The Two Adventures And The Talisman

No flowery path to glory leads.

This truth no better voucher needs

Than Hercules, of mighty deeds.

Few demigods, the tomes of fable

Reveal to us as being able

Such weight of task-work to endure:

In history, I find still fewer.

One such, however, here behold -

A knight by talisman made bold,

Within the regions of romance,

To seek adventures with the lance.

There rode a comrade at his ride,

And as they rode they both espied

This writing on a post: -

"Wouldst see, sir valiant knight,

A thing whereof the sight

No errant yet can boast?

Thou hast this torrent but to ford,

And, lifting up, alone,

The elephant of stone

Upon its margin shored,

Upbear it to the mountain's brow,

Round which, aloft before thee now,

The misty chaplets wreathe -

Not stopping once to breathe."

One knight, whose nostrils bled,

Betokening courage fled,

Cried out, 'What if that current's sweep

Not only rapid be, but deep!

And grant it cross'd, - pray, why encumber

One's arms with that unwieldy lumber,

An elephant of stone?

Perhaps the artist may have done

His work in such a way, that one

Might lug it twice its length;

But then to reach yon mountain top,

And that without a breathing stop,

Were surely past a mortal's strength -

Unless, indeed, it be no bigger

Than some wee, pigmy, dwarfish figure,

Which one would head a cane withal; -

And if to this the case should fall,

The adventurer's honour would be small!

This posting seems to me a trap,

Or riddle for some greenish chap;

I therefore leave the whole to you.'

The doubtful reasoner onward hies.

With heart resolved, in spite of eyes,

The other boldly dashes through;

Nor depth of flood nor force

Can stop his onward course.

He finds the elephant of stone;

He lifts it all alone;

Without a breathing stop,

He bears it to the top

Of that steep mount, and seeth there

A high-wall'd city, great and fair.

Out-cried the elephant - and hush'd;

But forth in arms the people rush'd.

A knight less bold had surely fled;

But he, so far from turning back,

His course right onward sped,

Resolved himself to make attack,

And die but with the bravest dead.

Amazed was he to hear that band

Proclaim him monarch of their land,

And welcome him, in place of one

Whose death had left a vacant throne!

In sooth, he lent a gracious ear,

Meanwhile expressing modest fear,

Lest such a load of royal care

Should be too great for him to bear.

And so, exactly, Sixtus[2] said,

When first the pope's tiara press'd his head;

(Though, is it such a grievous thing

To be a pope, or be a king?)

But days were few before they read it,

That with but little truth he said it.

Blind Fortune follows daring blind.

Oft executes the wisest man,

Ere yet the wisdom of his mind

Is task'd his means or end to scan.