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*The Rime of the Ancient Otter - scorycory - 06-11-2020 PART I It is an ancient Otter, And he stoppeth one of three. 'By thy long grey beard and glittering eye, Now wherefore stopp'st thou me? The Yeti's doors are opened wide, And I am next of kin; The fans are met, the feast is set: May'st hear the merry din.' He holds him with his furry paw, 'There was a Trophy,' quoth he. 'Hold off! unpaw me, grey-furred loon!' Eftsoons his paw dropt he. He holds him with his glittering eye— The Ultimus-Fan stood still, And listens like a three years' child: The Otter hath his will. The Ultimus-fan sat on a stone: He cannot choose but hear; And thus spake on that ancient mammal, The bright-eyed Otter. 'The Trophy was cheered, the field was cleared, Merrily did we drop Below the stands, below the uprights, Below the pressbox top. The Sun came up upon the left, Out of the sea came he! And he shone bright, and on the right Went down into the sea. Higher and higher every day, Till over the upright at noon—' The Ultimus-Fan here beat his breast, For he heard the loud whistle. The Yeti hath paced into the hall, Red as a rose is she; Nodding their heads before her goes The merry champs to be. The Ultimus-Fan he beat his breast, Yet he cannot choose but hear; And thus spake on that ancient mammal, The bright-eyed Otter. And now the SIM-ENGINE came, and he Was tyrannous and strong: He struck with his randomness and jank, And chased us back along. With nonsense plays and broken script, As he pursued with three and out Still treads the shadow of his foe, And forward returns the ball, The sim drove fast, loud roared the blast, And comeback aye we fled. And now there came both run and throw, And it grew wondrous cold: And Yeti, upright-high, came shambling by, As brown as dirt below. And through the stands these hairy trees Did send a dismal stench: Nor shapes of men nor ball we ken— The stench ran bench to bench. The Yeti was here, the Yeti was there, The Yeti was all around: It cracked and growled, and roared and howled, Like noises in a swound! At length did cross a referee, Thorough the stench it came; As if it had been a NSFL soul, We hailed it in HO's name. It ate the food it ne'er had eat, And round the field it flew. The Yeti did split with a thunder-fit; The quarterback steered us through! And a good series sprung up behind; The Referee did follow, And every day, for work or play, Came to the otter's hollo! In holding or offsides, too many men off the bench, It perched for series nine; Whiles all the night, through Yeti sown stench, Glimmered the Ultimus Trophy.' 'God save thee, ancient Otter! From the plays, that plague thee thus!— Why look'st thou so?'—With my cross-bow I shot the Referee. PART II The Sun now rose upon the right: Out of the sea came he, Still hid in mist, and on the left Went down into the sea. And the good series still blew behind, But no tainted referee did follow, Nor any day for work or play Came to the Otter's hollo! And I had done a hellish thing, And it would work 'em woe: For all averred, I had killed the ref That made the plays to go. Ah wretch! said they, the ref to slay, That made the plays to go! Nor dim nor red, like HO's own head, The glorious Sun uprist: Then all averred, I had killed the ref That brought the flags and chains. 'Twas right, said they, such refs to slay, That bring the flags and chains. The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew, The furrow followed free; We were the first that ever burst Into that silent sea. Down dropt the breeze, the flags dropt down, 'Twas sad as sad could be; And we did speak only to break The silence of the sea! All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the upright did stand, No bigger than the Moon. Play after Play, play after play, We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean. Odor, Odor, every where, And all the noses did shrink; Odor, odor, every where, Nor any clean air to drink. The very field did rot: O HO! That ever this should be! Yea, furry things did crawl with legs Upon the field to see. About, about, in reel and rout The death-fires danced at night; The field, like a witch's oils, Burnt green, and blue and white. And some in dreams assurèd were Of the Wraith that plagued us so; From far in the north he had followed us From the land of mist and snow. And every nose, through utter stench, Was shriveled up in clench; We could not speak, no more than if We had sought refuge on the bench. Ah! well a-day! what evil looks Had I from old and young! Instead of the whistle, the Referee About my neck was hung. PART III There passed a weary time. Each nose Was pinched, and glazed each eye. A weary time! a weary time! How glazed each weary eye, When looking westward, I beheld A something in the sky. At first it seemed a little speck, And then it seemed a mist; It moved and moved, and took at last A certain shape, I wist. A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist! And still it neared and neared: As if it dodged a victory, It plunged and tacked and veered. With scent unslaked, with nostrils baked, We could nor laugh nor wail; Through utter doubt all dumb we stood! I bit my arm, I sucked the blood, And cried, A drive! a drive! With scent unslaked, with nostrils baked, Agape they heard me call: Gramercy! they for joy did grin, And all at once their breath drew in. As they were breathing all. See! see! (I cried) she lacks no more! Hither to work us more; Without a breeze, without a tide, She steadies with upright score! The western stands were all a-flame. The day was well nigh done! Almost upon the western stands Rested the broad bright Sun; When that strange shape drove suddenly Betwixt us and the Sun. And straight the Sun was flecked with bars, (Head Office send us grace!) As if through a dungeon-grate he peered With broad and burning face. Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud) How fast she nears and nears! Is the the final that glance in the Sun, Like restless gossameres? Are those her ribs through which the Sun Did peer, as through a grate? And is Yeto all her crew? Is that a FINAL? and are there two? Is the trophy the Yeti's mate? Her lips were red, her looks were free, Her locks were brown as dirt: Her fur was as brown as decay, The Night-mare CHAMPION-YETI was she, Who thicks man's blood with cold. The furry shape alongside came, And the twain were casting dice; 'The game is done! I've won! I've won!' Quoth she, and whistles thrice. The Sun's rim dips; the stars rush out; At one stride comes the dark; With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea, Off shot the Wraith-bark. We listened and looked sideways up! Fear at my heart, as at a cup, My life-blood seemed to sip! The stars were dim, and thick the night, The General Manager's face by his lamp gleamed white; From the banner the dew did drip— Till clomb above the eastern bar The hornèd Moon, with one bright star Within the nether tip. One after one, by the star-dogged Moon, Too quick for groan or sigh, Each turned his face with a ghastly pang, And cursed me with his eye. Four times fifty living men, (And I heard nor sigh nor groan) With heavy thump, a lifeless lump, They dropped down one by one. The souls did from their bodies fly,— They fled to bliss or woe! And every soul, it passed me by, Like the whizz of my cross-bow! PART IV 'I fear thee, ancient Otter! I fear thy skinny paw! And thou art long, and lank, and brown, As is the ribbed sea-sand. I fear thee and thy glittering eye, And thy skinny bro, so brown.'— Fear not, fear not, thou Ultimus-Fan! This body dropt not down. Alone, alone, all, all alone, Alone on a wide wide sea! And never a saint took pity on My soul in agony. The many men, so beautiful! And they all lost did lie: And a thousand thousand furry things Lived on; and so did I. I looked upon the rotting field, And drew my eyes away; I looked upon the rotting bench, And there the lost men lay. I looked to heaven, and tried to pray; But or ever a prayer had gusht, A wicked whisper came, and made My heart as dry as dust. I closed my lids, and kept them close, And the balls like pulses beat; For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky Lay lost like a load on my weary eye, And the lost were at my feet. The cold sweat melted from their limbs, Nor rot nor reek did they: The look with which they looked on me Had never passed away. An orphan's curse would drag to hell A spirit from on high; But oh! more horrible than that Is the curse in a lost man's eye! Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse, And yet I could not die. The moving Moon went up the sky, And no where did abide: Softly she was going up, And a star or two beside— Her beams bemocked the sultry main, Like April hoar-frost spread; But where the championship's huge shadow lay, The charmèd water burnt alway A still and awful red. Beyond the shadow of the 'ship, I watched the Yeti: They moved in tracks of furry brown, And when they reared, the dingy dirt Fell off in clumpy flakes. Within the shadow of the 'ship I watched their rich attire: Red, glossy yellow, and velvet black, They coiled and swam; and every track Was a flash of golden fire. O happy living things! no tongue Their furry might declare: A spring of pain gushed from my heart, And I curseded them unaware: Sure my kind saint took pity on me, And I curseded them unaware. The self-same moment I could pray; And from my neck so free The Referee fell off, and sank Like lead into the sea. PART V Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing, Beloved from pole to pole! To Spec King the praise be given! He sent the gentle sleep from Heaven, That slid into my soul. The silly coolers on the bench, That had so long remained, I dreamt that they were filled with dew; And when I awoke, it rained. My lips were wet, my throat was cold, My garments all were dank; Sure I had drunken in my dreams, And still my body drank. I moved, and could not feel my limbs: I was so light—almost I thought that I had died in sleep, And was a blessed ghost. And soon I heard a roaring wind: It did not come anear; But with its sound it shook the field, That was so broke and sere. The upper air burst into life! And a hundred fire-flags sheen, To and fro they were hurried about! And to and fro, and in and out, The wan stars danced between. And the coming wind did roar more loud, And the flags did sigh like sedge, And the rain poured down from one black cloud; The Moon was at its edge. The thick black cloud was cleft, and still The Moon was at its side: Like waters shot from some high crag, The lightning fell with never a jag, A river steep and wide. The loud wind never reached the field, Yet now the field moved on! Beneath the lightning and the Moon The lost men gave a groan. They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose, Nor spake, nor moved their eyes; It had been strange, even in a dream, To have seen those lost men rise. The quarterback steered, the field moved on; Yet never a breeze up-blew; The otters all 'gan work the chains, Where they were wont to do; They raised their limbs like lifeless tools— We were a ghastly crew. The body of my brother's son Stood by me, knee to knee: The body and I pulled at one chain, But he said nought to me. 'I fear thee, ancient Otter!' Be calm, thou Ultimus-fan! 'Twas not those souls that fled in pain, Which to their corses came again, But a team of spirits blest: For when it dawned—they dropped their arms, And clustered round the coach; Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths, And from their bodies passed. Around, around, flew each sweet sound, Then darted to the Sun; Slowly the sounds came back again, Now mixed, now one by one. Sometimes a-dropping from the sky I heard the sky-lark sing; Sometimes all little birds that are, How they seemed to fill the sea and air With their sweet jargoning! And now 'twas like all instruments, Now like a lonely flute; And now it is an angel's song, That makes Head Office be mute. It ceased; yet still the team made on A pleasant noise till noon, A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune. Till noon we quietly moved on, Yet never a breeze did breathe: Slowly and smoothly went the team, Moved onward from beneath. Under the team six feet deep, From the land of mist and snow, The wraith slid: and it was he That made the team to go. The flags at noon left off their tune, And the team stood still also. The Sun, right up above the upright, Had fixed her to the field: But in a minute she 'gan stir, With a short uneasy motion— Backwards and forwards half her length With a short uneasy motion. Then like a pawing horse let go, She made a sudden bound: It flung the blood into my head, And I fell down in a swound. How long in that same fit I lay, I have not to declare; But ere my living life returned, I heard and in my soul discerned Two voices in the air. 'Is it he?' quoth one, 'Is this the otter? By him who died on the flee, With his cruel bow he laid full low The harmless referee. The wraith who bideth by himself In the land of mist and snow, He loved the ref that loved the otter Who shot him with his bow.' The other was a softer voice, As soft as honey-dew: Quoth he, 'The otter hath penance done, And penance more will do.' PART VI First Voice 'But tell me, tell me! speak again, Thy soft response renewing— What makes that team drive on so fast? What is the league doing?' Second Voice Still as a slave before his lord, The league hath no blast; His great bright eye most silently Up to the Moon is cast— If he may know which way to go; For she guides him smooth or grim. See, brother, see! how graciously She looketh down on him.' First Voice 'But why drives on that team so fast, Without a run or drive?' Second Voice 'The air is cut away before, And closes from behind. Fly, otter, fly! more high, more high! Or we shall be belated: For slow and slow that team will go, When the Otter's trance is abated.' I woke, and we were moving on As in a gentle weather: 'Twas night, calm night, the moon was high; The lost otters stood together. All stood together on the field, For a charnel-dungeon fitter: All fixed on me their stony eyes, That in the Moon did glitter. The pang, the curse, with which they died, Had never passed away: I could not draw my eyes from theirs, Nor turn them up to pray. And now this spell was snapt: once more I viewed the field green, And looked far forth, yet little saw Of what had else been seen— Like one, that on a lonesome road Doth walk in fear and dread, And having once turned round walks on, And turns no more his head; Because he knows, a frightful fiend Doth close behind him tread. But soon there breathed a wind on me, Nor sound nor motion made: Its path was not upon the sea, In ripple or in shade. It raised my fur, it fanned my cheek Like a meadow-gale of spring— It mingled strangely with my fears, Yet it felt like a welcoming. Swiftly, swiftly flew the team, Yet she moveded softly too: Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze— On me alone it blew. Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed The light-house top I see? Is this the hill? is this the kirk? Is this mine own countree? We drifted o'er the Orange County, And I with sobs did pray— O let me be awake, my God! Or let me sleep alway. The Orange County bay was clear as glass, So smoothly it was strewn! And on the bay the moonlight lay, And the shadow of the Moon. The rock shone bright, the kirk no less, That stands above the rock: The moonlight steeped in silentness The steady weathercock. And the bay was white with silent light, Till rising from the same, Full many shapes, that shadows were, In crimson colours came. A little distance from the prow Those crimson shadows were: I turned my eyes upon the deck— Oh, HO! what saw I there! Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat, And, by the holy rood! A Yeti all light, a Yeti-man, On every corse there stood. This Yeti-band, each waved his hand: It was a heavenly sight! They stood as signals to the land, Each one a lovely light; This Yeti-band, each waved his hand, No voice did they impart— No voice; but oh! the silence sank Like music on my heart. But soon I heard the dash of oars, I heard the Coach's cheer; My head was turned perforce away And I saw a boat appear. The Coach and the Coach's boy, I heard them coming fast: Dear Office in Head! it was a joy The lost men could not blast. I saw a third—I heard his voice: It is the Otter good! He singeth loud his godly hymns That he makes in the wood. He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away The Referee's blood. PART VII This Otter good lives in that wood Which slopes down to the sea. How loudly his sweet voice he rears! He loves to talk with otters That come from a far countree. He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve— He hath a cushion plump: It is the moss that wholly hides The rotted old oak-stump. The skiff-boat neared: I heard them talk, 'Why, this is strange, I trow! Where are those lights so many and fair, That signal made but now?' 'Strange, by my faith!' the Otter said— 'And they answered not our cheer! The planks looked warped! and see the banner, How thin they are and sere! I never saw aught like to them, Unless perchance it were Brown skeletons of leaves that lag My forest-brook along; When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow, And the owlet whoops to the wolf below, That eats the she-wolf's young.' 'Dear HO! it hath a fiendish look— (The Coach he made reply) I am a-feared'—'Push on, push on!' Said the Otter cheerily. The team came closer to the ship, But I nor spake nor stirred; The team came close beneath the ship, And straight a sound was heard. Under the water it rumbled on, Still louder and more dread: It reached the ship, it split the bay; The ship went down like lead. Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound, Which sky and ocean smote, Like one that hath been seven days drowned My body lay afloat; But swift as dreams, myself I found Within the coach's team. Upon the whirl, where sank the ship, The team spun round and round; And all was still, save that the hill Was telling of the sound. I moved my lips—the Coach he shrieked And fell down in a fit; The holy Otter raised his eyes, And prayed where he did sit. I took the oars: the Coach's boy, Who now doth crazy go, Laughed loud and long, and all the while His eyes went to and fro. 'Ha! ha!' quoth he, 'full plain I see, The Yeti knows how to row.' And now, all in my own countree, I stood on the firm land! The Otter stepped forth from the team, And scarcely he could stand. 'O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!' The Otter crossed his brow. 'Say quick,' quoth he, 'I bid thee say— What manner of otter art thou?' Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched With a woful agony, Which forced me to begin my tale; And then it left me free. Since then, at an uncertain hour, That agony returns: And till my ghastly tale is told, This heart within me burns. I pass, like night, from land to land; I have strange power of speech; That moment that his face I see, I know the man that must hear me: To him my tale I teach. What loud uproar bursts from that door! The championship-guests are there: But in the garden-bower the Yeti And Yeti fans singing are: And hark the little vesper bell, Which biddeth me to prayer! O Ultimus-Fan! this soul hath been Alone on a wide wide sea: So lonely 'twas, that HO himself Scarce seemèd there to be. O sweeter than the victory-feast, 'Tis sweeter far to me, To walk together to the kirk With a goodly company!— To walk together to the kirk, And all together pray, While each to his great Father bends, Old men, and babes, and loving friends And youths and maidens gay! Farewell, farewell! but this I tell To thee, thou Ultimus-Fan! He prayeth well, who loveth well Both man and bird and beast. He prayeth best, who loveth best All things both great and small; For the dear HO who loveth us, He made and loveth all. The Otter, whose eye is bright, Whose beard with age is hoar, Is gone: and now the Ultimus-fan Turned from the Yeti's door. He went like one that hath been stunned, And is of sense forlorn: A sadder and a wiser man, He rose the morrow morn. *The Rime of the Ancient Otter - jeffie43 - 06-12-2020 *The Rime of the Ancient Otter - DatSmolBoi - 06-12-2020 woah *The Rime of the Ancient Otter - siddhus - 06-12-2020 Beautiful *The Rime of the Ancient Otter - SchwarzNarr - 06-12-2020 This may be the greatest thing I have read recently. Bravo. *The Rime of the Ancient Otter - .Laser - 06-12-2020 holy mama that's amazing