Page:Themes and variations (IA themesvariations00wils).pdf/47
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
The North-East Passage.
35
THE NORTH-EAST PASSAGE.
Nordenskiold—1878-80.
Well done, old Norseman! When the polar star
Beckoned thee to her ice-encircled home,
Thow didst not wait; but, lifting sail and spar,
Flew with the summer wind across the foam.
—The breakers’ boom pursues thee—heed it not!
They sweep across thy prow—’tis but in play.
Heed not that in some wave-lamented spot
The bones of many a good ship waste away,
From out the mist there sounds a ghostly call—
Stop all our ears! ’Tis but the avalanche fall!
Beckoned thee to her ice-encircled home,
Thow didst not wait; but, lifting sail and spar,
Flew with the summer wind across the foam.
—The breakers’ boom pursues thee—heed it not!
They sweep across thy prow—’tis but in play.
Heed not that in some wave-lamented spot
The bones of many a good ship waste away,
From out the mist there sounds a ghostly call—
Stop all our ears! ’Tis but the avalanche fall!
And on they steamed, passed the great Northern Cape,
By all his chiding thunders undismayed,
Where fits of sunshine light his frowning shape;
And saw grey Norway’s cliffs behind them fade.
On—like the Indian hunter tracking game;
On—past the lonely Nova-Zemblian coast;
Past wild spray-sheeted capes without a name,
And low Siberian hills, a dreary host.
On, past the never-ending Asian shore,
No turning now! Their hand is on the door.
By all his chiding thunders undismayed,
Where fits of sunshine light his frowning shape;
And saw grey Norway’s cliffs behind them fade.
On—like the Indian hunter tracking game;
On—past the lonely Nova-Zemblian coast;
Past wild spray-sheeted capes without a name,
And low Siberian hills, a dreary host.
On, past the never-ending Asian shore,
No turning now! Their hand is on the door.