“There was no thought of Orb or Crown
When the single wooden chest went down
To the steering-flat, and the careless Gunroom haled him
To learn by ancient and bitter use,
How neither Favour nor Excuse,
Nor aught save his sheer self henceforth availed him.

“There was no talk of birth or rank
By the slung hammock or scrubbed plank
In the steel-grated prisons where I cast him;
But niggard hours and a narrow space
For rest—and the naked light on his face—
While the ship’s traffic flowed, unceasing, past him.

“Thus I schooled him to go and come—
To speak at the word—at a sign be dumb;
To stand to his task, not seeking others to aid him;
To share in honour what praise might fall
For the task accomplished, and—over all—
To swallow rebuke in silence. Thus I made him.

“I loosened every mood of the deep
On him, a child and sick for sleep,
Through the long watches that no time can measure,
When I drove him, deafened and choked and blind,
At the wave-tops cut and spun by the wind;
Lashing him, face and eyes, with my displeasure.

“I opened him all the guile of the seas—
Their sullen, swift-sprung treacheries,
To be fought, or forestalled, or dared, or dismissed with laughter.
I showed him Worth by Folly concealed,
And the flaw in the soul that a chance revealed
(Lessons remembered—to bear fruit thereafter).

“I dealt him Power beneath his hand,
For trial and proof, with his first Command—
Himself alone, and no man to gainsay him.
On him the End, the Means, and the Word,
And the harsher judgment if he erred,
And—outboard—Ocean waiting to betray him.

“Wherefore, when he came to be crowned,
Strength in Duty held him bound,
So that not Power misled nor ease ensnared him
Who had spared himself no more than his seas had spared him!”