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Behind him lay the gray Azores,
Behind the Gates of Hercules;
Before him not the
ghost of shores;
Before him only shoreless seas.
The
good mate said: "Now must we pray,
For lo! the very
stars are gone.
Brave Admiral, speak, what shall I say?"
"Why, say : 'Sail on! sail on! and on!'"
"My men grow mutinous day
by day;
My men grow ghastly, wan and weak."
The stout
mate thought of home; a spray
Of salt wave washed his
swarthy cheek.
What shall I say , brave Admiral, say,
If we sight naught but seas at dawn?"
"Why, you shall say at break of
day,
'Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!'"
They
sailed and sailed, as winds might blow,
Until at last
the blanched mate said:
"Why, now not even God would know
Should I and all my men fall dead.
These very winds forget their way,
For God from these dread seas is gone.
Now speak,
brave Admiral, speak and say" --
He said: "Sail on! sail
on! and on!"
They sailed. They sailed. Then spake the mate:
"This mad sea shows his teeth tonight.
He curls his lip, he
lies in wait,
With lifted teeth, as if to bite!
Brave
Admiral, say but one good word:
What shall we do when
hope is gone?"
The words leapt like a leaping sword:
"Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!"
Then, pale and worn, he paced
his deck,
And peered through darkness. Ah, that night
Of all dark nights! And then a speck --
A light! A
light! At last a light!
It grew, a starlit flag unfurled!
It grew to be Time's burst of dawn.
He gained a world; he gave that
world
Its grandest lesson: "On! sail on!"
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