Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

Bliss Carman, et al., eds. The World’s Best Poetry. 1904.

Poems of Tragedy: XIII. America

Ramon

Bret Harte (1836–1902)

DRUNK and senseless in his place,

Prone and sprawling on his face,

More like brute than any man

Alive or dead,—

By his great pump out of gear,

Lay the peon engineer,

Waking only just to hear,

Overhead,

Angry tones that called his name,

Oaths and cries of bitter blame,—

Woke to hear all this, and waking, turned and fled!

“To the man who ’ll bring to me,”

Cried Intendant Harry Lee,—

Harry Lee, the English foreman of the mine,—

“Bring the sot alive or dead,

I will give to him,” he said,

“Fifteen hundred pesos down,

Just to set the rascal’s crown

Underneath this heel of mine:

Since but death

Deserves the man whose deed,

Be it vice or want of heed,

Stops the pumps that give us breath,—

Stops the pumps that suck the death

From the poisoned lower level of the mine!”

No one answered, for a cry

From the shaft rose up on high;

And shuffling, scrambling, tumbling from below,

Came the miners each, the bolder

Mounting on the weaker’s shoulder,

Grappling, clinging to their hold or

Letting go,

As the weaker gasped and fell

From the ladder to the well,—

To the poisoned pit of hell

Down below!

“To the man who sets them free,”

Cried the foreman, Harry Lee,—

Harry Lee, the English foreman of the mine,—

“Brings them out and sets them free,

I will give that man,” said he,

“Twice that sum, who with a rope

Face to face with death shall cope:

Let him come who dares to hope!”

“Hold your peace!” some one replied,

Standing by the foreman’s side;

“There has one already gone, whoe’er he be!”

Then they held their breath with awe,

Pulling on the rope, and saw

Fainting figures reappear,

On the black ropes swinging clear,

Fastened by some skilful hand from below;

Till a score the level gained,

And but one alone remained,—

He the hero and the last,

He whose skilful hand made fast

The long line that brought them back to hope and cheer!

Haggard, gasping, down dropped he

At the feet of Harry Lee,—

Harry Lee, the English foreman of the mine;

“I have come,” he gasped, “to claim

Both rewards, Señor,—my name

Is Ramon!

I ’m the drunken engineer,—

I ’m the coward, Señor—” Here

He fell over, by that sign

Dead as stone!