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1898
THE STRENGTH of twice three thousand horse | |
| That seeks the single goal; | |
| The line that holds the rending course, | |
| The hate that swings the whole: | |
| The stripped hulls, slinking through the gloom, | 5 |
| At gaze and gone again— | |
| The Brides of Death that wait the groom— | |
| The Choosers of the Slain! | |
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| Offshore where sea and skyline blend | |
| In rain, the daylight dies; | 10 |
| The sullen, shouldering swells attend | |
| Night and our sacrifice. | |
| Adown the stricken capes no flare— | |
| No mark on spit or bar,— | |
| Girdled and desperate we dare | 15 |
| The blindfold game of war. | |
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| Nearer the up-flung beams that spell | |
| The council of our foes; | |
| Clearer the barking guns that tell | |
| Their scattered flank to close. | 20 |
| Sheer to the trap they crowd their way | |
| From ports for this unbarred. | |
| Quiet, and count our laden prey, | |
| The convoy and her guard! | |
| |
| On shoal with scarce a foot below, | 25 |
| Where rock and islet throng, | |
| Hidden and hushed we watch them throw | |
| Their anxious lights along. | |
| Not here, not here your danger lies— | |
| (Stare hard, O hooded eyne!) | 30 |
| Save where the dazed rock-pigeons rise | |
| The lit cliffs give no sign. | |
| |
| Therefore—to break the rest ye seek, | |
| The Narrow Seas to clear— | |
| Hark to the siren’s whimpering shriek— | 35 |
| The driven death is here! | |
| Look to your van a league away,— | |
| What midnight terror stays | |
| The bulk that checks against the spray | |
| Her crackling tops ablaze? | 40 |
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| Hit, and hard hit! The blow went home, | |
| The muffled, knocking stroke— | |
| The steam that overruns the foam— | |
| The foam that thins to smoke— | |
| The smoke that clokes the deep aboil— | 45 |
| The deep that chokes her throes | |
| Till, streaked with ash and sleeked with oil, | |
| The lukewarm whirlpools close! | |
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| A shadow down the sickened wave | |
| Long since her slayer fled: | 50 |
| But hear their chattering quick-fires rave | |
| Astern, abeam, ahead! | |
| Panic that shells the drifting spar— | |
| Loud waste with none to check— | |
| Mad fear that rakes a scornful star | 55 |
| Or sweeps a consort’s deck. | |
| |
| Now, while their silly smoke hangs thick, | |
| Now ere their wits they find, | |
| Lay in and lance them to the quick— | |
| Our gallied whales are blind! | 60 |
| Good luck to those that see the end, | |
| Good-bye to those that drown— | |
| For each his chance as chance shall send— | |
| And God for all! Shut down! | |
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| The strength of twice three thousand horse | 65 |
| That serve the one command; | |
| The hand that heaves the headlong force, | |
| The hate that backs the hand: | |
| The doom-bolt in the darkness freed, | |
| The mine that splits the main; | 70 |
| The white-hot wake, the ’wildering speed— | |
| The Choosers of the Slain! | |
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