And o'er him the breakers mysteriously rolled,
And the giant mouth closed on the swimmer so bold.
9. All was still on the height, save the murmur that went From the grave of the deep, sounding hollow and fell, Or save when the tremulous sighing lament
Trilled from lip unto lip,-" Gallant youth fare thee well!"
More hollow and more wails the deep on the ear-
More dread and more dread grows suspense in its fear.
10. If thou shouldst in those waters thy diadem fling,
And cry,-"Who may find it, shall win it and wear;'
God wot, though the prize were the crown of a king—
A crown, at such hazard, were valued too dear.
For never shall lips of the living reveal
What the deeps that howl yonder in terror conceal.
11. Oh, many a bark, to that breast grappled fast,
Has gone down to the fearful and fathomless grave;
Again, crashed together the keel and the mast,
To be seen tossed aloft in the glee of the wave!
Like the growth of a storm, ever louder and clearer,
Grows the roar of the gulf rising nearer and nearer.
12. And it bubbles and seethes, and it hisses and roars,
As when fire is with water commixed and contending;
And the spray of its wrath to the welkin up-soars,
And flood upon flood hurries on, never ending,
And as with the swell of the far thunder-boom,
Rushes roaringly forth from the heart of the gloom.
13. And, lo! from the heart of that far-floating gloom,
Like the wings of the cygnet-what gleams on the sea?
Lo! an arm and a neck glancing up from the tomb!
Steering stalwart and shoreward. O joy, it is he!
The left hand is lifted in triumph; behold,
It waves as a trophy the goblet of gold!
14. And he breathed deep, and he breathed long,
And he greeted the heavenly delight of the day.
They gaze on each other-they shout as they throng-
"He lives-lo, the ocean has rendered its prey!
And safe from the whirlpool and free from the grave,
Comes back to the daylight the soul of the brave!"
15. And he comes, with the crowd in their clamour and glee; And the goblet his daring has won from the water,
He lifts to the king as he sinks on his knee
And the king from her maidens has beckoned his daughter.
She pours to the boy the bright wine which they bring,
And thus spoke the Diver-"Long life to the King!
16. "Happy they whom the rose-hues of daylight rejoice,
The air and the sky that to mortals are given!
May the horror below never more find a voice-
Nor men stretch too far the wide mercy of Heaven!
Nevermore, nevermore may he lift from the sight
The veil which is woven with terror and night!
17. "Quick brightening like lightning, the ocean rushed o'er me,
Wild floating, borne down fathom-deep from the day;
Till a torrent rushed out on the torrents that bore me,
And doubled the tempest that whirled me away.
Vain, vain was my struggle-the circle had won me,
Round and round in its dance the mad element spun me.
18. "From the deep, then I called upon God, and He heard me,
In the dread of my need, He vouchsafed to mine eye
A rock jutting out from the grave that interred me;
I sprung there, I clung there, and death passed me by,
And, lo! where the goblet gleamed through the abyss,
By a coral reef saved from the far Fathomless.
19. "Below, at the foot of that precipice drear,
Spread the gloomy, and purple, and pathless Obscure!
A silence of horror that slept on the ear,
That the eye more appalled might the horror endure!
Salamander, snake, dragon-vast reptiles that dwell
In the deep-coiled about the grim jaws of their hell.
20. "Dark crawled, glided dark the unspeakable swarms,
Clumped together in masses, misshapen and vast;
Here clung and here bristled the fashionless forms;
Here the dark moving bulk of the hammer-fish passed;
And, with teeth grinning white, and a menacing motion,
Went the terrible shark-the hyena of ocean.
21. "There I hung, and the awe gathered icily o'er me,
So far from the earth, where man's help there was none!
The one human thing, with the goblins before me—
Alone-in a loneness so ghastly-alone!
Deep under the reach of the sweet living breath,
And begirt with the broods of the desert of death.
22. "Methought, as I gazed through the darkness, that now
I saw a dread hundred-limbed creature-its prey!—
And darted, devouring; I sprang from the bough
Of the coral, and swept on the horrible way;
And the whirl of the mighty wave seized me once more,
It seized me to save me, and dash to the shore."
