"Twas in Earth's younger day,

MORGANTE MAGGIORE.

Ere the beard of Time had grown so grey,

Ere Druids bent at Stanton Drew,

And when England's white-wash'd walls were new,
Among the fresh but sturdy trees,

Over those fruitful shores that grew

Where dirty Sabrina to ocean descends,

And rolls like a pig in the mud at her ease,

There dwelt two giants, brothers and friends.

They regarded each other as brother and brother

Such Goram deem'd Vincent, such Vincent deem'd Goram;

But I know not if either had father or mother,

Or if at that period there lived any other,

Or if any such had existence before 'em.

How there came to exist such a huge pair of folks
I never could guess, nor was told, nor have read-
Perhaps they sprung out of a forest of oaks,

But assuredly not from a parsley bed.

One might doubt if they ever were infants at all,
But if they were such, I would simply remark,
That to serve as their pap-boat a boat had been small,
And their cradle were little if less than the ark.
They'd have nursed the Colossus of Rhodes as a doll,
And perform'd a fit feat for mankind to admire-
As a humming-top using the dome of St. Paul,

Or have made it a peg-top with Salisbury spire.

One day, it was very agreeable weather,

The air was soft and still,

Vincent and Goram sat together

On the top of an eminent hill.

The sun smiling downwards so warmly and brightly,
The mammoths were frisking about very lightly;

The icthyosaurus and plesiosaurus

(Who afterwards died to be specimens for us)

Were crawling, and turning, and twisting, and twining,

Enjoying the warming, admiring the shining,

And not for a moment divining

That their limbs so full of quick actions
Should ever be petrifactions,

And that centuries hence should see 'em

Arranged in the British Museum :

And the cheiropodon whisk'd his tail in the air,

With a sort of expression of "devil may care."

But Vincent look'd thoughtful and Goram look'd dull,
(For the latter was mark'd by a thickness of scull,)
And Vincent at last the glad silence 'gan mar
With a voice like an organ, but louder by far.

Loud it was, but not ungracious,

For his spirit was mild though his lungs were capacious.

"Goram," he said, "I am sad to think
How life is fleeting o'er us-
We wake, we sleep, we eat, we drink;
And, lo, these things before us!

Our mastodonta, our cheiropodonta,
Our icthyosauri, our plesiosauri,

Which you and I eat whenever we want a
Somewhat to swallow

To fill up a hollow

They go on as wisely as either you or I.

They sleep and they wake, they drink and they eat,
And frolic around us on light little feet,

Nor know that to-morrow they'll serve us for meat;

Or dying in some little chink of the stones,

Lie there till the soft earth grows hard round their bones.

And shall such be our fate? Shall our names and our deeds

Be for ever unknown to the race that succeeds?

Shall we not do some act a renown that may yield,
And exalt us above these poor beasts of the field?"

"Well," Goram said, and scratch'd his head,

Which was thickly matted with whalebone hair; "Let us build a great mound, with its foot on the ground, And its head very loftily raised in the air:

Let us build it of rocks, and the bones of our flocks
Shall be stuck all around it as marks of our power;
And we thus shall disclose what great giants were those
Who could raise on the earth so enormous a tower,
And eat so much mammoths as we shall devour;
So do you pick some rocks from this hill's craggy side,
And I will take measures new bones to provide."

"Then new people would say," Vincent made him reply, "Mark the pride of the giants of old!

They rear'd up great pillars of rock to the sky,
And exalted the bones of their creatures on high,
But their own have sunk into the mould!
They work'd with no wise or beneficent aims,
And therefore Renown hath forgotten their names."

And Vincent pursued:-"Let us do some great deed,
To make Envy die at, and Malice grow dumb;
That may gain us eternal renown as our meed,

And astonish the natives in ages to come.
Behold this fair lake that out-stretches so vast here,
And think what a rich soil the water conceals!
From numberless hills all the waters are cast here,
Which every new year make it oilier than last year;
A bottomless bottom of mud is amass'd here;
And if we should drain it we form a fat pasture.
Besides 'tis worth heeding-

By such a proceeding

We gain an abundance of newts and of eels"

(The newts were the saurians renown'd in our song,

And the eels great sea-monsters, three hundred feet long,)

"Let us cleave then a passage just here through the rocks,

And win this fine pasture to fold in our flocks."

But Goram was heavy and slow,

And fear'd that the toil would be great;

Moreover, he wanted to know,

And requested his brother to state,

With what sort of tool they could possibly shiver

That firm mass of rock 'twixt the lake and the river?

"Leave that to my care,"

His companion replied; "And I will prepare,

And I will provide,

A suitable tool for the purpose in view,

That will serve very well for myself and for you.
For, a few days ago, as I wander'd alone,

With my hook and my line by the side of the brook,"

(His line was a cable, an anchor his hook

Whence he got them I know not, I know but the factAnd the brook was the sea, if we must be exact ;) "To essay and to look, if, by hook and by crook, I might coax a leviathan out of his nook,It so came to pass,

That I met with a mass

Vincent, of course, was convinced he should win ;
And Goram, though dull, was too wise to step in
To such imminent risk

Of the loss of some meals;

So his answer was brisk

To his brother's appeals:

"I do not spy wisdom," he said, " in your words;

Let each of us do as seems best in his view.

I will attend to our flocks and our herds,

And you, if it you like-if your taste it may strikeMay go and pick channels among the rocks."

And then he added, and smiled so grim,

('Twas a very sly sort of a smile for him;

But Goram at times was a bit of a fox,)

And his tongue went over his upper lip,

As a wave of the sea o'er the bows of a ship,

"Trust me to take care of our herds and our flocks."

