 | The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") |  |
THE IRON-CLAD.
Mark the molten metal roaring, in a lava-torrent pouring,
From the outlet of the furnace to the sandy moulds below,
And the gates that seem infernal, opening on a fire eternal,
Where a thousand souls in anguish writhe and suffer in its glow;
See with faces hot and glowing, hither coming, thither going,
Into firelight, into darkness, toilers hurrying to and fro:
Those you see—a shallow gazing; nothing more before your eyes
Than the dense heat and the toilers; there your vision lives—and dies.
From the outlet of the furnace to the sandy moulds below,
And the gates that seem infernal, opening on a fire eternal,
Where a thousand souls in anguish writhe and suffer in its glow;
See with faces hot and glowing, hither coming, thither going,
Into firelight, into darkness, toilers hurrying to and fro:
Those you see—a shallow gazing; nothing more before your eyes
Than the dense heat and the toilers; there your vision lives—and dies.
These you see, and ends your seeing; but with me there spring to being
Sights of doing, sounds material, in the blue and orange blaze.
I behold the ships of war, the partly builded vessels swarthy,
With their naked ribs of metal, resting grimly on the ways;
Hear each half-built frigate give its sound of hammer-stroke on rivets,
Springing from the corded muscles of our modern Kuklopes,
Where the broad and busy ship-yards stretch along the river-side,
On the sloping banks of Schuylkill, on the Hudson, and the Clyde.
Sights of doing, sounds material, in the blue and orange blaze.
I behold the ships of war, the partly builded vessels swarthy,
With their naked ribs of metal, resting grimly on the ways;
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Springing from the corded muscles of our modern Kuklopes,
Where the broad and busy ship-yards stretch along the river-side,
On the sloping banks of Schuylkill, on the Hudson, and the Clyde.
Now one frigate dons her armor—plates of steel, that none may harm her;
Now they launch her in the water, now they fit her for the sea;
Now they place her engines ponderous, in her centre, fashioned wondrous;
Now the screw, whose blades propel her wheresoe'er she wills to be;
Now her guns are ranged in order on her iron-guarded border—
Thunder-toned to speak her anger when her wrath is flowing free—
Thunder-toned to speak her anger, as from sea to sea she sails,
Moving terror of the nations, mocker of the waves and gales.
Now they launch her in the water, now they fit her for the sea;
Now they place her engines ponderous, in her centre, fashioned wondrous;
Now the screw, whose blades propel her wheresoe'er she wills to be;
Now her guns are ranged in order on her iron-guarded border—
Thunder-toned to speak her anger when her wrath is flowing free—
Thunder-toned to speak her anger, as from sea to sea she sails,
Moving terror of the nations, mocker of the waves and gales.
Looking in the depths cavernous of the fiercely raging furnace,
I behold her as she cruises on the ocean far and wide,
Where the tempest howling round her, vainly striving to confound her,
In its failure pays a tribute to her stoutness and her pride,
Where the waves that rise before her, soaring wrathful topple o'er her,
Crushed to foam, to spray-drift scattered, impotently leave her side;
While the wooden navies nigh her shrink in terror at the ire
Of this daughter of the furnace, of this child of ore and fire.
I behold her as she cruises on the ocean far and wide,
Where the tempest howling round her, vainly striving to confound her,
In its failure pays a tribute to her stoutness and her pride,
Where the waves that rise before her, soaring wrathful topple o'er her,
Crushed to foam, to spray-drift scattered, impotently leave her side;
645
Of this daughter of the furnace, of this child of ore and fire.
Then the foe, depending wrongly on the fortress builded strongly,
Strive to stay the sable monster by the balls from cannons vast—
From her iron side rebounding, with a clangor loud resounding,
Merely pebbles at a giant by a babe in anger cast;
But through water grimly speeding, balls and bursting shells unheeding,
Moves the iron kraken proudly till the cannon-range is past;
Then between the town and fortress she her terrible wrath delivers
Till the stones to fragments crumble and the mighty bastion shivers.
Strive to stay the sable monster by the balls from cannons vast—
From her iron side rebounding, with a clangor loud resounding,
Merely pebbles at a giant by a babe in anger cast;
But through water grimly speeding, balls and bursting shells unheeding,
Moves the iron kraken proudly till the cannon-range is past;
Then between the town and fortress she her terrible wrath delivers
Till the stones to fragments crumble and the mighty bastion shivers.
Now the vision changes quickly; now the storm-clouds gather thickly;
Through the darkness of the tempest, on the iron-clad careers;
Neither waves to heaven aspiring, nor the raging wind untiring,
Nor the huge swell of the ocean, nor the lightning-stroke she fears.
Ha! a joint has sprung! She lurches! through the seam the water searches!
In the white-fringed, seething billows, lo! the monster disappears!
She has passed from sight forever, from the eager-straining gaze;
And my sight grows dimmer, dimmer, at the vision-blinding blaze.
Through the darkness of the tempest, on the iron-clad careers;
Neither waves to heaven aspiring, nor the raging wind untiring,
Nor the huge swell of the ocean, nor the lightning-stroke she fears.
Ha! a joint has sprung! She lurches! through the seam the water searches!
In the white-fringed, seething billows, lo! the monster disappears!
She has passed from sight forever, from the eager-straining gaze;
And my sight grows dimmer, dimmer, at the vision-blinding blaze.
| The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") | |