I. PART I.
1.
Over a sea, whose severing azure kept
Two continents asunder, and unknown
Each to the other, for the first time swept
A lonely vessel, star-led, and wind-blown.
2.
Then, lured from the deeps of the under-world,
Shoals of fishes, with fins unfurl'd,
Came up to gaze upon that strange guest
Of Ocean's yet unburden'd breast;
Wallow'd after with staring eyes,
And gaping mouths, in a great surprise;
And, as 'tis the wont of the multitude,
Exchanged opinions quick and crude.
3.
“The thing is, I think, a dead fish,” said
A floundering Dolphin. “Nay, not dead!
The creature is lively enough, I trow,”
A Sturgeon answer'd. “Round him skimming,
I mark'd the tail of him move just now,
And it changed the course that he was swimming.”
“Fools!” snarl'd the Shark, “ye are wide of the mark.
For, whatever it be, 'tis no fish at all.
Leagues on leagues thro' the glimmering dark,
Awake, and awatch, whate'er befall,
Ever behind, by day and night,
I have follow'd and kept the beast in sight.
And it does not dive. A fish? Absurd!
Pray, what of its wings, if it be not a bird?”
4.
“'Tis no more of a bird than you or I,”
A Mackerel pertly made reply.
“And I'll tell you, gossips, the reason why.
For, in spite of its wings, it cannot fly.
Nay, what you have taken for wings, indeed,
Are merely membranes; webs, it frees
And furls at pleasure, like those that speed
The nautilus catching the broad south breeze.
'Tis a nautilus, too. And, altho' no doubt
A most astonishing nautilus, yet
But a nautilus, and no more. Look out,
And you'll see the shell of it, black as jet,
Not white, as a nautilus' shell should be,
But a shell no less, as it seems to me,
Under the sea-brim gliding fast.”
5.
Just then the wind dropp'd; and the ship
Threw out an anchor, and staid fast.
“There now!” with contumelious lip
An Oyster lisp'd, “it is clear at last!
I always said it, altho' I grant
I never said it out loud and bold
As I say it now. But the thing is a plant,
And the plant has just taken root, behold!
From the coral beds where I lived long
I have often watch'd, by small degrees,
(And I guess'd that my guess could not be wrong)
The birth and growth of the cocoa trees.
They send up a stem from sea to sky,
Like this one here; which appears to be
Born of the black nut yonder. Try,
With minds from preconception free,
Upon its top to fix your eye.
It will presently put forth leaves, you'll see.”
6.
And, in fact, as it chanced, that intelligent Oyster
Had scarcely relapsed into silence stately,
Ere the Polyps and Sponges, that, thronging his cloister,
Had with deference heard his discourse, were greatly
Confirm'd in respect for the Oyster's sagacity,
And impress'd by the weight of the Oyster's word;
For, as tho' to establish its perfect veracity,
A flag now slowly mounted the cord,
And fix'd itself on the mizzen-mast.
7.
“Fiat lux!” they exclaim'd, aghast.
“Solved is the problem! Proud are we
Gracing our President's Chair to see
Such a pearl of an oyster!” Then
Each in turn they extoll'd again
Him and themselves, with a grateful mind.
Meanwhile, a Crab, who was ignorant
But enterprising, had design'd,
As touching this prodigious plant,
Ingenious means whereby to find
In what those savants told him of it
Occasion for his private profit
And own advantage. 'Tis the way
Of all industrial speculators
Who follow, in the hope of prey,
The march of truth's investigators;
As ever behind in an army's track
Follow marauding thieves,
Or as every lion a jackal hath,
Who lives upon what he leaves.
8.
And already the mouth of this greedy Crab
Was watering at the thought delicious
Of the chance by Science made his, to grab
With a crafty claw, of all gain ambitious,
The fruit of the new-found cocoa tree;
Extracting from it the milk nutritious
With which it must needs abound, thought he.
So up he climb'd by the anchor cable,
Sideways and sly, as a crab is able.
9.
That Crab never came to himself again.
For a sailor, who happen'd to spy him plain
In the sternsheets seeking where next to settle,
Chuck'd him into the cook's soup-kettle.
10.
This strengthen'd the Oyster's reputation
By affording his theory confirmation;
Since the victim of it never could prove
That flaw in the whole hypothesis
Which had cost him so dear for his first false move.
But the best accredited doctrine is
Exposed to the rancour, soon or late,
Of those who happen'd the chance to miss
Of inventing it; and we needs must state
That it fared, in the end, no better with this.
For a crowd of young Corals, red with rage,
Quitted their benches, and cried, “Old fogies!
That a plant? This enlighten'd age
Blushes for shame of such barefaced bogies.
We can all of us see 'tis a noble isle
Yet uncramp'd by this old world's wretched conditions.
Up! colonise boldly that virgin soil,
And away with your classical superstitions!”
Then those young colonists, Corals Romantic,
Attach'd themselves to that wandering strand,
Which, with them, away thro' the stormy Atlantic
Went till both it and the whole of the band
Were woefully shipwreckt one wild day.
11.
The old Corals lifted their arms to heaven
With desperate gestures, as who should say
“Can such madness be, and yet be forgiven?”
In this attitude fishers, in after ages,
Fish'd them up, poor old classical sages!
And men turn'd them—thus, with uplifted arms,
And fingers pointed in admonition,
Into dozens and dozens of tiny charms
Against a different superstition.
12.
A whole sea of opinions, as time went by,
Was floating about. And that sea's small fry
Were sorely afraid lest the mighty main
By the monster's snout should be shorn in twain.
“For look!” said they, “how profound and strong,
“Is the furrow it cleaves in its woeful wake!”
But the fluent and fathomless deep, not long
Disjoin'd, closed over it while they spake.
And the waters were as the waters had been,
And that furrow, so fear'd, was no longer seen.
