| |
| WITH three great snorts of strength, | |
| Stretching my mighty length, | |
| Like some long dragon stirring in his sleep, | |
| Out from the glare of gas | |
| Into the night I pass, | 5 |
| And plunge alone into the silence deep. | |
| |
| Little I know or care | |
| What be the load I bear, | |
| Why thus compell’d, I seek not to divine; | |
| At man’s command I stir, | 10 |
| I, his stern messenger! | |
| Does he his duty well as I do mine? | |
| |
| Straight on my silent road, | |
| Flank’d by no man’s abode, | |
| No foe I parley with, no friend I greet; | 15 |
| On like a bolt I fly | |
| Under the starry sky, | |
| Scorning the current of the sluggish street. | |
| |
| Onward from South to North, | |
| Onward from Thames to Forth, | 20 |
| On—like a comet—on, unceasingly; | |
| Faster and faster yet | |
| On—where far boughs of jet | |
| Stretch their wild woof against the pearly sky. | |
| |
| Faster and faster still— | 25 |
| Dive I through rock and hill, | |
| Starting the echoes with my shrill alarms; | |
| Swiftly I curve and bend; | |
| While, like an eager friend, | |
| The distance runs to clasp me in its arms. | 30 |
| |
| Ne’er from my path I swerve | |
| Rattling around a curve | |
| Not vainly trusting to my trusty bars; | |
| On through the hollow night, | |
| While, or to left or right, | 35 |
| A city glistens like a clump of stars. | |
| |
| On through the night I steer; | |
| Never a sound I hear | |
| Save the strong beating of my steady stroke— | |
| Save when the circling owl | 40 |
| Hoots, or the screaming fowl | |
| Rise from the marshes like a sudden smoke. | |
| |
| Now o’er a gulf I go: | |
| Dark is the depth below, | |
| Smites the slant beam the shoulder of the height— | 45 |
| Now through a lane of trees— | |
| Past sleeping villages, | |
| Their white walls whiter in the silver light. | |
| |
| Be the night foul or fair, | |
| Little I reck or care, | 50 |
| Bandy with storms, and with the tempests jest; | |
| Little I care or know | |
| What winds may rage or blow, | |
| But charge the whirlwind with a dauntless breast. | |
| |
| Now through the level plain, | 55 |
| While, like a mighty mane, | |
| Stretches my endless breath in cloudy miles; | |
| Now o’er a dull lagoon, | |
| While the broad beamèd moon | |
| Lights up its sadness into sickly smiles. | 60 |
| |
| O, ’tis a race sublime! | |
| I, neck and neck with Time,— | |
| I, with my thews of iron and heart of fire,— | |
| Run without pause for breath, | |
| While all the earth beneath | 65 |
| Shakes with the shocks of my tremendous ire! | |
| |
| On—till the race be won; | |
| On—till the coming sun | |
| Blinds moon and stars with his excessive light; | |
| On—till the earth be green, | 70 |
| And the first lark be seen | |
| Shaking away with songs the dews of night. | |
| |
| Sudden my speed I slack— | |
| Sudden all force I lack— | |
| Without a struggle yield I up my breath; | 75 |
| Numb’d are my thews of steel, | |
| Wearily rolls each wheel, | |
| My heart cools slowly to the sleep of death. | |
| |
| Why for so brief a length | |
| Dower’d with such mighty strength? | 80 |
| Man is my God—I seek not to divine: | |
| At his command I stir, | |
| I, his stern messenger;— | |
| Does he his duty well as I do mine? | |
| |
