“Where is the man who will dive for his King,
In the pool as it rushes with turbulent sweep?
A cup from this surf-beaten jetty I fling,
And he who will seek it below in the deep,
And will bring it again to the light of the day,
As the meed of his valour shall bear it away.
“Now courage, my knights, and my warriors bold,
For, one, two, and three, and away it shall go—”
He toss’d, as he said it, the goblet of gold
Deep, deep in the howling abysses below.—
“Where is the hero who ventures to brave
The whirl of the pool, and the break of the wave?”
The steel-coated lancemen, and nobles around,
Spoke not, but they trembled in silent surprise,
And pale they all stood on the cliff’s giddy bound,
And no one would venture to dive for the prize.
“Three times have I spoke, but no hero will spring
And dive for the goblet, and dive for the King.”
But still they were silent and pale as before,
Till a brave son of Eirin, in venturous pride,
Dash’d forth from the lancemen’s trembling corps
And canted his helm, cast his mantle aside,
While spearman, and noble, and lady, and knight,
Gazed on the bold stripling in breathless affright.
Unmoved by the thoughts of his horrible doom,
He mounted the cliff—and he paus’d on his leap,
For the waves which the pool had imbibed in its womb
Were spouted in thunder again from the deep,—
Yes! as they return’d, their report was as loud
As the peal when it bursts from the storm-riven cloud.
It roared, and it drizzled, it hiss’d and it whirl’d,
And it bubbled like water when mingled with flame,
And columns of foam to the heaven were hurl’d,
And billow on billow tumultuously came;
It seem’d that the womb of the ocean would bear
Sea over sea to the uppermost air.
It thundered again as the wave gathered slow,
And black from the drizzling foam as it fell,
The mouth of the fathomless tunnel below
Was seen like the pass to the regions of hell;
The waters roll round it, and gather and boom,
And then all at once disappear in the gloom.
And now ere the waves had returned from the deep,
The youth wiped the sweat-drops which hung on his brows,
And he plunged—and the cataracts over him sweep,
And a shout from his terrified comrades arose;
And then there succeeded a horrible pause
For the whirlpool had clos’d its mysterious jaws.
And stiller it grew on the watery waste,
In the womb of the ocean it bellow’d alone,
The knights said their Aves in terrified haste,
And crowded each pinnacle, jetty, and stone:
“The high-hearted stripling is whelm’d in the tide,
Ah! wail him,” was echoed from every side.
“If the monarch had buried his crown in the pool
And said: ‘He shall wear it who brings it again,’
I would not have been so insensate a fool
As to dive when all hope of returning were vain;
What heaven conceals in the gulfs of the deep,
Lies buried for ever, and there it must sleep.”
Full many a burden the whirlpool had borne,
And spouted it forth on the drizzling surge,
But nought but a mast that was splinter’d and torn,
Or the hull of a vessel was seen to emerge;
But wider and wider it opens its jaws,
And louder it gurgles, and louder it draws.
It drizzled, it thunder’d, it hiss’d and it whirl’d,
And it bubbled like water when mingled with flame,
And columns of foam to the heaven were hurl’d,
And flood upon flood from the deep tunnel came;
And then with a noise like the storm from the North,
The hellish eruption was vomited forth.
But, ah! what is that on the wave’s foamy brim,
Disgorged with an ocean of wreck and of wood?
’Tis the snow-white arm and the shoulder of him
Who daringly dived for the glittering meed:
’Tis he, ’tis the stripling so hardy and bold,
Who swings in his left hand the goblet of gold.
He draws a long breath as the breaker he leaves,
Then swims through the water with many a strain,
While all his companions exultingly heave
Their voices above the wild din of the main:
“’Tis he, O! ’tis he, from the horrible hole
The brave one has rescued his body and soul.”
He reach’d the tall jetty, and kneeling he laid
The massy gold goblet in triumph and pride
At the foot of the monarch, who instantly made
A sign to his daughter who stood by his side:
She fill’d it with wine, and the youth with a spring
Received it, and quaff’d it, and turn’d to the King.
“Long life to the monarch! how happy are they
Who breathe and exist in the sun’s rosy light,
But he who is doom’d in the ocean to stray,
Views nothing around him but horror and night;
Let no one henceforward be tempted like me
To pry in the secrets contain’d in the sea.
“I felt myself seized, with the quickness of thought
The whirlpool entomb’d me in body and limb,
And billow on billow tumultuously brought
It’s cataracts o’er me; in vain did I swim,
For like a mere pebble with horrible sound
The force of the double stream twisted me round.
“But God in his mercy, for to him alone
In the moment of danger I ever have clung,
Did bear me towards a projection of stone:
I seized it in transport, and round it I hung,
The goblet lay too on a corally ledge,
Which jutted just over the cataract’s edge.
“And then I look’d downward, and horribly deep,
And twinkling sheen in the darkness below,
And though to the hearing it ever might sleep,
Yet still the eye clouded with terror might know,
That serpents and creatures that made my blood cool,
Were swimming and splashing about in the pool.
“Ball’d up to a mass, in a moment uncoil’d,
They rose, and again disappear’d in the dark,
And down in the billows which over them boil’d
I saw a behemoth contend with a shark;
The sounds of their hideous duel awaken
The black-bellied whale, and the slumbering craken.
“Still, still did I linger forlorn, and oppress’d
With a feeling of terror that curdled my blood;
Ah think of a human and sensible breast
Enclosed with the hideous shapes of the flood;
Still, still did I linger, but far from the reach
Of those that I knew would await on the beach.
“Methought that a serpent towards me did creep,
And trailing behind him whole fathoms of length,
He open’d his jaws; and I dropp’d from the steep
Round which I had clung with expiring strength:
’Twas well that I did so, the stream bore me up,
And here is thy servant, and there is the cup.”
He then was retiring, a look from the King
Detain’d him: “My hero, the cup is thine own,
’Tis richly thy meed, but I’ll give thee this ring,
Beset with a diamond and chrysolite stone,
If again thou wilt dive, and discover to me
What’s hid in the deepest abyss of the sea.”
The daughter heard that with compassionate thought,
Quick, quick to the feet of the monarch she flew:
“O father, desist from this horrible sport,
He has done what no other would venture to do,
If the life of a creature thou fain must destroy,
Let a noble take place of this generous boy.”
The monarch has taken the cup in his hand,
And tumbled it down in the bellowing sea:
“And if thou canst bring it again to the strand,
The first, and the best of my knights thou shalt be;
If that will not tempt thee, this maid thou shalt wed,
And share as a husband the joys of her bed.”
Then the pride of old Eirin arose in his look,
And it flash’d from his eye-balls courageously keen,
One glance on the beautiful vision he took,
And he saw her change colour, and sink on the green.
“By the stool of Saint Peter the prize I’ll obtain;”
He shouted, and instantly dived in the main.
The waters sunk down, and a thundering peal
Announced that the time of their sojourn was o’er;
Each eye is cast downward in terrified zeal,
As forth from the tunnel the cataracts pour.
The waters rush up, and the waters subside;
But ah! the bold diver remains in the tide.