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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 10, Issue 5 (August 1, 1935)

The Spell

The Spell.

There seemed to be a spell upon the
hill,
So still it was, so very strange and
still,
And lit with such a dim, unearthly
green,
Some place beneath the sea it might
have been.
So were the great pines silent, stricken
mute.
I harked in vain to hear the tui's
flute.
That satyr gum-tree not an inch did
dare
To lean and touch the birch-tree's
tangled hair,
Whilst she, the nymph, so deep in
sleep did seem,
That satyrs entered not her soulless
dream.
Some one had put a spell upon the
hill,
I scarce did move, it was so strangely
still.
When, suddenly across the sullen
sky,
The wind came, helter-skelter, riding
by,
He leaned and lashed the pine-trees
with his thong,
Who woke, exultant, to tumultuous
song.
The satyr strained his arms the
nymph to clasp.
She swayed her slim, white body from
his grasp.
Then, with a mighty clamour, came
the rain,
And, faint, a fairy flute was heard
again.
Oh! Such a wild outcry I ne'er did
hear
Upon the hill this many and many a
year!
The rain, the wind, the shouting of
the trees,
And I, in rapture, shouting with all
these,
Because the hill once more was friend
to me;
The spell was broken—and the hill
was free!