THE COMING OF NINETY-TWO.
(With humble apologies, and hearty New-Year greetings, to the illustrious Author of "The Coming of Arthur.")
And PUNCHIUS ever served the good Old Year
Before his death-hour struck; and on the night
When he, on twelve's last stroke must pass away,
Room making for his heir, great PUNCHIUS-MERLIN
Left the Old King, and passing forth to breathe,
Then from the mystic gateway by the chasm
Descending through the wintry night—a night
In which the bounds of year and year were blent—
Beheld, so high upon the wave-tost deep
It seemed in heaven, a light, the shape thereof
An angel winged, and all from head to feet
Bright with a shining radiance golden-rayed,
And gone as soon as seen; and PUNCHIUS knew
The oft-glimpsed face of Hope, the blue-eyed guest,
Avant-courier of Peace and of Good Will,
And herald of Good Tidings. Then the Sage
Dropt to the cave, and watched the great sea fall
Wave after wave, each mightier than the last.
Till last, a great one, gathering half the deep
And full of voices, slowly rose and plunged,
Roaring, and all the wave was in a flame.
And down the wave and in the flame, was borne
A naked Babe, and rode to PUNCH's feet,
Who stoopt, and caught the Babe, and cried "The Year!
Here is an heir for Ninety-One!" The fringe
Of that great breaker, sweeping up the strand
Lashed at the wizard as he spake the word,
And all at once all round him rose in light,
So that the Child and he were clothed in light,
And presently thereafter followed calm,
Loud bells, and song!
"And this same Child," PUNCH said,
"Twelve moons shall reign, nor will I part with him
Till these be told." And saying this the Sage,
The Modern MERLIN of the motley coat,
Wizard of Wit and Seer of Sunny Mirth,
Took up the wave-borne youngster in his arms,
His nurse, his champion, his Mentor wise,
And bare him shoreward out of wind and wet,
Into his sanctum, where choice fare was spread,
And cosy comfort ready to receive
Young Ninety-Two, and give him a "send-off"
Such as should strengthen and encourage him
To make fair start, and face those many moons
Of multiform vicissitude with pluck,
Good hope and patient pertinacity.
And when men sought the Modern MERLIN's ear
And asked him what these matters might portend,
The shining angel, and the naked Child
Descending in the glory of the seas,
He laughed, as is his wont, and answered them
In riddling triplets of old time, and said:
"Peace and good-will! Croaking is all my eye!
A young man will be wiser by-and-by,
An old man's wit should ripen ere he die.
"Patience and pluck! Fretting is fiddle-de-dee.
And youth has yet to learn to act and see,
And youth is well-advised that trusts to Me!
"Hope and good cheer! This youngster's fate who knows?
Sun, rain, and frost will greet him ere life's close;
From the great dark to the great dark he goes."
So MERLIN, riddling, answered them; but thou,
Fear not to face thy fate, O sea-born Child!
Young Ninety-Two! Great Bards of thee may sing
Hereafter; and great sayings from of old
Ranging and ringing thro' the minds of men,
Of Progress, and Improvement, and of Peace,
Of nobler Work, and a more ample Wage,
Of wider culture, and of worthier joys,
Larger attainments, and less coarse desires,
And gentler tastes; these shall be heard of youth.
And echo'd by old folk beside their fires,
For comfort after their wage-work is done—
No workhouse fires, but cosy fires of Home!—
These thee shall greet, PUNCH-MERLIN, in thy time,
Shall voice them also, not in jest, and swear,
Though men may wound Truth, that she will not die,
But pass, again to come; and, then or now,
Utterly smite foul Falsehood underfoot,
Till, with PUNCH, all men hail her for their Queen!