Fondly fancied that the sea Must be Heaven. In they plunged All in reckless confidence, And in watery graves were gulfed. Now the bears are slain by man, And each year their number grows Smaller, smaller, till at last None shall roam within the hills. "And," the old man cackled, "thus On this Earth must one yield room To the other--after man We shall have a reign of dwarfs. "Tiny and most clever wights Toiling in the bowels of Earth, Busy little folk that gather Riches from Earth's golden veins. "I have seen their rounded heads Peering out of rabbit-holes In the moonlight--and I shook As I thought of coming days. "Yes, I dread the golden power Of these mites. Our sons, I fear, Will like stupid giants plunge Straight into some watery heaven." [Illustration] CANTO XIII In the cauldron of the cliffs Lies the deep and inky lake. And from heaven the solemn stars Peer upon us. Night and stillness. Night and stillness. Beat of oars. Like a rippling mystery Swims our boat. The nieces twain Serve in place of ferrymen. Swift and blithe they row. Their arms Sometimes shine from out the night, And on their white skins the stars Gleam and on large eyes of blue. At my side Lascaro sits Pale and mute as is his wont, And I shudder at the thought: Is Lascaro really dead? Or perchance 'tis I am dead? I, perchance, am drifting down With these spectral passengers To the icy realm of shades? Can this lake be Styx's dark, Sullen flood? Hath Proserpine, In the absence of her Charon Sent her maids to fetch me down? Nay, not yet my days are done! Unextinguished in my soul Still the living flame of life, Leaps and blazes, glows and sings. And these girls who swing their oars Merrily, and splash me too, Laugh and grin with mischief rare As the drops upon me flash. Ah, these wenches fresh and strong, Surely they could never be Ghostly hell-cats, nor the maids Of the dark queen Proserpine. So that I might be assured Of the girls' reality, And unto myself might prove My own honest flesh and blood,-- On their rosy dimples I Swiftly pressed my eager lips, And to this conclusion came: Lo, I kiss; therefore I live! When we reached the shore, again Did I kiss these bonny maids,-- Kisses were the only coin Which in payment they would take. [Illustration] [Illustration] CANTO XIV Joyous in the golden air Lift the purple mountain heights Where a daring hamlet clings Like a nest against the steep. Wearily I climbed and climbed. When at last I stood aloft, Then I found the old birds flown And the fledglings left behind.