Читать книгу Tales of the Wonder Club (Vol. 1-3) - M. Y. Halidom - Страница 12

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 châlet'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.

But one deep voice above the rest, in stern commanding tone,

That echoed through the cavern's walls, cried, "Silence, and begone."

Then, terrified, I scarce had time upon my feet to spring,

When, robed in icy majesty, there stood the Glacier King.

A mantle of the drifted snow bedecked his regal frame;

Upon his head a crown of ice, his sceptre of the same,

His hair and beard were icicles, his visage stern and pale,

His eyes like glacier caverns sunk, with look that made one quail.

With terror rooted to the spot, with fright uprose my hair,

While on me, as in wonderment, he fixed an icy stare.

At length he ope'd his lips and spake, in deep sepulchral tone,

"What seekest thou, stranger, in our realm, a night like this alone?"

I know not what I answer made, with voice below my breath,

When nearer, with majestic stride, he came, and thus he saith—

"Thou 'rt welcome to our palace cold; it is full many a day

Since one of thy mortal race hath wandered past this way."

He led me kindly by the hand. But, oh! that hand of ice.

I felt benumbed all over, but he held me like a vice.

Then with his sceptre tapped a door, which opened with a bang.

While through the cavern's icy halls infernal laughter rang.

He led me down by steps of ice, hewn in the solid rock,

And halting at a portal, with his sceptre gave a knock.

The door of ice was opened by a figure grim and grey,

That bowed in deepest reverence, then onward led the way.

We entered then the hall of state, where stood the icy throne;

The courtiers on our entrance bowed as if to gods of stone.

Their hair hung dank about their forms, the wildest ever seen;

Their raiment dripping icicles, their bodies of sea green.

Then out and spake the Glacier King, "Make haste and bring a light;

A mortal from the outer world will sup with us to-night.

Let supper be in readiness at once without delay."

The menials made obeisance, and hastened to obey.

Then soon the hall of banqueting we entered, when, lo! there

A lofty cavern lighted up with phosphorescent glare;

A ghastly light from out a lamp suspended from a height,

That shed upon the icicles its dim funereal light.

The table was a slab of ice, the dishes they were cold,

And when they were uncovered I shuddered to behold,

For some were human corpses that had perished in the snow,

Or in the glacier's crevices had met their fate below.

My heart then sank within me, and I from the table turned.

The guests all looked in wonderment, that I their dishes spurned.

The King then turned upon me. "Though our dishes you decline,

You must not leave this hall to-night before you taste our wine."

He bid a menial near to fill a goblet to the brim,

And as he filled a ghastly smile played o'er his features grim.

The King then raised it to his lips, and first a draught drank he;

The giant goblet carved in ice he handed then to me.

I seized the beaker in my hand, and raised it to my lip;

And cautiously I tasted it, although 'twas but a sip.

I laid the crystal down in haste, as horrified I stood.

The liquor that the goblet held I found was human blood!

The King of Ice he marvelled, and his brow grew grave and stern,

His eye would seem to ask me, "Dost thou thus my favour spurn?"

I trembled, for I noticed when the icy monarch frowned

The reflection of his countenance upon the court around.

Each drew a pointed icicle from out an icy sheath,

They wore as daggers at their sides—for fear I scarce could breathe—

And brandishing them high aloft, while as their hands they clenched,

They vowed that such gross insult should not pass unavenged.

"Ho! sheath your daggers," quoth the king. "Once more our guest we'll try.

Base mortal! if thou still refuse to drain yon goblet dry,

Then dread our fell displeasure, for by our crown we vow,

The King of Glaciers ne'er is mocked by mortals such as thou."

I seized the goblet once again, and in despair did quaff.

Now through the banquet hall resounds a wild unearthly laugh.

The nauseous fluid seemed to burn like fire through my veins

I felt intoxication stealing o'er me for my pains.

I fell down in a stupor, know not how long I lay,

But when my eyes were opened 'twas past the break of day.

The King and court had vanished, but around me I descried

A troop of tourists, who that morn the glaciers would bestride.

They asked me how I came there, how I could be so mad,

Alone to scale the glaciers, upon a night so bad.

I told them shortly all my tale—all I had got to tell—

About the awful Glacier King, down in his icy cell.

They smiled, and said it truly was a very fearful dream; But I vowed all that had happened like truth to me did seem. They asked me to point out to them the grotto that I saw. I gazed around me, and behold the grotto was no more.

Whether it was dream or not, I know not to this day;

'Tis strange the grotto in a night should all have thawed away.

And when I spoke about the cup I quaffed the cave beneath,

"That was my brandy-flask," quoth one, "I forced between your teeth."

"Else you had perished in the snow, in truth, you looked far gone.

