The Diver (translated) Friedrich Schiller

"My knights and my squires! come, who will dare
To dive for this golden cup,
Down that steep abyss, when I hurl it there,
In its pitchy mouth 'twill be soon gulped up;
Who back shall return with this goblet thrown,
Shall win the prize - he shall make it his own."

The monarch spoke, and hurl'd from the steep,
Bare and bluff, that towering up,
Hung out far above the unending deep,
To the howling Charybdis the cup;
"Who so bold of heart, I question again,
To cleave the far depths of that yawning main?"

And the knights and the squires around that stood,
In speechless panic look'd on,
Gazed from above on the raging flood,
But the goblet to win dared never a one;
And once more asked the king, "Of heart so stout,
Who will venture to plunge in that water-spout?"

And terror-struck all, as erst did stand,
Till a stripling, with noble pride,
Stept forth where the squires formed a wav'ring band,
Ungirds his belt, throws his doublet aside,
And dames, knights, and squires, bewildered, gaze
On that desperate youth, in breathless amaze.