Forgotten Treasures #21: A PISCATORIAL ECLOGUE
 

[Angling has spawned a vast literature, examples of which cover the entire
spectrum of human experience. Sometimes, as will be seen below, the
connection with the erstwhile subject matter tends toward the metaphorical.
:) ws]



A PISCATORIAL ECLOGUE*.



VEL ISAACUS WALTON IN NOVAM SCALAM REDIVIVUS.



BY PETER VON GEIST.





PISCATOR. You are happily met, my fair young lady!



DISCIPULA. A very good morrow to you, Mr. PISCATOR. You are early a-foot,
with your rod and lines.



PISCATOR. A veteran of the angle will be stirring early; there is a brace of
fish waiting for my hook on the other side of our lake. But you, my gentle
maiden, have you come down to the beach to see the sun rise? and mayhap to
pluck a rose with the dew on't? I think you have found it; for I think I can
see the rose on your cheek, and the dew in your eye. It is sweet to be up
betimes in the morning, when the air and the new sunlight are as clear and
calm as your own thoughts.



DISCIPULA. It is even so, as you and I know right well. A pleasant sail to
you; God send a dozen fish, and may you kill them merrily. But honest Mr.
Piscator, do you go alone to-day?



PISCATOR. I think so to do; for you are to note, a companion of patience and
sober demeanor, free from profane jests and scurrilous discourse, is worth
gold, but is not so easy to be come at. And none other than such jumps with
my humor.



DISCIPULA. And when, my good Mr. Piscator, will you give me another lesson
in the art of angling? For you must know the last has only increased my
desire to learn something more of it. Or do you think that we women can
never attain skill in that noble and gentle art?



PISCATOR. That it is a noble and a gentle art I am ready to maintain; and
that women have attained skill in it is not to be doubted; as you will read
in books of old time, that ladies both hunted, and hawked, and fished.



DISCIPULA. But the lesson, my honest master? When shall I have another
lesson?



PISCATOR. You shall even suit your own convenience. And some fine morning,
when you are so disposed, we will take a walk down the river; when I will
teach you to cast your line for trout; for indeed, it requires a sharp wit
and much practice to throw your fly so that the trout will rise at it.



DISCIPULA. Not in the river, if it please you, good Mr. Piscator, not in the
river! Teach me to fish in the lake.



PISCATOR. Without doubt, my fair young lady, it must be as you desire. And
yet, it is not every woman that would have the courage to cross the pond in
a skiff that rocks to every ripple.



DISCIPULA. Trust me for that. You should know that I am not wont to be
frightened at trifles.



PISCATOR. Truly, it is so; and I do not question your courage. Then on any
day that you will appoint, GOD willing, I will give you a sail; or indeed,
this morning, if duty does not incline you in another direction, and you
will step with me into my little boat yonder.



DISCIPULA. That shall I with right good will. But I shall have to make you
wait while I get my fishing tackle.



PISCATOR. Of necessity you shall not do that; for I remember now, I can fit
you with a spare harness of my own.



DISCIPULA. Then let us be going, say I. And is this the skiff? What a
painted little cockle-shell of a boat, with its two masts! I suppose it will
bear us both?



PISCATOR. It will bear twenty like you and me. Please let me help you to
step in; and though you feel it to give under your feet, and as it were,
slide away from beneath you, yet now when you are set down on the bench, you
perceive it is perfectly steady.



DISCIPULA. Oh, I shall not be in the least afraid. What a tiny little
schooner! But is it not bold to spread both sails? And see, now that we come
round to the wind, how the skiff keels over.



PISCATOR. It is entirely safe, my fair scholar; for since you have chosen me
to be your instructor and master in the science of the angle, you must be
content to be called my scholar. It is entirely safe; and you must observe,
that however much it may keel over, it cannot upset; for if struck by a
sudden squall, or flaw of the wind, the masts will go by the board, and so
it will right.



