James Clerk Maxwell (13 June 1831 – 5 November 1879 / Edinburgh, Scotland)
Hallo ye, my fellows! arise and advance,
See the white-crested waves how they stamp and they dance!
High over the reef there in anger and might,
So wildly we dance to the bloody red fight.
Than gather, now gather, come gather ye all,
Each thing that hath legs and arms, come to our call;
Like reeds on the moor when the whirlwinds vie
Our lances and war-axes darken the sky;
Sharp, sharp, as the tooth of the sea-hound and shark,
They'll tear ye, they'll split ye, fly lance to the mark,
Home, home to the heart, and thou battle-axe grim,
Split, splintring and shivering through brain-pan and limb;
To-day we ask vengeance, to-day we ask blood,
We ask it; we're coming to make our words good;
The storm flinches not tho’ the woods choke its path,
We ask it; we're coming, beware of our wrath.
At home wives and children a hearth for us lay,
A savoury flesh-feast awaits us to-day;
Behind yonder mountains e’en now the smoke streams,
And the blaze of the bush fire crackles and gleams.
Long, long have we hungered and thirsted for you,
At home the dogs bark round the clean table too,
Loud shouting we'll eat you to-night every one,
Devour you clean to the white sinewy bone.
Rush, rush ye my fellows, rush on them like hail,
Soon, soon shall their roasting your nostrils regale,
The fire is flaring, the oven’s a glow,
Heave to now hew thro’ now, Holloa, Hollo.
Poet Other Poems
- A Problem in Dynamics
- A Student's Evening Hymn
- A Vision of a Wrangler, of a University,...
- An Onset
- Answer to Tait
- British Association, Notes of the Presid...
- Cats Cradle Song, by a Babe in Knots
- Horace, Seventh Epode
- In Memory of Edward Wilson, Who Repented...
- I've Heard the Rushing
- Lectures to Women on Physical Science
- Lines written under the Conviction That ...
- Molecular Evolution
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Nathalocus by James Clerk Maxwell )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley