Soon bold Bearslayer had regained his will,
And entered too the cavern through a slit.
Within the pit a thick deep darkness reigned,
And round his head bats fluttered in the gloom;
Until at length a glimpse of light he gained,
And, going further, saw a lofty room.
All kinds of things inside were found in store,
Too many far the name for each to learn:
With skulls and bones, and teeth and pelt and claw,
With mounted heads and antlers all in turn.
Round ladles, cauldrons, wooden bowls and pots,
And dippers, wicker baskets, mortars, urns,
Great hammers, pitchforks, rakes, in heaping lots,
Cartwheels, old whetstones, broomsticks scorched
with burns,
Black books and parchments that all good defiled.
A corner dim held plants and dried-up grass;
On shelves stood boxes next to baskets piled,
With herbs and potions stored in jars of glass.
Upon the hearth a sullen fire dull burned,
And in its light the walls unpleasant glowed;
Hung from a crooked hook a cauldron churned.
The fire's pale gleams foul toads and black cats showed,
While in the corners snakes writhed round the room,
And through the smoke flew bats and jet-black owls.
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