Then a fancy came, for my future fame,
To tell of their deathless doom,
So I sent the ship in its ceaseless trip,
A phantom amid the gloom;
And the story's spread of the restless dead—
They call it the ship of hell—
But I held it fast, when the others passed
Away to the great canal.
For the Dutchman said that, alive or dead,
He'd conquer amidst the storm,
And I've heard them tell, in the depths of hell,
Of spectres that then were born;
They with me agreed he should ne'er be freed
Till proving his reckless vow;
And he's sailing yet, with his royals set.
In anguish I see him now.
If he knew the way of the ships to-day,
From Suez they mock me still,
If he knew the passage that men have made
His boast he could e'en fulfill.
If he knew his vow could be proven now
How gladly he'd say farewell,
But he'll never know that he's free to go
By way of the Great Canal.
THE RHYME OF THE ROLLING STONE
"The stone that rolleth ne'er shall find
The moss, no substance make,"
Was written by the prophet old,
Who words of wisdom spake;
But, shadowed 'midst its shady bed,
The stone of mossy store
Is useless for the work of man,
And rotten to the core.
The moss the hoard, and man the stone—
Methinks the semblance good,
And rolling stones shall find no moss,
Is wisdom understood;
But where the voice of Empire calls,
The moss is parched and dry,
And we are rolling on our way
Beneath a burning sky.
'Twas planned and modelled from the first,
That we should pioneer,
That we should know the hunger, and
The desert's nameless fear;
And from the East unto the West,
You find the rolling stone
Is playing still a useful part
For you, who stay at home.
You'll find us where, in purple hue,
The shadows slant the sand,
As rivetters of Empire, we're
The fellows you have damned;
You'll find us where the Islam priest
Is chanting at the dawn,
Or throwing out the challenge, on
A crystal Arctic morn.
You'll find us running surveys on
Creation's ragged end,
Or camping in the desert, where
The past and future blend;
We're busy building railways on
The map's deserted spot,
Or staking out an empire in
The land that God forgot.
We haven't failed, tho' p'raps we're not
As steady as the rest,
But still we play the game that's set
The player's skill to test;
We often curse the deal that made
Us wand'rers in the land,
But not a man who's known the game
Would ever change his hand.