The young poet, blushing slightly, replied, "I thought of bringing before the company this evening--or, rather, last evening, I ought to say--a curious little incident out of my own experience, which occurred to me when travelling in Switzerland a few years ago. I have put it into verse in the form of a ballad. It is not long, and if it will not weary the company, I shall be most happy to sing it." "A song, a song!" cried many voices at once. "Bravo, Parnassus! Hear, hear!" "The title of the ballad I am about to sing to you, gentlemen, I propose calling 'The Glacier King.'" "Good," said the chairman. "Silence, gentlemen, if you please. A song from Mr. Parnassus." A dead silence ensued, and the poet, after clearing his throat once or twice, began in a clear, rich voice the following ballad:-- THE GLACIER KING. In youth, when I mid mountains roamed, full well I can recall That fearful night. The pale moonlight shone on the glaciers tall. I wandered from my chalet's hearth (the world was locked in sleep), But something on my bosom made my soul a vigil keep. I wandered on, I recked not where, for I was sad of mood, Until upon the basement of a glacier grim I stood. The moon peeped out behind the clouds, the scene was strange and weird-- Like sheeted ghosts those icy rocks above me now appeared. I cared not if I lived or died; my soul was sunk in gloom. I'd little left to live for then; I almost sought my doom. "We die but once," I inly said. "Death's certain, soon or late, And I would just as lief it came, as still protract my fate." I crunched the snow beneath my feet, and little recked of fear; I trod the giant pinnacles (the night grew dark and drear), Yet onward recklessly I strode, nor cared which way I went, Until across this sea of ice appeared a mighty rent. A horrid chasm, with below the torrent's deafening sound, But with the madness of despair I cleared it with a bound. A little onward still I stood (the scene was weird and grand), A wondrous cavern wrought in ice by Nature's playful hand. Its dripping arches overhung the cataract beneath, Its pendant massive icicles appeared like dragon's teeth; And lost in contemplation of this fearful yawning cave, I deemed its chilly arches the recesses of the grave. Anon the cave appeared when moonbeams would its depths illume, A fairy hall of diamond, anon, a ghastly tomb. And as I mused in phantasy, forgetting half my woe, I wondered whether elves or ghouls their revels held below. My blood ran chilled within my veins, a tremor shook my frame, As, mingled with the torrent's roar, unearthly voices came. Awhile I listened breathlessly, as louder still they grew; The icy cave's inhabitants for ever nearer drew.