Sea Stories: Icebergs by Lydia Huntley Sigourney
September 11, 2024
Samantha Andrews
Lydia Huntley Sigourney (1791–1865) was a popular poet in her time, but today has largely been forgotten. In her poem Iceberg , Sigourney recounts the journey of the steamship Great Western from Europe to the USA in 1841 as it passed through a “fleet” of icebergs. The captain of the Great Western (Captain Hoskins) reported the fleet of 300 to 400 icebergs stretched over a kilometre.
The setting Sun, with glorious smile
Illumed the Atlantic main,
And sweetly cheer'd a noble bark
That rode the surging plain;
And from its deck, the voyagers
That cloudless radiance blest,
When lo! a huge, portentous form
Appear'd on Ocean's breast,
Just at the far horizon's verge,
A mountain mid the main,
As erst Philistia's giant tower'd
O'er Israel's tented plain,
While hoarsely o'er the wave, it seemed
A threat of terror sped,
"Who thus, with foot of fire, hath dar'd
My realm of frost to tread?"
Yet on, the gallant steam-ship press'd
Her flaming heart beat high,
And boldly flow'd her fervid breath,
In volumes o'er the sky,
Though gathering at their chieftain's nod
A monster-train drew near,
With frowning helms, by Winter forg'd,
In panoply severe.
Then, as the watchful stars looked down
From their untroubled throne,
A rushing flood of crimson light
Spread forth from zone to zone,—
Aurora Borealis bent
Her arch around the skies,
And up the wondering billows gazed
With phosphorescent eyes.
The sleepless Captain at his post
Firm and undaunted stood,
Though ice was thickening round his keel,
To chill the seamens' blood.
How tardily that fearful night,
Told out each measured hour,
While many a prayerful heart invoked
The Great Deliverer's power.
Up rose the morn, and touched the crowns
Of all those arctic kings,
With lustre of a thousand rays
That the rich diamond flings;
And flashing from their vitreous shields
Reflected colors streamed,
While towers and miniarets of pearl,
In fearful brilliance gleamed.
Who led us through that fierce array
Of foes, so stern and dark,
The buffet of whose iron hands
Could crush the strongest bark?
Who brought us from their fearful realm
Unscathed, the tale to tell,
At home, amid a listening group,
While tears of rapture swell?
Forget Him not,—that God of love,
But pay the worship due,
And on the altar of the soul
The incense-flame renew,
To Him, who foiled that frigid host
Who on their Ocean path,
So terrible in beauty frowned,
So pitiless in wrath.
Iceberg has been reproduced here under the Public Domain licence.