Soon in the east will the dawn be gray, Rest from thy oars on the Sabbath Day."

Angrily Rambout van Dam ripped back: "Dunder en Blitzen! du Schobbejak!

Preach to thy children! and let them know Spite of the duyvil and thee, I'll row Thousands of Sundays, if need there be, Home o'er this ewig-vervlekte zee!"

Muttering curses, he headed south.

Jacob, astounded, with open mouth Watched him receding, when--crash on crash Volleyed the thunder! A hissing flash Smote on the river! He looked again.

Rambout was gone from the sight of men!

Old Dunderberg with grumbling roar Hath warned the fog to flee, But still that never-wearied oar Is heard on Tappan Zee.

A moon is closed on Hudson's breast And lanterns gem the town; The phantom craft that may not rest Plies ever, up and down,

'Neath skies of blue and skies of gray, In spite of wind or tide, Until the trump of Judgment Day-- A sound--and naught beside.

THE WHITE SHIPS AND THE RED: JOYCE KILMER

With drooping sail and pennant That never a wind may reach, They float in sunless waters Beside a sunless beach.

Their misty masts and funnels Are white as driven snow, And with a pallid radiance Their ghostly bulwarks glow.

Here is a Spanish galleon That once with gold was gay, Here is a Roman trireme Whose hues outshone the day.

But Tyrian dyes have faded, And prows that once were bright With rainbow stains wear only Death's livid, dreadful white.

White as the ice that clove her That unforgotten day, Among her pallid sisters The grim _t.i.tanic_ lay.

And through the leagues above her She looked aghast and said: "What is this living ship that comes Where every ship is dead?"

The ghostly vessels trembled From ruined stern to prow; What was this thing of terror That broke their vigil now?

Down through the startled ocean A mighty vessel came, Not white, as all dead ships must be, But red, like living flame!

The pale green waves above her Were swiftly, strangely dyed, By the great scarlet stream that flowed From out her wounded side.

And all her decks were scarlet And all her shattered crew.

She sank among the white ghost ships And stained them through and through.

The grim _t.i.tanic_ greeted her.

"And who art thou?" she said; "Why dost thou join our ghostly fleet Arrayed in living red?

We are the ships of sorrow Who spend the weary night, Until the dawn of Judgment Day, Obscure and still and white."

"Nay," said the scarlet visitor, "Though I sink through the sea, A ruined thing that was a ship, I sink not as did ye.

For ye met with your destiny By storm or rock or fight, So through the lagging centuries Ye wear your robes of white.

"But never crashing iceberg Nor honest shot of foe, Nor hidden reef has sent me The way that I must go.

My wounds that stain the waters, My blood that is like flame, Bear witness to a loathly deed, A deed without a name.

"I went not forth to battle, I carried friendly men, The children played about my decks, The women sang--and then-- And then--the sun blushed scarlet And Heaven hid its face, The world that G.o.d created Became a shameful place!

"My wrongs cry out for vengeance, The blow that sent me here Was aimed in h.e.l.l. My dying scream Has reached Jehovah's ear.

Not all the seven oceans Shall wash away that stain; Upon the brow that wears a crown I am the brand of Cain."

When G.o.d's great voice a.s.sembles The fleet on Judgment Day, The ghosts of ruined ships will rise In sea and strait and bay.

Though they have lain for ages Beneath the changeless flood, They shall be white as silver, But one--shall be like blood.

FEATHERSTONE'S DOOM: ROBERT STEPHEN HAWKER

Twist thou and twine! in light and gloom A spell is on thy hand; The wind shall be thy changeful loom, Thy web the twisting sand.

Twine from this hour, in ceaseless toil, On Blackrock's sullen sh.o.r.e: Till cordage of the sand shall coil Where crested surges roar.

'Tis for that hour, when from the wave Near voices wildly cried; When thy stern hand no succour gave, The cable at thy side.

Twist thou and twine! In light and gloom The spell is on thine hand; The wind shall be thy changeful loom, Thy web the shifting sand.

SEA-GHOSTS: MAY BYRON

O' stormy nights, be they summer or winter, Hurricane nights like these, When spar and topsail are rag and splinter Hurled o'er the sluicing seas,

To the jagged edge where the cliffs lean over, Climb as you best may climb; Lie there and listen where mysteries hover, Haunting the tides of Time.

The crumbling surf on the shingle rattles, The great waves topple and pour, Full of the fury of ancient battles, Clamant with cries of war.

The gale has summoned, the night has beckoned-- Lo, from the east and west, Stately shadows arise unreckoned Out of their deeps of rest!

Wild on the wind are voices ringing, Echoes that throng the air, Valiant voices, of victory singing, Or dark with sublime despair.

To the distant drums with their rumbling hollow, The answering trumpets blow: War-horn and fife and cymbals follow, From galleys of long ago.

The crested breaker on reef and boulder That swirls in cavernous black, Carries a challenge from decks that moulder To ships that never came back.

The gale that swoops and the sea that wrestles Are one in their wrath and might With the crash and clashing of armed vessels, Grinding across the night.

Out of the dark the broadsides thunder, Clattering to and fro: The old sea-fighters, the old world's wonder, Are manning their wrecks below.

You shall smell the smoke, you shall hear the crackle, Shall mark on the surly blast Rush and tear of the rending tackle, Thud of the falling mast.

With the foam that flies and the spray that spatters, Scourging the strand again, A terrible outcry leaps and shatters-- Tumult of drowning men.

The steep gray cliff is alive and trembles-- Was never such fear as this!

A fleet, a fleet at its foot a.s.sembles Out of the sea's abyss.

It quails and quivers, its gra.s.sy verges Vibrant with uttermost dread: It knows the groan of the laden surges, The shout of the deathless Dead.

In a rolling march of reverberations, Marching with wind and tide, Heroes of unremembered nations Vaunt their immortal pride.

Briton, Spaniard, Phoenician, Roman, Gallant implacable hosts-- Locked in fight with phantom foeman, Gather the grim sea-ghosts.