DISCIPULA. Excellently well contrived. But has not the breeze suddenly died
away? Yet the sails are distended, and miniature waves are thrown off from
either side of the bow.



PISCATOR. The breeze seems to have decreased, because we are moving in the
same direction with it; and you will see, now when I bring the boat more
toward the wind, that it blows as strong as before, and our motion is well
nigh stopped.



DISCIPULA. That I can very well see; and I pray you, my master, not to bring
the skiff so far into the wind to prove your proposition to me as to capsize
it. The masts bend over toward the water more than it is pleasant to see.



PISCATOR. There is no danger; and after half an hour's experience you will
become used to it, and lose all apprehension. I think I will alter our
course a couple of points; so if you have a mind, since I cannot well leave
the tiller, you may unloose the cord that fastens the forward sail to the
side of the boat; wait a moment till we come round, and the sail hangs loose
in the wind; now loose the rope, and let it out about a foot; so, wind it
round as it was before. Neatly done! Next, let out the other sail in the
same way and to the same length. It was well executed! Really, you are
destined to become a sailor's wife after all.



DISCIPULA. Marry, I hope so. But why 'after all?'



PISCATOR. Nay, I meant nothing; except, that whereas I formerly thought you
rather affected the land, now I find that you are courageous on the water;
and therefore, I say you deserve a Commodore. Observe now, we are running
more nearly with the wind, and move faster. It is a favorable breeze; for
our fishing-ground is in the south-eastern corner of the lake, behind that
highland which you see yonder; and this blows from the western quarter. We
shall soon be there.



DISCIPULA. Be in no hurry; I am in none. Is it not a fine morning? Those
white, high-flying clouds, rolled up into fleeces like wool, with ragged
patches of the sky between them, above us, and the broad blue bosom of the
lake, with the multitude of little waves leaping up and dancing all over its
surface beneath us, and our boat, in the midst of both sky and water,
gliding calmly along like a bird with his wings spread floating in the air!
Is it not a lovely morning? Yes, yes; I must be a sailor's wife, and live on
the ocean! Or perhaps, rather, a fisherman's wife, and sail on a lake like
this. If I should happen to meet with one of the latter class, of approved
character, somewhat mature in years and grave in demeanor, kind of
disposition and manly of countenance, one who would let me go sailing with
him every day, (of course I am not describing you, Mr. Piscator,) I
think--yes, I am quite certain, that he would content me.



PISCATOR. Nay, nay, my fair young lady, you are pleased to mock! 'Mature in
years and grave in demeanor,' said you? A gallant young sailor for you, say
I! There are many who sigh for the favor which you have so freely granted me
to-day. Ah, you should not jeer.



DISCIPULA. I tell you, Mr. Piscator, none but you for me this day! I am not
going to think of any body but you; for I tell you plainly, I like you very
much.



PISCATOR. Ah, yes, yes; certainly--without doubt, I hope so; surely, why
should you not?



DISCIPULA. And what a beautiful island! The grass grows down almost to the
water's edge, leaving a narrow belt of white sand; how it glistens in the
sun-light! and those half-a-dozen tall trees in the centre, how do you
suppose they came to grow there alone so?



PISCATOR. That is a question which I have often asked, but have never been
able to satisfy myself, as to how they came there. They have stood for more
generations than one, and will cast their shadows on the water when other
boats than ours sail past them, and other eyes than ours wonder at them. Now
we are nearly at our journey's end; when we pass through the opening between
that island ahead of us, and the main land, we shall be on our
fishing-ground.



DISCIPULA. Is it possible that we have reached here so quick? It is not half
so far as I thought it was. And yet, on looking back, there is a wide waste
lying between us and the cove from which we started. How diminutive the
house on the high ground back of the landing-place looks; like a mole-hill,
and the trees around it like shrubs! Well sped, little bark! A swift and an
easy-paced courser are you; steadily now, through this narrow strait;
steadily and gently, for your race is almost run.



