By the sad waste's dismal monsters surrounded!

"Thus thought I, and shivered. Then a something crept near
Upon legs with a hundred joints!
It snaps at me suddenly: frantic with fear
I lost my grasp of the coral points:
Away the whirl in its raging tore me--
But it was my salvation, and upward bore me!"

The king at the tale is filled with amaze:--
"The beaker, well won, is thine;
And this ring I will give thee too," he says,
"Precious with gems that are more than fine,
If thou dare it yet once, and bring me the story
Of what's in the sea's lowest repertory."

His daughter she hears him with tender dismay,
And with sweet words suasive doth plead:
"Father, enough of this cruel play!
For you he has done an unheard-of deed!
If you may not master your heart's desire,
'Tis the knights' turn now to shame the squire!"

The king sudden snatches and hurls the cup
Into the swirling pool:--
"If thou bring me once more that beaker up,
Thou art best of my knights, the most worshipful!
And this very day to thy home thou shalt lead her
Who stands there--for thee such a pitiful pleader."