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