PISCATOR. The channel begins to widen again; and lo! here we are in a lake
by itself as it were; a sheet of water full a mile long and a quarter of a
mile wide. And herein the fish mostly do congregate. I will hold on to near
the middle, and then drop the anchor.



DISCIPULA. It is indeed a fine sheet; smooth as any mirror; clearer than
glass. I suppose the fish assemble here when they get tired of the roughness
and commotion of the lake without, because it is so calm and still. Is it
not so?



PISCATOR. It may be so; it is a good reason, and I will believe that it is
so, since you have supposed it. This is as good a place as any, and here we
will cast our lines; and there is so little wind stirring, that we shall
only need to furl our sails, and the boat will remain at rest. Now then,
here is your rod, nicely put together, with a fly on the hook. A pike will
rise as quick at an artificial fly as at a live one; a greedy fish is that
pike; and if we should have occasion, I have other kinds of bait. Take it,
and throw your line out as I taught you before. But what are you regarding
so intently?



DISCIPULA. I am looking at the shadow of the trees in the water; an inverted
forest in the lake. Fish a little while alone, and let me look.



PISCATOR. It has become so late in the day that I have not much hope of
taking many now. However, I can but try. This same rod and line have done me
good service in this same place, before to-day. Ah, I see a pike! I'll have
him! Look! look how slowly and warily he comes up toward the bait! When he
gets within a few feet of it, he will make a dash, and gorge it without
stopping to think. Ah, there he goes with it; and here he comes back with
it, straight up into the boat. Upon my word, a reasonable fish; he wont
weigh short of three pounds.



DISCIPULA. Oh, Mr. Piscator! here's a new heaven and a new earth beneath us!
Waving trees with birds flitting among their branches, and far down below,
flying clouds and blue sky. A perfect hemisphere, and we are hanging over
it, without any thing to support us! I shouldn't be surprised, to feel
myself this minute tumbling down into it, down to the new heaven! I have
been expecting to, for some time past; and what a fall would that be! Do you
suppose we should stop when we got there?



PISCATOR. If we did not, where should we go to?



DISCIPULA. Ah, where!



PISCATOR. These fish do not seem inclined to bite this morning. Yet there is
one larger than that I caught before. I must have him, too. Observe how
wistfully he eyes the bait; let the fly skim slowly along the water, just
over him; that is the way, Sir, to swallow a hook; and now come up, and
slide into the basket, out of sight, and keep your brother company.



DISCIPULA. Mr. Piscator, when you make such a splashing in the water, you
ruffle and wrinkle my submarine prospect. Please don't.



PISCATOR. I think it will be profitless trying to take any more this
forenoon; toward night they will bite again. And what shall we do in the
mean time? Usually, when I come out here alone, I go ashore, and rest myself
during these hours, amid the fragrant shades of the thick trees, that screen
me from the mid-day heat. Would you like to take such a ramble?--or are you
inclined to stay here, and gaze into the water?



DISCIPULA. I suppose the picture will keep till we come back. Let us go
ashore, and wander around in the woods, and find romantic grottoes, and
weave flower-wreaths, and build castles in the air.



PISCATOR. And half a mile inland, you can see its summit from here, is a
hill that commands a vast tract of lake and woodland.



DISCIPULA. Yes, yes; let us go!



PISCATOR. Well, scholar, here we are again, after our long tramp. You see I
am a better land-pilot than you just now took me to be; for I have brought
us out to the right spot; more by token, yonder is the boat, safe and sound.
I am afraid you are fatigued with our long travels?



DISCIPULA. Not much; but I would like to sit down on the green carpet, under
this shade, for a few minutes.



PISCATOR. It must be, at the least, four of the clock; and although your
nature, my fair young lady, is probably too ethereal to think of such homely
matters, I do not profess mine to be such, and am ready to acknowledge, that
_a little dinner_ would not be unacceptable.



DISCIPULA. Unacceptable? No; but where are we to get it?



