"Dark crawl'd, glided dark, the unspeakable swarms, Clump'd together in masses, misshapen and vast; Here clung and here bristled the fashionless forms; Here the dark-moving bulk of the hammer-fish pass'd; And, with teeth grinning white, and a menacing motion, Went the terrible shark,--the hyena of ocean. "There I hung, and the awe gather'd 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. "Methought, as I gazed through the darkness, that now IT saw--a dread hundred-limb'd 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." On the youth gazed the monarch, and marvell'd: 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." 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 serv'd thee as none would, thyself hast confest. If nothing can slake thy wild thirst of desire, Let thy knights put to shame the exploit of the squire!" 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." And Heaven, as he listen'd, 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! 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! LXI. THE PLAGUE OF LOCUSTS. CARDINAL NEWMAN.--1801- _From_ CALLISTA.