(_Fragments of a Modern Parliamentary Version. A very long way after
SCHILLER._)
[Illustration]
"Oh! where is the youth or man so bold
To dive mid yon billowy din?
There's a cup of the purest (Hibernian) gold,
Lo! how the whirlpool has sucked it in!
'Tis a crown of glory, that golden cup,
To the venturous hand that shall bear it up!"
* * * * *
They listened, that goodly Company,
And were mute both squire and knight;
For they liked not the look of that wild (Irish) sea.
And they funked a fight with that maelstrom's might,
And a Voice, for the second time, loudly spake,
"Will no man dive for Ould Oireland's sake?"
But silently still they gaze and stand,
Till a grey-pate grand and old
Steps lightly forth from the shuddering band.
Oh, the glances that greet him are stern and cold!
And a whispered warning around doth pass:
"Now, Grand Old Diver, don't be an ass!"
And lo! as he stands on the uttermost verge,
He sees, in the dark seas rushing,
Obstructive monsters that swell and surge
From the depths of the muttering whirlpool rushing,
And their sound is the sound of hoot and hiss,
And they leap in foam from the black abyss.
Then quick, ere his fellows were half awake,
That old man grand and grey
Plunged headlong! Ah! it made them quake
As he whirled in the whirling stream away;
And they cried, "'Tis pity the land should suffer
This suicide of the Grand Old Duffer!"
* * * * *
Down! down he shot like a lightning flash!
When lo! from the depth of the rocky ground,
Did a thundering torrent to meet him dash.
Like a child's frail top he span around,
Powerless and pale; for how should he fight
With the _double_ stream in its banded might?
The obstructive darkness of the deep
Lay all beneath him, above, about;
And goggle-eyed monsters that made him creep,
Glared at him there in a menacing rout;
For the dismal depths of those waters dark
Seemed alive with the kraken, the sword-fish, the shark.
There, there they clustered in grisly swarm,
Curled up into many a labyrinth knot,
The octopus with its horrible arms,
And the sea-snake fierce, with a mouth like a slot;
And the glassy-eyed dog-fish with threatening teeth,
Hyena fierce of the sea beneath.
And the Grand Old Diver he felt half-choked,
And he mused to himself, "_Must_ I give it up?"
In ledge and rock-cranny he peered and poked,
Till he caught the glint of that golden cup
Hung on a rock, as though it had grown
In the depth which the sea-snake calls her own.
* * * * *
But see! What shines from the dark flood there
As a swan's soft plumage white?
A thin, wan face, scant, wave-washed hair,
And arms that move with a summer's might.
It is he, and lo! in his left hand high
He waveth the goblet exultingly!
He is breathing deep, he is gasping long,
As he clings to a rock--for his strength half fails.
"By Jove, he has got it!" yelled forth the throng,
"He lives! he is safe!" But he pants, he pales!
The Grand Old Diver the goblet grips!
Will he live to lift it wine-brimmed to his lips?
* * * * *
* * * * *
[Illustration: "SUNT LACHRYMAE RERUM--NOS ET MUTAMUR IN ILLIS!"
_Old Adonis (gazing at his bust, which was done in the early
Fifties)._ "AH! IT NEVER DID ME JUSTICE! AND IT GETS LESS AND LESS
LIKE ME EVERY DAY!"]
* * * * *