PISCATOR. I always bring with me, on my excursions, a hand-basket,
containing----



DISCIPULA. Why in the world!--why _didn't_ you let me know that before? Let
us have it as quick as possible!



PISCATOR. It is in the boat, and if you will remain a moment, I will bring
it up here.



DISCIPULA. Oh yes, do! And be quick, my good master!--as quick as you can!



PISCATOR. Nimble as any page, that waits on lady bright. Here we have the
provisions; and if we could manage to find something for a table-cover, we
might dispense with knives and---- Right, scholar, put your hand into the
basket and help yourself.



DISCIPULA. Ham sandwich! Oh, Mr. Piscator, this is good! Is there enough of
it?



PISCATOR. Enough for us two; and therefore you need not fear to help
yourself heartily, as I am glad to see that you are not. Never was sumptuous
feast to an epicure on gala-day better than my simple fare to me on this
beach, after a morning's sail and ramble.



DISCIPULA. Most excellent! I'll come out here every time I can get a chance,
for the sake of dining with you under the old beech tree.



PISCATOR. It brings to my mind the story of the king, who, after the chase,
took some bread and water at the hut of a woodsman; which, as it is no doubt
well known, I shall not repeat unto you. But the bottom of the basket begins
to appear. What! done already? Good despatch! And now, scholar, we will
immediately to our sport, for we have no time to waste.



DISCIPULA. Yes, yes, immediately to work; I long to try my hand. Here's the
boat; I should think it would have got tired waiting so long for us. But it
looks very patient.



PISCATOR. You may get in, while I loose, and shove off. There appears to be
a sharp breeze blowing on the lake without, yet our pond is as unruffled as
when we left it. We will return to the same spot we were in before, and cast
out our lines.



DISCIPULA. Is this my rod? Fix the bait for me skilfully, and I'll catch
them.



PISCATOR. I cannot promise you great success at first, considering your
inexperience----



DISCIPULA. Oh, I'm going to catch an hundred!



PISCATOR. I hope you may; certainly--I hope you will; and you can only try.
There, your fly is fastened to the hook as well as my art is able. Come, and
sit on this side, and I will give you some instructions how to use it.
First, see that the line is clear of the rod; then give it one swing round
your head; so--and cast it quickly but softly, as far from you as you can on
the water. Neatly done! Now draw it slowly along the surface, and you shall
presently see a fish rise at it. Be more moderate; you draw it too rapidly.
Ha! there it goes under! Wait till you feel him pulling on the line; now
give him a little jerk to the right; there you have him, fairly hooked! You
must be careful, or you'll lose him yet. No; he's not very heavy, and you
may raise him strait out of the water, and land him in the boat; so!



DISCIPULA. Ah, my master, will you tell me that I can't catch fish? Poor
little fish! Oh, but he's a small one: take him off, master, and put him
into the hold. I hunt for nobler game.



PISCATOR. Not a good thought, not a good thought for an angler. Hunt for
nobler game, if you like; but a fisherwoman must not despise the smallest
that comes to her net. Every thing counts.



DISCIPULA. Despise? No; oh no! I would like to catch fifty just such; that
is, if there are no larger ones to angle for.



PISCATOR. Well, your bait is set again. Cast out as before, and I wish you
better luck.



DISCIPULA. Now I am going to catch a large one--a foot long. But, Mr.
Piscator, why do you not use your line?



PISCATOR. I will not interfere with your sport; and beside, I may want to
give you advice how to manage yours. It is not, in general, a good plan to
let the fish see you when you are angling; they are apt to be frightened
away. However, in this case, I shall say nothing against it; because if they
have an eye for beauty, as is commonly believed, your showing yourself
should have a contrary effect. In truth, the influence of beauty is much to
be marvelled at. I remember myself when I was young, and had not yet learned
their vanity, how easy I was to be led away and bewitched by a fair face and
a sparkling eye. That was some time ago; you draw your fly too fast; it was
some years ago; and yet I am fain to confess, that even now, in nothing do I
take more pleasure, than in looking on a ruddy cheek, a polished brow, the
long lashes of a soft blue eye, and upon heavy folds of auburn hair; and it
is for this reason that I have placed you opposite to me now.



