POETRY.
RAMON. El Refugio Mine, Northern Mexico, 1874. By Bret Earte, in the Atlantic Monthly. Drunk and senseless in his place, Prone and sprawling on his face, More like brute than any man alive or dead— By his great pump, out of gear, Lay the peon engineer, Walking only just to hear, Overhead, Angry tones that called his name, Oaths and cries of bitter blame — Woke to hear all this, and waking, turned and fled ! “To the man who’ll bring to me,” Cried Inteudant Harry Lee — Harry Lee, the English foreman of the mine—- “ Bring the sot, alive or dead, I will give to him,” he said, “ Fifteen hundred pesos down, Just to see the rascal’s crown Underneath this heel of mine ; Since but death Deserves the man whose deed, Be it vice or want of heed, Stops the pumps that give ns breath— Stops the pumps that suck the death From the poisoned lower levels of the mine! ” No one answered, for a cry From the shaft rose up on high ; And shuffling, scrambling, tumbling from below, Came the miners each, the bolder Mounting on the weaker’s shoulder, Grappling, clinging to their hold or Letting go, As the weaker gasped and foil From the ladder to the well — To the poisoned pit of hell Down below ! “To the man who sets them free,” Cried the foreman, Harry Lee—--11 any Lee, the English foreman of the mine -- “Brings them out and sets them free, 1 will give the man,” said he, “Twice that sum, who with a rope Face to face with death shall cope. Let him come who dares to hope !” “Hold your peace,” some one replied, Standing by the foreman’s side ; “There has one already gone, who’er be be!’) Then they held their breath Avitlx awe, Pulling on the rope, and saw Fainting figures reappear, On the black rope, swinging clear, Fastened by some skilful hand from below ; Till a score the level gained, And but one alone remained— He the hero of the last, He whose skilful hands made fast The long line that brought them back to hope and cheer ! Haggard, rasping, dm n dropped ~\y. rhe fed. o' Harry Lee— • i Harry Leo, the English foreman of He mine; “ i have come,” ho gasped, “to claim Both rewards. Senor, my name Is Ramon ! I’m the drunken engineer— I’m the coward, Senor.” Here He fell over, by that sign Dead as stone 1
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Bibliographic details
Globe, Volume II, Issue 157, 5 December 1874, Page 3
Word Count
407POETRY. Globe, Volume II, Issue 157, 5 December 1874, Page 3
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