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1853
I. ALL night long they heard in the houses beside the shore, | |
| Heard, or seemed to hear, through the multitudinous roar, | |
| Out of the hell of the rapids as ’t were a lost soul’s cries,— | |
| Heard and could not believe; and the morning mocked their eyes, | |
| Showing, where wildest and fiercest the waters leaped up and ran | 5 |
| Raving round him and past, the visage of a man | |
| Clinging, or seeming to cling, to the trunk of a tree that, caught | |
| Fast in the rocks below, scarce out of the surges raught. | |
| Was it a life, could it be, to yon slender hope that clung? | |
| Shrill, above all the tumult the answering terror rung. | 10 |
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II. Under the weltering rapids a boat from the bridge is drowned, | |
| Over the rocks the lines of another are tangled and wound; | |
| And the long, fateful hours of the morning have wasted soon, | |
| As it had been in some blessed trance, and now it is noon. | |
| Hurry, now with the raft! But O, build it strong and staunch, | 15 |
| And to the lines and treacherous rocks look well as you launch! | |
| Over the foamy tops of the waves, and their foam sprent sides, | |
| Over the hidden reefs, and through the embattled tides, | |
| Onward rushes the raft, with many a lurch and leap,— | |
| Lord! if it strike him loose, from the hold he scarce can keep! | 20 |
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| No! through all peril unharmed, it reaches him harmless at last, | |
| And to its proven strength he lashes his weakness fast. | |
| Now, for the shore! But steady, steady, my men, and slow; | |
| Taut, now, the quivering lines; now slack; and so, let her go! | |
| Thronging the shores around stand the pitying multitude; | 25 |
| Wan as his own are their looks, and a nightmare seems to brood | |
| Heavy upon them, and heavy the silence hangs on all, | |
| Save for the rapids’ plunge, and the thunder of the fall. | |
| But on a sudden thrills from the people still and pale, | |
| Chorusing his unheard despair, a desperate wail: | 30 |
| Caught on a lurking point of rock it sways and swings, | |
| Sport of the pitiless waters, the raft to which he clings. | |
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III. All the long afternoon it idly swings and sways; | |
| And on the shore the crowd lifts up its hands and prays: | |
| Lifts to heaven and wrings the hands so helpless to save, | 35 |
| Prays for the mercy of God on him whom the rock and the wave | |
| Battle for, fettered betwixt them, and who, amidst their strife, | |
| Struggles to help his helpers, and fights so hard for his life,— | |
| Tugging at rope and at reef, while men weep and women swoon. | |
| Priceless second by second, so wastes the afternoon, | 40 |
| And it is sunset now; and another boat and the last | |
| Down to him from the bridge through the rapids has safely passed. | |
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IV. Wild through the crowd comes flying a man that nothing can stay, | |
| Maddening against the gate that is locked athwart his way. | |
| “No! we keep the bridge for them that can help him. You, | 45 |
| Tell us, who are you?” “His brother!” “God help you both! Pass through.” | |
| Wild, with wide arms of imploring he calls aloud to him, | |
| Unto the face of his brother, scarce seen in the distance dim; | |
| But in the roar of the rapids his fluttering words are lost | |
| As in a wind of autumn the leaves of autumn are tossed. | 50 |
| And from the bridge he sees his brother sever the rope | |
| Holding him to the raft, and rise secure in his hope; | |
| Sees all as in a dream the terrible pageantry,— | |
| Populous shores, the woods, the sky, the birds flying free; | |
| Sees, then, the form,—that, spent with effort and fasting and fear, | 55 |
| Flings itself feebly and fails of the boat that is lying so near,— | |
| Caught in the long-baffled clutch of the rapids, and rolled and hurled | |
| Headlong on to the cataract’s brink, and out of the world. | |
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