DISCIPULA. Why, Mr. Piscator! Did you mean that for a compliment?



PISCATOR. Certainly no. I seldom speak but what I think, for flattery I like
neither to give nor receive. Ah, yes; there are witches in the world yet.
And their witchcraft consists not in magic filters, and potent herbs
gathered at midnight under the full moon; far more subtle and powerful is
it. Like the poisons of eastern countries, it is communicated by a touch, by
a look, by the breath of a word. This is the witchcraft that they use;
therewith lure they men to commit folly. It would seem to be their chief
delight, their main occupation. But I am willing to believe that you are not
so evil-minded; and that when you bewitch men, it is not because you love to
do it, but that it is altogether involuntary.



DISCIPULA. Oh, of course, altogether involuntary. If I had my way, I never
would cause a single flutter in any body's breast--not I. But you see how it
is, I can't help it, and therefore it is not my fault. These fish do not
bite well. There is one, he will weigh four pounds, that has been playing
round and round the hook, but won't touch it. Haven't you got some kind of
sweet smelling oil or perfume to scent the bait with?



PISCATOR. I have some lavender-leaves, and if you will draw up the line, I
will rub the fly over with them, for fish love the smell of lavender. Try
him with that. Ah, I see him--a respectable fish. He is coming up toward the
hook; I think he will take it.



DISCIPULA. He stops and eyes it, as though he half suspected that it would
not be pleasant to the taste, for all its fair looks. But I'll have him, in
spite of his wits. You scrutinize too closely, Sir Pike! You had better take
it at once, without useless inspection. What a noble fellow! How gracefully
he moves through the water! I will make it float carelessly away from him,
dancing on the silver surface, as though it had just fallen fresh from
Heaven; and beside, distance lends enchantment. Ha! see him make a dive at
it! There you have it, Sir! and there I have you!



PISCATOR. Take care, or you'll be over! Hold hard, or he'll have _you_ too!
Upon my word, I was afraid you would go overboard! You should not, in your
eagerness, lean out over the water so far. But you have got the better of
him, and now pull him into the boat and let me take him off.



DISCIPULA. I came near losing my balance; I thought I was gone! Lucky
escape!--but my heart beats yet.



PISCATOR. A fine fish. He has swallowed the bait whole; your large fish
always do. O! I don't know as I can take it out, without hurting him.



DISCIPULA. Poor fish! He does not look quite so spruce and independent as he
did a little while ago. Did your mouth water for that tempting fly. It will
never water again! What deep sighs heave his little breast! but they will
soon be over. Fix the bait, Mr. Piscator, and rub some more lavender on it.
I'll catch another, in less than a minute.



PISCATOR. It is done already. And this time, do not lean over so far, or you
will be in danger of being pulled in, by some fish of greater strength than
usual. Really, I think you are a good angler; you seem to possess the skill
by intuition. Is it not fine sport? I see by the increased flush and light
of your countenance, that you are of the same opinion. It is truly a gentle,
a feminine sport.



DISCIPULA. There is one with the beautifulest eyes, and covered all over
with gold and silver. But he is exceedingly shy. Come, Sir, if you are so
distant, I shall have to approach you myself. I desire a nearer acquaintance
with your beautiful eyes, and your gold and silver scales. Oh! if you move
off in that direction, I shall retire in this! Ah, you've thought better of
it, and are coming back. I knew you would. Observe, Mr. Piscator, how he
turns round and hesitates and doubts what to do. There is no use in his
deliberating; it is inevitable; he has got to do it. Now he turns back. He
seems to have made up his mind that he must have it at all hazards. And see
him shut his eyes and make a dash. I am afraid he finds it unpalatable! Too
rash! too rash! You should have considered better! Take him off, master; he
is nothing very great, after all.



PISCATOR. I see a large one, lying here at the left, deep in the water; of
the kind which we call sucker. It is his nature to lie perfectly still as
though asleep, and not to move till he is touched. Reach here the hook,
while I fasten some pieces of lead to it, enough to sink it; and then I will
tell you how to hook him.



DISCIPULA. I see! I know! I can do it myself, I will let the bait sink
gently down into the water, a little forward of him, thus. Ah, it fell right
on his back! He must be asleep, for he doesn't stir, nor seem to notice it.
Now then, a little forward of him; and so, slowly, softly, float up toward
his nose. He appears to be inspecting the fly; he sleeps with his mouth wide
open; as a natural history philosopher might examine a butterfly; and since
it is so closely presented, suppose you try the sense of taste too, Sir! It
is pleasant to the eye, you will find it also good for food, and to be
desired to make one wise. Allow it to fall imperceptibly into your mouth;
nay, you cannot judge of its merits from a half trial, like that; it must be
taken entirely in. Don't exert yourself, in the least; another inspiration,
and you are possessed. Ha! is it not good?--is it not sweet? He must be very
fond of it, he holds on to it so hard! Astonished fish! he wakes up, and
opens his eyes with wonder; there is more in it than he dreamed of! Strait
up to the light here, and show your agitated countenance. Now please to open
your lips, and disclose the cause of all your sorrows, while kind Mr.
Piscator extracts it.



PISCATOR. Well hooked! Indeed, scholar, it was well done of you. But the
heavens are becoming overcast; it threatens storm. Would it not be wise to
set out on our return?



DISCIPULA. Oh no, no! I can't think of going yet? 'Wise!' It seems to me
that it would be very foolish, while the lake contains so many more fish as
good as any that we have already caught.



PISCATOR. You do not expect to take them all?



DISCIPULA. All in this place; what should hinder?



PISCATOR. They will not bite for ever in the same place. They are a cunning
animal, and get frightened.



DISCIPULA. Then let us remove to another spot.



PISCATOR. That we might do, if there were time; but the sun is entirely
hidden by clouds, and is near his going down. We shall presently have a
thunder-storm. And then a stiff breeze from the south, which will waft us
speedily toward our landing place; had we not better begin to think of
leaving?



DISCIPULA. Wait till I catch one fish more; I had a nibble just then.



PISCATOR. You should handle your rod more gently. The wind blows up fresher
and fresher; it will be dark as pitch too, when night fairly comes on. Shall
we not spread our sails, and speed merrily homeward?



DISCIPULA. Well, as you will, master; though really I don't see any occasion
for all this hurry. Look at that fish! He rose almost to the surface after
my hook, and yet wouldn't take it. Oh, my poor fly! my poor bait! See it,
master! All faded and worn and torn, no painting or patching can renew its
comeliness! And there sticks out the hook, plain to view; a blind fish might
see it! Oh, my poor fly, that couldn't conceal the hook any longer! Mr.
Piscator, lend me your knife, while I cut the bait from the line, rags,
paint, iron and all, and throw it back into the water, thus. Now then,
little fish! silly fish! come all of you, and see what has befooled you!
What some of your tribe have swallowed because they thought it was good, and
some because they were careless, and others because they were hungry and
must have something! What many of ye have taken in, and more have nibbled
at, and all have gazed at, and admired and longed for! Oh, rare sport have
ye made me, foolish things! And longer would I have played with you, but the
evening comes on, and I must bid you a happy farewell. So we are under way
again, are we?



PISCATOR. We are again under way; and I have hope of reaching home before
yonder cloud comes over us. And trust me, when it does come, it will bring
more wind with it.



DISCIPULA. Once more on the open bosom of the lake! How the little black
angry waves dance up one after another, and roll past us toward the northern
shore. And see that dim hill at the other extremity of the pond, how
gigantic and broken it looks. Oh, Mr. Piscator, let's go and see it! let's
go and see it! And those high perpendicular rocks, that stand out so boldly.
Yes, yes, put up the helm! we'll go and see how they look in the twilight.



