And when we have wakened the lust of a foe,
To draw him by flight toward our bullies we go,
Till, 'ware of strange smoke stealing nearer, he flies
Or our bullies close in for to make him good prize.

So, when we have spied on the path of their host,
One flieth to carry that word to the coast;
And, lest by false doubling they turn and go free,
One lieth behind them to follow and see.

Anon we return, being gathered again,
Across the sad valleys all drabbled with rain
Across the grey ridges all crispèd and curled -
To join the long dance round the curve of the world.

The bitter salt spindrift, the sun-glare likewise,
The moon-track a-tremble, bewilders our eyes,
Where, linking and lifting, our sisters we hail
"Twixt wrench of cross-surges or plunge of head-gale.

As maidens awaiting the bride to come forth
Make play with light jestings and wit of no worth,
So, widdershins circling the bride-bed of death,
Each fleereth her neighbour and signeth and saith:-

"What see ye?

"What hear ye? "What mark ye? "What chase ye?

Their signals, or levin afar?

God's thunder, or guns of our war?
Their smoke, or the cloud-rack outblown?
Their lights, or the Daystar low down?"

So, times past all number deceived by false shows,
Deceiving we cumber the road of our foes,
For this is our virtue: to track and betray;
Preparing great battles a sea's width away.

Now peace

is at end and our peoples take heart, For the laws are clean gone that restrained our art; Up and down the near headlands and against the far wind We are loosed (O be swift!) to the work of our kind!

THE DESTROYERS

1898

THE strength of twice three thousand horse

That seeks the single goal;

The line that holds the rending course,

The hate that swings the whole:

The stripped hulls, slinking through the gloom, At gaze and gone again

'The Brides of Death that wait the groom The Choosers of the Slain!

Offshore where sea and skyline blend
In rain, the daylight dies;

The sullen, shouldering swells attend
Night and our sacrifice.

Adown the stricken capes no flare
No mark on spit or bar, -
Girdled and desperate we dare
The blindfold game of war.

Nearer the up-flung beams that spell
The council of our foes;
Clearer the barking guns that tell

Their scattered flank to close.
Sheer to the trap they crowd their way
From ports for this unbarred.
Quiet, and count our laden prey,
The convoy and her guard!

On shoal with scarce a foot below,
Where rock and islet throng,

Hidden and hushed we watch them throw
Their anxious lights along.

Hit, and hard hit! The blow went home, The muffled, knocking stroke

The steam that overruns the foam

The foam that thins to smoke

The smoke that clokes the deep aboil

The deep that chokes her throes

--

Till, streaked with ash and sleeked with oil, The lukewarm whirlpools close!

A shadow down the sickened wave
Long since her slayer fled:

But hear their chartering quick-fires rave
Astern, abeam, ahead!

Panic that shells the drifting spar

Loud waste with none to check

Mad fear that rakes a scornful star
Or sweeps a consort's deck!

Now, while their silly smoke hangs thick,

Now ere their wits they find,

Lay in and lance them to the quick
Our gallied whales are blind!

Good luck to those that see the end,
Good-bye to those that drown

For each his chance as chance shall send
And God for all! Shut down!

The strength of twice three thousand horse
That serve the one command;
The hand that heaves the headlong force,

The hate that backs the hand:
The doom-bolt in the darkness freed,
The mine that splits the main;
The white-hot wake, the 'wildering speed
The Choosers of the Slain!

WHITE HORSES

1897

WHERE run your colts at pasture?

Where hide your mares to breed? 'Mid bergs about the Ice-cap

Or wove Sargasso weed;
By chartless reef and channel,
Or crafty coastwise bars,
But most the ocean-meadows
All purple to the stars!

Who holds the rein upon you?
The latest gale let free.
What meat is in your mangers?
The glut of all the sea.
"Twixt tide and tide's returning
Great store of newly dead,-
The bones of those that faced us,
And the hearts of those that filed.