XXI.
Pursuer and pursued! who knows
The why he left the breezy pine,
The fragrant tamarack and vine,
Red rose and precious yellow rose!
Nay, Vasques held the vantage ground
Above him by the wooded steep,
And right nor left no passage lay,
And there was left him but that way,—
The way through blood, or to the deep
And lonesome deserts far profound,
That know not sight of man, or sound.
Hot Vasques stood upon the rim,
High, bold, and fierce with crag and spire.
He saw a black hawk wheel, retire,
And shun that desert wide a-wing,
But saw no other living thing.
High in the full sun's gold and flame
He halting and half waiting came
And stood below the belt of wood,
Then moved along the broken hill
And looked below.
And long he stood
With lips set firm and brow a-frown,
And warring with his iron will.
He mark'd the black line winding down
As if into the doors of death.
And as he gazed a breath arose
As from his far-retreating foes,
So hot it almost took his breath.
His black eye flashed an angry fire,
He stood upon the mountain brow,
With lifted arm like oaken bough;
The hot pursuer halting stood
Irresolute, in nettled ire;
Then look'd against the cooling wood,
Then strode he sullen to and fro,
Then turned and long he gazed below.
The sands flash'd back like fields of snow,
Like far blown seas that flood and flow.
The while the rounded sky rose higher,
And cleaving through the upper space,
The flush'd sun settled to his place,
Like some far hemisphere of fire.
And yet again he gazed. And now,
Far off and faint, he saw or guess'd
He saw, beyond the sands a-west,
A dim and distant lifting beach
That daring men might dare and reach:
Dim shapes of toppled peaks with pine,
And water'd foot-hills dark like wine,
And fruits on many a bended bough.
The leader turn'd and shook his head.
"And shall we turn aside," he said,
"Or dare this hell?" The men stood still
As leaning on his sterner will.
And then he stopp'd and turn'd again,
And held his broad hand to his brow,
And looked intent and eagerly.
The far white levels of the plain
Flash'd back like billows.
Even now
He saw rise up remote, 'mid sea,
'Mid space, 'mid wastes, 'mid nothingness,
A ship becalm'd as in distress.
The dim sign pass'd as suddenly,
Thrown over some still middle sea,
And then his eager eyes grew dazed,—
He brought his two hands to his face.
Again he raised his head, and gazed
With flashing eyes and visage fierce
Far out, and resolute to pierce
The far, far, faint receding reach
Of space and touch its farther beach.
He saw but space, unbounded space;
Eternal space and nothingness.
Then all wax'd anger'd as they gazed
Far out upon the shoreless land,
And clench'd their doubled hands and raised
Their long bare arms, but utter'd not.
At last one started from the band,
His bosom heaved as billows heave,
Great heaving bosom, broad and brown:
He raised his arm, push'd up his sleeve,
Push'd bare his arm, strode up and down,
With hat pushed back, and flushed and hot,
And shot sharp oaths like cannon shot.
Again the man stood still, again
He strode the height like hoary storm,
Then shook his fists, and then his form
Did writhe as if it writhed with pain.
And yet again his face was raised,
And yet again he gazed and gazed,
Above his fading, failing foe,
With gather'd brow and visage fierce,
As if his soul would part or pierce
The awful depths that lay below.
He had as well look'd on that sea
That keeps Samoa's coral isles
Amid ten thousand watery miles,
Bound round by realms of nothingness,
In love with their own loneliness.
He saw but space, unbounded space,
And brought his brown hands to his face.
There roll'd away to left, to right,
Unbroken walls as black as night,
And back of these there distant rose
Steep cones of everlasting snows.
At last he was resolved, his form
Seem'd like a pine blown rampt with storm.
He mounted, clutch'd his reins, and then
Turn'd sharp and savage to his men;
And silent then led down the way
To night that knows not night nor day.