'Twas by the greatest chance on earth we found you here at dawn.

I thought you dead, but still I plied my flask, and, as you see,

It has proved worthy of its name, immortal 'Eau-de-Vie.'"

I thanked them for their courtesy, but when I strove to rise,

No muscle of my rigid frame could I, to my surprise,

As much as put in motion. My bones seemed on the rack,

And to my châlet's fire-side had to be carried back.

'Twas long ere I recovered my wonted life and strength;

The tourists oft would visit me, and we grew friends at length.

And the day of my recovery, to mark the grand event,

I started in their company to make a great ascent.

My mountain days are over now, my friends in other climes;

But when we meet together we talk of bygone times.

But still the name of Glacier for ever doth recall The horrors of that fearful night, within that icy hall.

And at their friendly tables I'm often asked to dine.

They order "Vin du Glacier," as well as other wine,

And ask me if it tastes as well, as o'er their wine they sing,

As that from out the cellars of H.M. the Glacier King.

Hardly had the poet concluded his lay, when the cheering and clapping of hands that ensued half-deafened all present; that is to say, with the exception of two individuals—viz., the worthy captain and our friend the comedian, who had been deaf for some time past, under the kindly influences of the punch.

To say that the health of the poet was drunk with three times three would be unnecessary. We leave that to the imagination of the reader. Not only was that conventional ceremony gone through, but the chairman, after a short complimentary speech, proposed that a crown of laurels should be made and the young poet crowned therewith there and then.

The poet modestly interposed, but the command of the president, especially on such an occasion as the present, was not to be recalled. John Hearty, of the "Headless Lady," was sent outside, snowing hard as it was, to gather some laurel from a bush which grew close to the inn, and the poet was crowned with all due honours. There were two, however, who did not witness the imposing ceremony. Who these two were we will leave our readers to guess.

The fumes of the punch had thrown the ideas of these two worthies into another channel, and the reverie into which they had fallen was so deep as to render them perfectly unconscious of all that was going on around them.

The captain was the first to recover from his meditations.

"Ease her! Stop her!" he cried, awaking with a yawn.

Then, glancing round at the company, his eye first caught sight of the poet's brow crowned with laurels.

"Odds bobs, messmate!" he cried, "what the deuce have they been doing to your figurehead?"

"Ah! captain," said one of the members, "you do not know what you have lost. You've missed a song."

"Missed a song, have I? Well, I thought someone must have been singing; it came in my dream. But what, in the name of Davy Jones, has Mr. Parnassus been taking. Why, one would think he had been taking a glass of prussic acid, to break out all over laurel leaves like that."

"That," said the chairman, "is the crown awarded to genius. Mr. Parnassus has this evening—or, I should say, this morning—favoured us with a poem."

"Humph!" said the captain, who was not of a poetical nature himself.

"Yes," continued the chairman, "a poem; the work of his own pure brain, for which he has been rewarded with the crown that now adorns his temples, a crown of no intrinsic value, as you perceive, like the bejewelled diadem of royalty, but which, nevertheless, has been sought after by minds no less ambitious in the early days of ancient history, when the love of honour alone was a deeper incitement to the soul than the mere love of worldly pelf, and when once obtained, was guarded as zealously——"

Here our comic friend showed some signs of returning animation. He stretched, yawned, and, rubbing his eyes, gazed round upon the company in bewilderment. He also fixed his eyes on the laurel crown, and so ludicrous was the expression of wonder on his countenance, although he did not utter a word, that the whole company was thrown into an immoderate fit of laughter, which completely drowned the end of the chairman's sententious speech. The poor little comedian got most unmercifully chaffed by each of the company in turn, being asked gravely by one what his opinion was of the last story; by another, whether he liked the punch—whether it was strong enough for him. By another wag he was offered a penny for his thoughts; while another insisted upon hearing the story he had been thinking of all that time, etc., etc. The little man answered good-humouredly to all their bantering, when the president once more thumped the table.

"Captain Toughyarn," he began, "you have been guilty at our meeting of falling asleep in the middle of a story, and of being so engrossed in your state of—of—What shall I say, gentlemen?—of lethargy, as to be totally unconscious of a most spirited song that ensued. You have raised our curiosity, however, by telling us that the song entered into and formed part of your dream. We would fain hear your dream, as some slight expiation of such gross violation of etiquette."

"What will he say to me," thought our comic friend, "if he doesn't let the captain escape?"

"Hear, hear!" cried several voices at once. "By Jove, you're in for it too, Jollytoast."

"Well, chairman," said the captain, "I'm sorry I've broken through discipline; but when a man has got grog stowed away in his hull——"

"Exactly so," said the chairman; "but for all that the company must hear your dream."

"Yes, yes!" shouted the company.