POETRY.
THE DESTROYER.
A DWARFISH thing of steel and fire ;
My iron nerves obey The bidding of my crafty sire, Who drew me out of clay, And sent me forth, on paths unkrofl, To slay his puny clan : A slave of hell, a scourge of God: For I was made by Man.
When foul fog-curtains droop and meet Athwart an oily sea ; My rhythmic pulse begins to beat : 'Tie bunting time for me.
A breathing swell is hardly seen To stir the emerald deep; As through that ocean jungle green I, velvet-footed, creep.
And lo ! my prey, a palace reared Above an arsenal, By lightning's viewless finger steered, Comes on, majestical.
The mists before her bows dispart ; And 'neath that Traitors' Gate, The royal vessel, high of heart, Sweeps queenlike to her fate : Too confident of strength to heed The menacing faint sound ; As from their leash, like bloodhounds freed, The snub torpedoes bound ; She does not note them quartering wide, Nor guess what lip is this, That presses on her stately side Its biting Judas kiss : Till with a roar that frights the stars, Her cracking timbers rend; And lurid smoke and flaming spars In one red storm ascend : Whose booming thunder drowns the cries Of myriad souls in pain ; Where tossed on turbid waters lies My quarry, torn in twain.
Awhile I watch her, half in fear : There needs no second blow : A full-gorged lynx that leaves the deer, My hunger filled, I go.
The stricken monarch may not mark What foe her trust betrayed ; For swiftly as it came, the bark Slinks back into the shade.
A will more strong than steel or fire Controls my tigerish play : My crafty hundred-handed sire Who dragged me forth from clay. He, too, claims kindred with the clod, Through some diviner plan : Half imp of hell, half child of God, The Murder Angel, Man.
EDWARD SYDNEY TYLEE.
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