23. On the youth gazed the monarch, and marvelled, quoth he, "Bold diver, the goblet I promised is thine;
And this ring I will give, a fresh guerdon to thee-
Never jewels more precious shone up from the mine-
If thou'lt bring me fresh tidings, and venture again,
To say what lies hid in the innermost main!"
24. Then out spake the daughter in tender emotion
"Ah! father, my father, what more can there rest? Enough of this sport with the pitiless ocean—
He has served thee as none would, thyself hast confessed. If nothing can slake thy wild thirst of desire,
Let thy knights put to shame the exploit of the squire!"
25. The king seized the goblet, he swung it on high,
And whirling, it fell in the roar of the tide :
"But bring back that goblet again to my eye,
And I'll hold thee the dearest that rides by my side;
And thine arms shall embrace, as thy bride, I decree,
The maiden whose pity now pleadeth for thee."
26. And heaven, as he listened, spoke out from the space, And the hope that makes heroes shot flame from his eyes; He gazed on the blush in that beautiful face—
It pales-at the feet of her father she lies!
How priceless the guerdon! a moment-a breath-
And headlong he plunges to life and to death!
27. They hear the loud surges sweep back in their swell,
Their coming the thunder-sound heralds along!
Fond eyes yet are tracking the spot where he fell,
They come, the wild waters, in tumult and throng
Roaring up to the cliff-roaring back as before,
But no wave ever brings the lost youth to the shore.
Schiller (1759 - 1805).
LODGINGS FOR SINGLE GENTLEMEN.
1. Who has e'er been in London, that overgrown place,
Has seen "Lodgings to Let," stare him full in the face;
Some are good, and let dearly; while some, 'tis well known,
Are so dear, and so bad, they are best let alone.
2. Will Waddle, whose temper was studious and lonely,
Hired lodgings that took single gentlemen only;
But Will was so fat, he appeared like a tun,
Or like two single gentlemen rolled into one.
3. He entered his rooms, and to bed he retreated,
But all the night long he felt fevered and heated;
And though heavy to weigh as a score of fat sheep,
He was not by any means heavy to sleep.
4. Next night 'twas the same; and the next, and the next;
He perspired like an ox; he was nervous and vexed;
Week passed after week, till, by weekly succession,
His weakly condition was past all expression.
5. In six months his acquaintance began much to doubt him; For his skin, "like a lady's loose gown" hung about him. He sent for a doctor, and cried like a ninny:
"I have lost many pounds—make me well-there's a guinea."
6. The doctor looked wise: "A slow fever," he said: Prescribed sudorifics and going to bed.
"Sudorifics in bed," exclaimed Will, are humbugs!
I've enough of them there without paying for drugs!"
7. Will kicked out the doctor; but when ill indeed,
E'en dismissing the doctor don't always succeed;
So, calling his host, he said: "Sir, do you know,
I'm the fat single gentleman six months ago?
8. "Look 'e, landlord, I think," argued Will with a grin,
"That with honest intentions you first took me in;
But from the first night—and to say it I'm bold—
I've been so hang'd hot, that I'm sure I caught cold."
9. Quoth the landlord: "Till now I ne'er had a dispute;
I've let lodgings ten years, I'm a baker to boot;
In airing your sheets, sir, my wife is no sloven;
And your bed is immediately over my oven."
10. "The oven!" says Will. Says the host: "Why this passion?
In that excellent bed died three people of fashion.
Why so crusty, good sir?" "Zounds!" cries Will, in a taking,
"Who wouldn't be crusty with half a year's baking?"
11. Will paid for his rooms; cried the host, with a sneer,
"Well, I see you've been going away half a year.”
"Friend, we can't well agree; yet no quarrel,” Will said;
"But I'd rather not perish while you make your
George Colman (1762 — 1836).
1. Hear what Highland Nora said:
"The Earlie's son I will not wed,
Should all the race of Nature die,
And none be left but he and I.
For all the gold, for all the gear,
And all the lands both far and near,
That ever valour lost or won,
I would not wed the Earlie's son."
2. "A maiden's vows, (old Callum spoke,)
Are lightly made and lightly broke:
The heather on the mountain's height
Begins to bloom in purple light;
The frost-wind soon shall sweep away
That lustre deep from glen and brae;
Yet Nora, ere its bloom be gone,
May blithely wed the Earlie's son."
3. "The swan," she said, "the lake's clear breast
May barter for the eagle's nest;
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