Then his heart grew strong and he felt the earth
Grow iron beneath his feet,
And he drank the balmy airs of night
Like rose-blooms rare and sweet:
And his soul rose up as a welling brook,
His life or death to meet.
And he spake to that unknown enemy there,—
“By yon white stars I vow,
That be thou devil or angel or man,
Thou canst not conquer me now;
For I feel new lease of life and strength
In this sweat that beads my brow.”
They locked once more; the stars, it seemed
Went round in dances dim,
Where the great white watchers over each hill,
With the black night, seemed to swim;
But Jacob knew his enemy now,
Could nevermore conquer him.
Yea, still with grip of death they strove,
In iron might, until,
Planet by planet, the great stars dropped
Down over the westward hill:
And Jacob stood like one who stands
In the strength of a mighty will.
Then at that late, last midnight hour,
When the little birds rejoice,
And out of the lands of sleep life looms
With the rustle of day’s annoys,
That other spake as one who speaks
With a sad despairing voice,
And cried aloud, “I have met my fate,
Loosen, and let me go;
For I have striven with thee in vain,
Till my heart is water and woe.”
“Nay, nay,” cried Jacob, “we strive, we twain,
Till the mists of dawning blow.”
Then spake that other, “I hate thee not,
My spirit is spent, alas,
Thou art a very lion of men;
Release, and let me pass;
For thou hast my heart and sinews ground
As ocean grinds his grass.”
Then answered Jacob, “Nay, nay, thou liar,
This is the lock of death:
For thee or me it must be thus,
The will of my being saith;
Thou man or devil, I hold thee here
Unto thy latest breath;
“For I do feel in thee I hold
My life’s supremest hour:
I would as lief let all life slip
As thee from out my power,
Until I gaze on thy hid face,
And read my spirit’s dower.
“Yea, show thy face or who thou art,
Or, man or angel or fiend,
I rend thy being fold from fold,
And scatter thee to the wind.”
Then they twain rocked as passions rock,
When madness wrecks the mind.