"And horribly mingling in dread array, With white teeth glistening in the dark, Full well I knew, as there I hung, Mid monsters the sole human thing, In that drear desert laid. Deep, deep, where the accents of man never rung, "Shuddering, I thought they were coming more near, With a hundred creeping joints! Then in the maddening frenzy of fear, I loosened my grasp of the coral points. I was seized by the whirlpool's stream once more, At the tale of the youth greatly marvelled the king, For thee too I destine, brave swimmer, this ring, But first thou must venture and tell unto me What thou'st seen in the lowermost depths of the sea." Then his daughter, pale and sorrowing, came, "O father, enough of this terrible game, None other would venture this perilous deed. Or, if thy heart still doth this homage desire, It is time that the knights put to shame the brave squire.” All madly the king grasps the goblet once more, And hurls it far into the sea, "If thou wilt again the lost treasure restore, The first of my knights shalt thou be; Love nerves his soul with heavenly might, And now they hear the distant roar Of the back returning waves; They gaze in vain on the foam-swept shore, As they pour from their rocky caves s; Wave upon wave the dark billows sweep, But none bears the youth again from the deep! From the German of Schiller. LIV THE TREASURES OF THE DEEP. What hid'st thou in thy treasure-caves and cells? Yet We ask not such from thee. the depths have more! more, What wealth untold, Far down, and shining through their stillness, lies! Thou hast the starry gems, the burning gold, Won from ten thousand royal argosies. Sweep o'er thy spoils, thou wild and wrathful main! Yet more, the depths have more! - Thy waves have rolled Sand hath filled up the palaces of old, Sea-weed o'ergrown the halls of revelry.Dash o'er them, Ocean! in thy scornful play, Man yields them to decay! Yet more, the billows and the depths have more ! Thy battle-thunders will not break their rest. Give back the lost and lovely! those for whom The place was kept at board and hearth so long ; The prayer went up thro' midnight's breathless gloom; And the vain yearning woke 'midst festal song. Hold fast thy buried isles, thy towers o'erthrownBut all is not thine own! F. HEMANS. LV THE MARINER'S CHILD. Oh, weep no more, sweet mother! Then the bright blue sky is joyful, To kiss away your tear. But now the wind goes wailing O'er the dark and trackless deep; My father's ship will come, mother, When the grapes are dyed with purple The vines were but in blossom When he bade me watch them grow; And now the large leaves, mother, Conceal their crimson glow. He'll bring us shells and sea-weed I'll watch with thee, sweet mother, L. E. LANDON. LVI THE FORSAKEN MERMAN. Come, dear children, let us away : Now my brothers call from the bay; Champ and chafe and toss in the spray. |