The Arctic Voyager
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 faceLooked northward toward the pole; if mortal strengthCould have sustained me, I had never turnedTill I had seen the star which never setsFreeze in the Arctic zenith. That I failedTo solve the mysteries of the ice-bound world,Was not because I faltered in the quest.Witness those pathless forests which concealThe bones of perished comrades, that long march,Blood-tracked o’er flint and snow, and one dread nightBy Athabasca, when a cherished lifeFlowed to give life to others. This, and worse,I suffered—let it pass—it has not tamedMy spirit nor the faith which was my strength.Despite of waning years, despite the worldWhich doubts, the few who dare, I purpose now—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,And may be reached, though since this earth was madeNo keel hath ploughed it, and to mortal earNo wind hath told its secrets… With this tideI sail; if all be well, this very moonShall see my ship beyond the southern capeOf 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 reachOur bourne, and come with tales of wonder back,Or whether we shall lose the precious time,Locked in thick ice, or whether some strange fateShall end us all, I know not; but I knowA lofty hope, if earnestly pursued,Is its own crown, and never in this lifeIs labor wholly fruitless. In this faithI shall not count the chances—sure that allA prudent foresight asks we shall not want,And all that bold and patient hearts can doYe will not leave undone. The rest is God’s!