A MIDSUMMER DAY-DREAM.
[The Jackson-Harmsworth Expedition has started.]
Punch sleeps. The cheerful Sage has heard
That Jackson is about to start.
His sympathies are warmly stirred,
He hath the Windward's weal at heart.
He dreams: That block of dinner ice
Stirs arctic fancies in his breast.
He travels Pole-ward in a trice;
He joins the Jackson-Harmsworth quest.
"All precious things, discovered late
To those that seek them issue forth."—
To find her may be Jackson's fate,
That Sleeping Beauty of the North!
She lieth in her icy cave
As still as sleep, as white as death.
Her look might stagger the most brave,
And make the stoutest hold his breath.
"The bodies and the bones of those
That strove in other days to pass,"
Are scattered o'er the spreading snows,
Are bleached about that sea of glass.
He gazes on the silent dead:
"They perished in their daring deeds."
The proverb flashes through his head,
"The many fail: the one succeeds."
Punch wakes: lo! it is but a dream—
A vision of the Frozen Sea;
Yet may be it may hold a gleam
Of prophecy. So mote it be!
To Jackson and to Harmsworth too
He brims a well-earnt bumper. "Skoal!"
Here's health to them and their brave crew!
And safe return from well-won goal!