PISCATOR. But my dear child, it will take an hour and a half longer to go
round by the rocks, and before that time, I fear the storm will increase.



DISCIPULA. Oh, never fear the storm. I'll risk it! And when we get up there,
we can take a short cut across to our port; so put up the helm!--good Mr.
Piscator, kind Mr. Piscator! do let us run up to the hill! I can assure you
there is no danger.



PISCATOR. I cannot well deny any thing that you ask of me; but much I doubt,
Mr. ----



DISCIPULA. Nay, nay, doubt nothing. We shall get home safe, trust me for
that. And that cloud, that you are so fearful of, is not coming over us, at
all; it is coming down on the other shore of the lake. Please, Mr. Pilot, to
keep in a little nearer the land, or we shall pass the rocks so far out,
that we shall not be able to see them with distinctness.



PISCATOR. A wilful woman must even have her own way. My child! you will
catch your death with cold, to take off your bonnet so!



DISCIPULA. I'm not afraid of it; I want to feel the air.



PISCATOR. And where are you going now?



DISCIPULA. Going to sit down in the bow of the boat. This view is much
finer! Oh, this is grand!



PISCATOR. But, good scholar! good scholar! you will certainly fall out
there! I believe you are crazy, you look so wild!



DISCIPULA. How the boat pitches over the little waves! And, Mr. Piscator,
direct the boat toward the shore, so as to make it rock more. The heavens
are all grey, and the waters are all black, and the wind is high and wild in
its sport like an imprisoned bird let loose. Oh master, spread the other
sail, and see if we can't fly faster! Here are the rocks so grim; but it is
growing dark, and I can only just make them out. Why, Mr. Piscator, you are
not going near enough! Run close in under them!



PISCATOR. I shall say to you plainly, what you ask is impossible. It would
be running an unwarrantable hazard; as indeed coming up here at all was
unwarrantable.



DISCIPULA. At least then, good master, keep along up at this distance, if
that pleases you best; for there is a bluff just ahead, which projects
farther out than the others, and we shall pass close by it.



PISCATOR. It is high time that we commenced our return in good earnest. And
therefore, scholar, for I must remind you that you are my scholar till I see
you safe ashore; therefore, if you please, you may stand by the sail to
tack.



DISCIPULA. But just look once, how boldly and sternly it lifts up its calm
front out of the boiling waters!



PISCATOR. It is without doubt, very fine; but it is impossible to hold on a
foot farther. So if you will stand by the sail----



DISCIPULA. I wish I had a boat of my own to sail out here alone in and go
where I choose! Well, what shall I do? how shall I go to work? Oh, Mr.
Piscator! honest Mr. Piscator! let me hold the helm while you take care of
the sails.



PISCATOR. Willingly, if your hand is strong enough. Try it; shall you be
able to hold it as it is?



DISCIPULA. With the greatest ease. Now then, are you ready? What are you
letting down the sail for? That three-cornered rag from the bow-sprit wont
be enough!



PISCATOR. It would be unsafe to set the main-sail, and I think with this
breeze the fore-stay-sail will drive us sufficiently fast.



DISCIPULA. Well, suit yourself. Now are you ready?



PISCATOR. Ready, certainly, when I take the helm. But what are you doing? If
you undertake to let the skiff fall off before the wind you will upset us,
as sure as----



DISCIPULA. Just see if I do. Let me hold the helm. Oh yes, let me!



PISCATOR. But scholar! good scholar! dear scholar!



DISCIPULA. No, no, I wont give it up! you can't have it! Honest Mr.
Piscator, let me steer the boat, only a little way! Oh, but I will; and
there is no use in your trying to prevent me. See there now, haven't we come
round to our course in good style?



