianhunter，withfeatherycrestandwampum
belt。Manyofthisstrangecompanyworefoolscaps，andhadlittle
bellsappendedtotheirgarments，tinklingwithasilverysound，
responsivetotheinaudiblemusicoftheirgleesomespirits。Some
youthsandmaidenswereofsoberergarb，yetwellmaintainedtheir
placesintheirregularthrongbytheexpressionofwildrevelry
upontheirfeatures。SuchwerethecolonistsofMerryMount，asthey
stoodinthebroadsmileofsunsetroundtheirveneratedMaypole。
Hadawanderer，bewilderedinthemelancholyforest，heardtheir
mirth，andstolenahalf-affrightedglance，hemighthavefanciedthem
thecrewofComus，somealreadytransformedtobrutes，somemidway
betweenmanandbeast，andtheothersriotingintheflowoftipsy
jollitythatforeranthechange。ButabandofPuritans，whowatched
thescene，invisiblethemselves，comparedthemasquestothose
devilsandruinedsoulswithwhomtheirsuperstitionpeopledtheblack
wilderness。
Withintheringofmonstersappearedthetwoairiestformsthathad
evertroddenonanymoresolidfootingthanapurpleandgoldencloud。
Onewasayouthinglisteningapparel，withascarfoftherainbow
patterncrosswiseonhisbreast。Hisrighthandheldagildedstaff，
theensignofhighdignityamongtherevellers，andhisleftgrasped
theslenderfingersofafairmaiden，notlessgaylydecoratedthan
himself。Brightrosesglowedincontrastwiththedarkandglossy
curlsofeach，andwerescatteredroundtheirfeet，orhadsprungup
spontaneouslythere。Behindthislightsomecouple，soclosetothe
Maypolethatitsboughsshadedhisjovialface，stoodthefigureofan
Englishpriest，canonicallydressed，yetdeckedwithflowers，in
heathenfashion，andwearingachapletofthenativevineleaves。By
theriotofhisrollingeye，andthepagandecorationsofhisholy
garb，heseemedthewildestmonsterthere，andtheveryComusofthe
crew。
“VotariesoftheMaypole。”criedtheflower-deckedpriest，
“merrily，alldaylong，havethewoodsechoedtoyourmirth。Butbe
thisyourmerriesthour，myhearts！Lo，herestandtheLordandLady
oftheMay，whomI，aclerkofOxford，andhighpriestofMerryMount，
ampresentlytojoininholymatrimony。Upwithyournimblespirits，
yemorris-dancers，greenmen，andgleemaidens，bearsandwolves，
andhornedgentlemen！Come；achorusnow，richwiththeoldmirthof
MerryEngland，andthewildergleeofthisfreshforest；andthena
dance，toshowtheyouthfulpairwhatlifeismadeof，andhow
airilytheyshouldgothroughit！AllyethatlovetheMaypole，lend
yourvoicestothenuptialsongoftheLordandLadyoftheMay！”
ThiswedlockwasmoreseriousthanmostaffairsofMerryMount，
wherejestanddelusion，trickandfantasy，keptupacontinual
carnival。TheLordandLadyoftheMay，thoughtheirtitlesmustbe
laiddownatsunset，werereallyandtrulytobepartnersforthe
danceoflife，beginningthemeasurethatsamebrighteve。The
wreathofroses，thathungfromthelowestgreenboughoftheMaypole，
hadbeentwinedforthem，andwouldbethrownoverboththeirheads，
insymboloftheirfloweryunion。Whenthepriesthadspoken，
therefore，ariotousuproarburstfromtheroutofmonstrousfigures。
“Beginyouthestave，reverendSir。”criedtheyall；“andneverdid
thewoodsringtosuchamerrypealasweoftheMaypoleshallsend
up！”
Immediatelyapreludeofpipe，cithern，andviol，touchedwith
practisedminstrelsy，begantoplayfromaneighboringthicket，in
suchamirthfulcadencethattheboughsoftheMaypolequiveredtothe
sound。ButtheMayLord，heofthegildedstaff，chancingtolookinto
hisLady’seyes，waswonderstruckatthealmostpensiveglancethat
methisown。
“Edith，sweetLadyoftheMay。”whisperedhereproachfully，“isyon
wreathofrosesagarlandtohangaboveourgraves，thatyoulookso
sad？O，Edith，thisisourgoldentime！Tarnishitnotbyany
pensiveshadowofthemind；foritmaybethatnothingoffuturity
willbebrighterthanthemereremembranceofwhatisnowpassing。”
“Thatwastheverythoughtthatsaddenedme！Howcameitinyour
mindtoo？”saidEdith，inastilllowertonethanhe，foritwas
hightreasontobesadatMerryMount。“ThereforedoIsighamid
thisfestivemusic。Andbesides，dearEdgar，Istruggleaswitha
dream，andfancythattheseshapesofourjovialfriendsare
visionary，andtheirmirthunreal，andthatwearenotrueLordand
LadyoftheMay。Whatisthemysteryinmyheart？”
Justthen，asifaspellhadloosenedthem，downcamealittle
showerofwitheringroseleavesfromtheMaypole。Alas，forthe
younglovers！Nosoonerhadtheirheartsglowedwithrealpassionthan
theyweresensibleofsomethingvagueandunsubstantialintheir
formerpleasures，andfeltadrearypresentimentofinevitablechange。
Fromthemomentthattheytrulyloved，theyhadsubjectedthemselves
toearth’sdoomofcareandsorrow，andtroubledjoy，andhadno
moreahomeatMerryMount。ThatwasEdith’smystery。Nowleavewethe
priesttomarrythem，andthemasquerstosportroundtheMaypole，
tillthelastsunbeambewithdrawnfromitssummit，andtheshadowsof
theforestminglegloomilyinthedance。Meanwhile，wemaydiscover
whothesegaypeoplewere。
Twohundredyearsago，andmore，theoldworldandits
inhabitantsbecamemutuallywearyofeachother。Menvoyagedby
thousandstotheWest：sometobarterglassbeads，andsuchlike
jewels，forthefursoftheIndianhunter；sometoconquervirgin
empires；andonesternbandtopray。Butnoneofthesemotiveshad
muchweightwiththecolonistsofMerryMount。Theirleaderswere
menwhohadsportedsolongwithlife，thatwhenThoughtandWisdom
came，eventheseunwelcomeguestswereledastraybythecrowdof
vanitieswhichtheyshouldhaveputtoflight。ErringThoughtand
pervertedWisdomweremadetoputonmasques，andplaythefool。The
menofwhomwespeak，afterlosingtheheart’sfreshgayety，