So the wiser giant form'd his axe,

And bruised the earth with sore attacks;

Whilst thoughtless Goram, prone to munch,

(His jaws would work though his hands were lax,) Went gathering oak-trees many a bunch,

To broil a lion and elk for lunch.

He stuck a small ash-tree through both of their backs,
And twirl'd them round before the fire,

And basted them well by squeezing a seal;

Devoted some moments to sniff and admire,
And then made a very delectable meal.

Such was the way he spent his time;
Or, unemployed by nobler cares,
Not having taste for aught sublime,

Set Sampson's posts for wolves and bears.

But after awhile, growing thoroughly sick
Of silently sauntering to and fro,

And seeing his brother so busy and quick,
And knowing that he was so lazy and slow-

270

Scarcely contriving a morn to beguile,
By throwing great rocks at Lundy Isle ;*
And eking out time from noon till dusk,
By picking his teeth with an elephant's tusk;
He knew not himself the reason why,
But he suddenly made a resolve to try
And cut a canal also.

This plot conceived, he was not lax
To carry out his plan;

So he borrow'd the loan of Vincent's axe,

And without delay began.

At Vincent's work he seem'd to scoff,

Though he scarce had reason why;

So he chose a spot, some three miles off,

Where his own canal should lie :

Which he meant should be better, in every respect,
Than that one which Vincent had thought to effect;
Wider and shorter, and sloped off more cunningly,

That the waves of the lake should glide out through it runningly.

Glad he thus should find employ,
Vincent lent his axe with joy;

And both at last agreed

By hourly turns to hew the rocks-
By hourly turns to tend their flocks-
And lest there might succeed
Dispute about their times of trial,
To raise up truth above denial
They made a most appropriate dial

For such gigantic powers:

A branchless pine-tree form'd the gnomon,
With trenches carved out on the common
To indicate the hours.

And Goram deeming that his plan
Would shorter be, and simpler than
What his competitor began,

Consented to a wager:

If he had been a wiser man,

He would have been a sager.

"If I should lose," bold Vincent said,
"Devolve the duty on my hands
Of gathering bushes for our bed,
And trees and branches dry and dead,
To feed our fire with brands;
Added to which, and free from feigning,
Throughout the term of life remaining,
I'll take on me, without complaining,
The building, covering, and maintaining,
The fencing, planting, watering, draining,
Of all our tenements and lands."

"And I," said Goram, "if I lose,
(But that I don't intend, or choose,)
For ever will supply

A weekly tribute to your hand,
Of twelve fat mastodonta, and
A megatherium pie."

Vincent, now a practised hand,
Lost no moment of his hour,
But his progress rightly plann'd,
With a due reserve of power:
For well knew he, that oft, indeed,

"The greater the haste the less the speed."

* A barren island, near the mouth of the Bristol Channel,

But Goram work'd hard whilst his muscles were pliant;
For Goram, when roused, was a mighty fierce giant,
The hill was soon riven with cracks;

And still on the rocks, as he batter'd and batter'd,
Large splinters across to the Severn were scatter'd-
Earth shook with his forceful attacks:

And Antipodes (far away over the ocean,)
Leap'd up with a sharp, perpendicular motion,
Without any previous purpose or notion,
At every strong blow of his axe.

But whilst Vincent went steadily, steadily on,
Goram grew tired, and greatly desired,
He had not committed-(Õh, giant! short-witted!
How greatly such cloddy-brains are to be pitied!)—
Himself in the mode we have treated upon.

He thought, with a sigh, of the weekly pie,

Which he rather would cook for himself than his brother;

And he 'gan to think if he might not shrink

Out of his compact in some way or other.

He pick'd at the hill, with small power or skill,
For only a very few minutes' together;
Then threw down his implement
Swearing he simply meant

To rest for a moment and look at the weather.
But for an hour together he'd linger,
Biting his cocoa-nut husk of a finger,
Or sucking his thumb of rhinoceros leather.

Then again he would take the tool
And work without design or rule,
Clipping a little off here and there,
Till after a time he made it his care
To hew for himself a great arm-chair
Wherein he might sit, with an easy air,
As oft as the weather was hot, to cool

His porpoise toes in the river below:
For already the waters began to flow
Through the rocks that have form'd our theme;
And 'twas pleasant to sit with his feet in the stream.

Ye who have roam'd, with favour'd feet,

Through the enchanted grounds of Blaise,

(Know ye a scene that's half so fair?)

Have seen the giant's stony seat

Such as 'twas form'd in ancient days

Still do they call it, "Goram's chair."*

Now o'er the top ashes gracefully bow,
Ever-green ivy-trails climb up it now;
Grass, moss, and woodbine, its cushion have made;
Festoons of roses hang over its arms;
Foxglove and nightshade are round it array'd,
And soft-scented clematis adds to its charms.
Thus its attractions are forty times greater
(Thanks to the tasteful upholstery of nature-
Thanks to old Time with his fine necromancy)
Than ever the muddy-brain'd giant could fancy.

* "Goram's Chair," or "The Giant's Chair," in the beautiful grounds of Blaise Castle at Henbury, is a remarkable rock, in form closely resembling an arm-chair. three miles from Bristol, and is situated on the edge of a ravine through which runs a rivulet, It is distant about called, by courtesy, the River Trim. Tradition relates, as stated in the text (but statements in verse pass for nothing, which gives occasion to this note in prose), that the giant Goram used to sit in the chair and bathe his feet in the water below.