| |
| SHALL I desist, twice baffled? Once by land, | |
| And once by sea, I fought and strove with storms, | |
| All shades of danger, tides, and weary calms; | |
| Head-currents, cold and famine, savage beasts, | |
| And men more savage; all the while my face | 5 |
| Looked northward toward the pole; if mortal strength | |
| Could have sustained me, I had never turned | |
| Till I had seen the star which never sets | |
| Freeze in the Arctic zenith. That I failed | |
| To solve the mysteries of the ice-bound world, | 10 |
| Was not because I faltered in the quest. | |
| Witness those pathless forests which conceal | |
| The bones of perished comrades, that long march, | |
| Blood-tracked o’er flint and snow, and one dread night | |
| By Athabasca, when a cherished life | 15 |
| Flowed to give life to others. This, and worse, | |
| I suffered—let it pass—it has not tamed | |
| My spirit nor the faith which was my strength. | |
| Despite of waning years, despite the world | |
| Which doubts, the few who dare, I purpose now— | 20 |
| A purpose long and thoughtfully resolved, | |
| Through all its grounds of reasonable hope— | |
| To seek beyond the ice which guards the Pole | |
| A sea of open water; for I hold, | |
| Not without proofs, that such a sea exists, | 25 |
| And may be reached, though since this earth was made | |
| No keel hath ploughed it, and to mortal ear | |
| No wind hath told its secrets…. With this tide | |
| I sail; if all be well, this very moon | |
| Shall see my ship beyond the southern cape | 30 |
| Of Greenland, and far up the bay through which, | |
| With diamond spire and gorgeous pinnacle, | |
| The fleets of winter pass to warmer seas. | |
| Whether, my hardy shipmates! we shall reach | |
| Our bourn, and come with tales of wonder back, | 35 |
| Or whether we shall lose the precious time, | |
| Locked in thick ice, or whether some strange fate | |
| Shall end us all, I know not; but I know | |
| A lofty hope, if earnestly pursued, | |
| Is its own crown, and never in this life | 40 |
| Is labor wholly fruitless. In this faith | |
| I shall not count the chances,—sure that all | |
| A prudent foresight asks we shall not want, | |
| And all that bold and patient hearts can do | |
| Ye will not leave undone. The rest is God’s! | 45 |
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