692 RUDYARD KIPLING'S VERSE
Raging seas have we rowed in But we seldom saw them thus, Our master is angry with Odin Odin is angry with us! Heavy odds have we taken, But never before such odds. The Gods know they are forsaken, We must risk the wrath of the Gods!
Over the crest she flies from, Into its hollow she drops, Cringes and clears her eyes from The wind-torn breaker-tops, Ere out on the shrieking shoulder Of a hill-high surge she drives. Meet her! Meet her and hold her! Pull for your scoundrel lives!
The thunders bellow and clamour The harm that they mean to do! There goes Thor's own Hammer Cracking the dark in two! Close! But the blow has missed her, Here comes the wind of the blow! Row or the squall '11 twist her Broadside on to it! Row !
Heark 'ee, Thor of the Thunder! We are not here for a jest For wager, warfare, or plunder, Or to put your power to test. This work is none of our wishing We would house at home if we might But our master is wrecked out fishing.
We go to find him to-night.