I. , o'er leagues of pathless sand Long journeying patiently from far away, Lured by the promise of a fairer land, Reach'd ere the close of one eventful day The craggy shore of a capacious stream: And lo! the Promised Land before them lay All in a golden sunset, whose last gleam Reveal'd between the rovers and their rest No barrier save that river's bridgeless breast.
II. Each sufferer, sick and footsore from the waste, Hail'd with reviving hope the blissful sight. About the river-beach they pitch'd in haste Their evening tents, and roam'd in dreams all night The Land of Promise. At the dawn, however, The signal trumpet sounded, summoning The tribe to council. For that rock-bound river Was broad, and deep, and rapid. The first thing On which their pilgrim parliament decided Was to preserve intact, to a community Whose best opinions might be much divided, The necessary strength of social unity. And so it ruled that they should all agree To recognize as final the authority Of whatsoever plan might chance to be Adopted by the vote of the majority.
III. Scarce was this salutary rule laid down, Ere one brisk leader of the emigration (Whose dauntless spirit was to all well known) Sprang forward with a shout of exultation; And, from the shoulder of the stony shore Pointing where every gaze instinctive turn'd, "Brothers," he cried, "procrastinate no more! The Promised Land, long arduously earn'd, Before us lies. Why linger, then, the brave? What need of projects and of plans? To me Nature hard muscles and a man's heart gave, Nor need I more to grasp the good I see. Forward! Who follows? Fate befriends the bold!" Without a pause he plunged into the wave That 'twixt the wanderers and their wishes roll'd; And, after him, to glory or the grave, The younger pilgrims rush'd.
IV. A cry arose, "Rash fools, restrain this mad enthusiasm! Behold with what enthusiastic blows The battering current grinds its granite chasm! What to its pitiless waves can you oppose? Your numbers? They outnumber you. Your will? The water's will is wilder than your own. Your energy? More energetic still Is the tremendous drift that drags you down. Rest in the rear when ruin's in the van, Reflect, return, renounce. … Alas, too late!"
V. He who said this was an old grey-hair'd man. His voice was answer'd by resentful cries, "Pedant, and craven-hearted renegate, Preach not to us thy croaking homilies! Farewell to those who fear, and those who wait! Progress is prudence!" Save the river's roar, The elders of the tribe (with prescient faces, Gazing aghast, and listening) heard no more; But saw, still saw, in the fierce stream's embraces, Here a wild arm, and there a whirling head, And then — the heaving of the funeral pall By the grim, bleak, implacable river spread Over the grave of an ideal.
VI. All Were husht with horror. In the silence said That-old grey-headed watcher of the tide, "Friends, let us mourn for the untimely dead; Whom impulse fair, with precept false allied And inexperience, to their doom hath led. They err'd in seeking, but they sought, the truth; And we shall miss the force their fervor caught From full hearts glowing with the fire of youth. That generous warmth, alas, no longer ours, We must replace by clear, if frigid, thought, And toil that trains for triumph temperate powers. Yon ravenous and remorseless element Us from nor promised rest doth still divide. Let us, O friends, some dexterous dyke invent To curb the current or divert the tide. A faithless and a formidable foe We have to deal with. No concessions vile, No haste incautious! Grudge not labor slow. Complete the plan ere you begin the pile. To work!"
VII. These words evoked but faint applause. A few men to the speaker's side drew near, And grasp'd his hand, after a thoughtful pause, In silence; scorning by a single cheer To recognize the Passions as allies Of Reason's coldly calculated cause. Small was their number, but they seem'd the wise. Meanwhile, from out the masses in the rear A man stepp'd forward. His broad back was bow'd, His form misshapen, like a wither'd oak With strong limbs warp'd and naked. To the crowd, Whence he had issued, bitterly he spoke: