The Stern Chase

A stern chase is a long chase And the wind dies every hour, And the veil that covers the ocean’s face Is Death and Wealth and Power. Ten leagues behind, we cursed the wind That would not blow by day, Three nights we tried to trail her blind And thrice she crept away; O the fog blew thin and the breeze drew in And the leagues lay green and gone, By our keel that quivered we vowed to win Ere the birth of the dismal dawn. The wind’s awake, the rollers break, Split by the scurrying prow, We gulp our haste for the booty’s sake And reef the tops’ls now; For haste is dear, but the goal is near And she hath not seen nor heard; Our lights are lost, but our steel is here, Our ears are sick for the word. Our eyes are bright for the chance of night, We strain across the gap That yawns ’twixt us and the tossing light That rocks in the rollers’ lap. The span half-sped, we loose the head In the teeth of the ocean’s frown,— When the waves recoiled from the things we said, For the stubborn fog dropped down! The fog that shifts, the fog that drifts Sank lazily onto the sea, And we snatched one glimpse thro’ the final rifts And steered from memory.... Like a wraith of snows her sheets arose,— “’d-a-port!” her lookout cried; And our steel leapt forth for its meal of blows, As our chains caressed her side! A stern chase is a long chase And the wind dies every hour, And the veil that covers the ocean’s face Is Death and Wealth and Power.