The King of the Icebergs

Serene the Sabbath evening fellUpon the Northern deep,And lonely there a noble barkAcross the waves did sweep;She rode them like a living thing,That heeds not blast nor storm,When, lo! the King of the Icebergs rose,A strange and awful form.

Upon the horizon's verge he frown'd,A mountain mid the main,As erst Philistia's giant tower'dO'er Israel's tented plain.And hoarsely o'er the dark blue seaWas a threat'ning challenge toss'd,"Who is this, that dares, with feet of fire,To tread in my realm of frost?"

Yet on the gallant steamship went,Her heart of flame beat high,And the stream of her fervent breath flow'd outIn volumes o'er the sky!So the Ice-King seized his deadly lanceTo pierce the stranger foe,And down to his deed of vengeance rush'd,Troubling the depths below.

The watchful stars look'd calmly on,Girt with their silver zones,When a flash of bursting glory tracedAn arch around their thrones.For Aurora Borealis bentFrom her palace above the skies,And the wondering billows open'd wideTheir phosphorescent eyes.

Firm at his post the captain stood,Clear-soul'd and undismay'd,And the King of the Iceberg's power defied,While night drew on its shade;On, through the interdicted realm,With fearless prow he sped,Though round him gathering dangers press'd,And nameless forms of dread.

And longer had he borne the strife,But he thought of those who gaveTheir life and welfare to his handUpon the faithless wave;The noble and the true of heart,The helpless and the fair,The child upon its mother's knee,That knew no fear nor care;

And felt, in their far-distant homes,How deep the grief and sore,If the lip of love for them should ask,And they return no more.

And so his gallant ship he steer'dFrom the disastrous fray,And full in the teeth of the southern blastLed on her venturous way.

"Not thus shall ye 'scape my stormy ire,"The King of the Icebergs spake,And bade unloose his vassal train,By arctic stream and lake;And swift a countless monster trainRode over the waters blue,With their dazzling helms and stony eyes,A pitiless, ruffian crew.

An icy ambush around the keelWith breathless speed they laid,And the vengeful monarch laugh'd to seeHow strong that mesh was made;And, clustering close, that squadron direSpread over the startled flood,While their arrows of frost flew thick, and chill'dThe hardiest seaman's blood.

But there fell a gleam of the light above,That with Mercy's angel dwells,And aided the labouring bark to foilThe King of the Iceberg's spells:For this, by many a hearth-stone bright,A strain of praise shall be,To him who guides the wanderer home,And rules the boisterous sea.