Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1873-04-21
SIR John Franklin.
The ice was here, the Ice was there.
The ice was all Cele7'idge.

Cried whaler in Bafin's Bay.
To know if between the land and the pole
l may find broad sea-way.
| charge you back, Sir John Franklin,
AS you would live and thrive:
For between the land and the frozen pole
No man may sail alive.
But lightly laughed the stout Sir John,
And spoke unto his men:-
Half England is wrong if he is right;
Bear off to the westward then.
O, whittier sail you. brave Englishman ?
Cried the little Esquimaux.
Between the land and the polar star
My goodly vessels go.
Come down, if you would journey there,
The little Indian said;
And change your cloth for fur clothing,
Your vessel for sled.
But lightly laughed the stout Sir John,
And the crew laughed with him too;
A sailor to change from ship to sled,
l ween, were something new.
All through the long, long polar day,
The vessels westward sped
And wherever the sail of Sir John was
blown,
The ice gave way and fled.
Gave way with many a hollow groan,
And with many a.surly roar;
But it murmured and threatened on ev.
cry side,
And closed where he sailed before.
Ho see ye not, my merry men,
The broad and open sea
Bethink ye what the whaler said,
Think of the little Indian sled!
The crew laughed out in glee.
Sir John, Sir John, 'tis bitter cold,
The scud drives on the breeze,
The ice comes looming from the north,
The very sunbeams freeze.
Bright summer goes dark winter comes
We cannot rule the year;
But long ere summers sun goes down,
On yonder sea we'll steer.
The dripping icebergs dipped and rose,
And foundered down the gale;
The ships were staid, the yards wer
manned
; And furled the useless sail.
The summers gone, the winters come
We sail not on yonder sea;
,, Why sail we not, Sir John Franklin?
A silent man was he.
The summer goes, the winter comes
We cannot rule the year:
| ween we cannot rule the ways,
Sir John, wherein we'd steer.
The cruel ice came floating on.
And closed beneath the lee,
Till the thickening waters dashed no MOI
Twas ice around, behind, before
y My God there is no sea
What think you of the whaler now?
What think you of the Esquimaux
Il A sled were better than a ship,
t To cruise through ice and snow.
Down sank the baleful crimson sun,
Il The northern light came out,
r And glared upon the sea-bound ships,
t And shook its spears about.
The snow came down, storm breedir
! storm,
And on the decks was laid;
Till the weary sailor, sick at heart,
Sank down beside his spade.
Sir John, the night is black and long,
The kissing wind is bleak,
The hard, green ice is strong as death
5, [ pray thee, Captain, speak
5, The night is neither bright nor short,
s. The singing breeze is cold,
The ice is not so strong as hope
The heart Of man is bold
What hope can scale this icy wall,
:. High DER the main flagstaff?
Nv Above the ridges the wolf and bear
:" Look down with a patient, settled sta
Look down on us and laugh.
The summer went. the winter came
g We could not rule the year;
But summer will melt the ice again,
And open a path to the sunny main,
Whereon our ships shall steer.
The winter went, the summer went,
The winter came around
:. But the hard, green ice was strong
= death,
And the voice of hope sank to brea
Yet caught at every sound.
Hark heard you not the noise of gun
And there, and there again?
lis some uneasy iceberg's roar,
AS he turns in the frozen main.
- Hurrah hurrah! the Esquimaux
Across the ice fields steal:
God give them grace for their charity
Ye pray for the silly seal
Sir John, where are the English field
And where are the English trees ?
And where are the little English flow
That open in the breeze
Be still, be still, my brave sailors
You shall see the fields again,
ds And smell the scent of the opening flow
The grass and the wavy grain.
are Oh when shall | see my orphan Chi
our our My Mary waits for me.
5. Oh when shall | see my old mother
And pray at her trembling knee?
On Be still, be still, my brave sailors,
Think not such thoughts again
But tear froze slowly on his cheek
He thought of Lady Jane.
0N All bitter, bitter grows the cold,
The ice grows more and more;
More settled stare the wolf and bea.
More patient than before.
the q, -
the Oh think you, good Sir John Frank
tine .ne Well ever see the land?
Each Twas cruel to send us here to starv,