 | The music-lesson of Confucius, And Other Poems |  |
147
HOW THE ENGINEER DIED AT DESJARDINS.’
The engineer (brave fellow) whistled “down brakes,” and while endeavouring to avert the catastrophe went down with the engine. Instead of attempting to escape at the first warning, he staid until the moment when the engine was precipitated into the abyss, and was reversing it and endeavouring to prevent if possible the fatal results.’—
N. Y. Albany Evening Journal, 1856.
THE locomotive screamed along,
A darting death on wings;
And the smoke puffed out its masses black,
As hell its legions flings,
Over the track, right down the road,
Swift as the desert wind,
With a draw-bridge gaping wide before,
And a hundred souls behind.
A darting death on wings;
And the smoke puffed out its masses black,
As hell its legions flings,
Over the track, right down the road,
Swift as the desert wind,
With a draw-bridge gaping wide before,
And a hundred souls behind.
The engineer looked out, and saw
That hope was all in vain,
Yet whistled to the brakesman—down!
‘I'll die, or save the train.’
And did he leap to save himself?
No—in a desperate strife
He wrestled with the Iron Fiend,
True to the last in life.
That hope was all in vain,
Yet whistled to the brakesman—down!
‘I'll die, or save the train.’
And did he leap to save himself?
No—in a desperate strife
He wrestled with the Iron Fiend,
True to the last in life.
148
True to the heart, not caring though
The last faint chance were gone,
While like a thundering avalanche
The roaring train flew on,
Right o'er the draw—right down the gulf,
In one tremendous fall.
'Mid screaming steam and crashing iron,
Went engineer and all.
The last faint chance were gone,
While like a thundering avalanche
The roaring train flew on,
Right o'er the draw—right down the gulf,
In one tremendous fall.
'Mid screaming steam and crashing iron,
Went engineer and all.
Man of the road!—May truth itself
Judge well this thought of mine,
That I do deem it worth a life
To die a death like thine!
The Roll of Honour will not end,
Nor the Martyrs' list be done,
Till that Desjardins engineer
Be written down as one.
Judge well this thought of mine,
That I do deem it worth a life
To die a death like thine!
The Roll of Honour will not end,
Nor the Martyrs' list be done,
Till that Desjardins engineer
Be written down as one.
| The music-lesson of Confucius, And Other Poems | |