Prefatory Note

This poem received the nineteenth award of the prize offered byProfessor Albert Stanburrough Cook to Yale University for the bestunpublished verse, the Committee of Award consisting of Professors C. F.Tucker Brooke, of Yale University, Robert Frost, of Amherst College, andCharles M. Gayley, of the University of California.

"Oh yes, I went over to Edmonstoun the other day and sawJohnny, mooning around as usual! He will never make hisway."--Letter of George Keats, 18--

Night falls; the great jars glow against the dark,Dark green, dusk red, and, like a coiling snake,Writhing eternally in smoky gyres,Great ropes of gorgeous vapor twist and turnWithin them. So the Eastern fishermanSaw the swart genie rise when the lead seal,Scribbled with charms, was lifted from the jar;And -- well, how went the tale? Like this, like this?...

No herbage broke the barren flats of land,No winds dared loiter within smiling trees,Nor were there any brooks on either hand,Only the dry, bright sand,Naked and golden, lay before the seas.

One boat toiled noiselessly along the deep,The thirsty ripples dying silentlyUpon its track. Far out the brown nets sweep,And night begins to creepAcross the intolerable mirror of the sea.

Twice the nets rise, a-trail with sea-plants brown,Distorted shells, and rocks green-mossed with slime,Nought else. The fisher, sick at heart, kneels down;"Prayer may appease God's frown,"He thinks, then, kneeling, casts for the third time.

And lo! an earthen jar, bound round with brass,Lies tangled in the cordage of his net.About the bright waves gleam like shattered glass,And where the sea's rim wasThe sun dips, flat and red, about to set.

The prow grates on the beach. The fishermanStoops, tearing at the cords that bind the seal.Shall pearls roll out, lustrous and white and wan?Lapis? carnelian?Unheard-of stones that make the sick mind reel

With wonder of their beauty? Rubies, then?Green emeralds, glittering like the eyes of beasts?Poisonous opals, good to madden men?Gold bezants, ten and ten?Hard, regal diamonds, like kingly feasts?

He tugged; the seal gave way. A little smokeCurled like a feather in the darkening sky.A blinding gush of fire burst, flamed, and broke.A voice like a wind spoke.Armored with light, and turbaned terribly,

A genie tramped the round earth underfoot;His head sought out the stars, his cupped right handMade half the sky one darkness. He was mute.The sun, a ripened fruit,Drooped lower. Scarlet eddied o'er the sand.

The genie spoke: "O miserable one!Thy prize awaits thee; come, and hug it close!A noble crown thy draggled nets have wonFor this that thou hast done.Blessed are fools! A gift remains for those!"

His hand sought out his sword, and lightnings flaredAcross the sky in one great bloom of fire.Poised like a toppling mountain, it hung bared;Suns that were jewels glaredAlong its hilt. The air burnt like a pyre.

Once more the genie spoke: "Something I oweTo thee, thou fool, thou fool. Come, canst thou sing?Yea? Sing then; if thy song be brave, then goFree and released -- or no!Find first some task, some overmastering thingI cannot do, and find it speedily,For if thou dost not thou shalt surely die!"

The sword whirled back. The fisherman uprose,And if at first his voice was weak with fearAnd his limbs trembled, it was but a doze,And at the high song's closeHe stood up straight. His voice rang loud and clear.