PISCATOR. A taste of power to those who are unaccustomed to it is always
dangerous, and I blame myself for permitting you to usurp the post of pilot.
Though, as you seem determined to maintain it, I cannot choose but to sit
down here quietly, and trust our lives to your skill. My life indeed! But
yours? Seriously now, my fair young lady, would it not be wiser----



DISCIPULA. Seriously now, my careful master, I don't think it would. Why,
what would you have? Are we not skimming over the waves like a sea-bird
free? And see those two birds, how they dash by us, and wheel round over us,
and breast the gale! Oh master! wouldn't you like to be a sea-bird, and
swing sideways, with your face to the wind that almost took your breath
away, swing down, down, glance against the water, then on the other side,
swing up, up? And wouldn't it be sweet too to struggle your way up through
the storm, high over that cloud yonder, with the thunder on its inside and
the lightning on its out--then fold your wings, close your eyes, and fall
calmly down on to its dark, soft, bosom? Oh, wouldn't it be sweet?



PISCATOR. My dear scholar, our landing place lies here, toward the
north-east, and you are running directly north.



DISCIPULA. Don't be under any apprehensions; I am only going to run out half
a mile farther, that we may get before the wind, and then we'll scud
straight toward home. And beside, we rock more, going in this direction. I
wish it would blow harder, and make more swell! You know now, Mr. Piscator,
how a wild swan feels when he sits on the water and is buoyed up on the
heaving wave, and in a breath sinks into the black abyss. If I were a wild
swan I would go to sleep and let the winds blow and the waters heave! How
the boat careens over and plunges down when the blast whistles against the
masts! Drive on! Drive on! my light gallant bark! Oh, my master! shall I
sing you a song? a little song of the sea? a pirate song?



PISCATOR. You look at this present moment as if you might sing a pirate
song, or be a pirate yourself. I observe that since you have taken off your
bonnet, the wind has somewhat disarranged your hair.



DISCIPULA. Wouldn't you like to be a pirate, though? I would; and roam over
the ocean at my own free will; and through the storm and spray, and
lightning-glances of the wild midnight, dash on my fleeing victim like the
eagle on his prey! All hands on deck to get on more sail! Stand by to unfurl
the main-sail to the tempest!



PISCATOR. Will it please you, my fair pilot, to inform me whither you are
taking us?



DISCIPULA. I am going to run into that cloud yonder; the one before us, with
the thunder on its inside and the lightning on its out.



PISCATOR. What you call a cloud appears to me to be a hill, that rises a few
rods back from the shore.



DISCIPULA. Oh, it's a cloud--a cloud! And there is a star that glimmers
through it.



PISCATOR. I see nothing but the twinkling of a taper, from the window of
some dwelling.



DISCIPULA. I tell you it's a star--a star! The cloud has settled down into
the water like a mountain; and through its base penetrates a tunnel, through
which the ray of that star comes--a long, straight cavern, arched overhead
and on either side by wreathed and rolling pillars of smoke. I'll put up the
helm and run into it! Bear up! bear up! bear stoutly up, my brave, bold
bark! and plunge forward like the horse into the smoke of battle, through
this path to the subterranean abodes!



PISCATOR. Let me take the tiller! Let it go! Put it around quick then; you
are running on the beach!



DISCIPULA. Why don't you see we are just entering the dark mouth of the
tunnel? We shall soon be into it.



PISCATOR. Hark! here it comes! Now hold hard, for there we are, grounded and
staved!



DISCIPULA. Tartarian rocks and whirlpools!



PISCATOR. Quick! ashore! The boat is going to pieces!



DISCIPULA. Ha! ha! ha! Was it well done, my master? was it well done?



PISCATOR. It _was_ well done, you little water-witch!

__________________________________________________ ________

End, A PISCATORIAL ECLOGUE



*From: The Knickerbocker, or New-York Monthly Magazine, May 1844
Volume 23, Number 5



Wolfgang

This work is in the public domain. To the best of my knowledge, its
inclusion here violates no U.S. or other copyright laws.