'The Trail Of Ninety-Eight' by Robert Service
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Gold! We leapt from our benches. Gold! We sprang from our stools.
Gold! We wheeled in the furrow, fired with the faith of fools.
Fearless, unfound, unfitted, far from the night and the cold,
Heard we the clarion summons, followed the master-lure--Gold!
Men from the sands of the Sunland; men from the woods of the West;
Men from the farms and the cities, into the Northland we pressed.
Graybeards and striplings and women, good men and bad men and bold,
Leaving our homes and our loved ones, crying exultantly--"Gold!"
Never was seen such an army, pitiful, futile, unfit;
Never was seen such a spirit, manifold courage and grit.
Never has been such a cohort under one banner unrolled
As surged to the ragged-edged Arctic, urged by the arch-tempter--Gold.
"Farewell!" we cried to our dearests; little we cared for their tears.
"Farewell!" we cried to the humdrum and the yoke of the hireling years;
Just like a pack of school-boys, and the big crowd cheered us good-bye.
Never were hearts so uplifted, never were hopes so high.
The spectral shores flitted past us, and every whirl of the screw
Hurled us nearer to fortune, and ever we planned what we'd do--
Do with the gold when we got it--big, shiny nuggets like plums,
There in the sand of the river, gouging it out with our thumbs.
And one man wanted a castle, another a racing stud;
A third would cruise in a palace yacht like a red-necked prince of blood.
And so we dreamed and we vaunted, millionaires to a man,
Leaping to wealth in our visions long ere the trail began.
II
We landed in wind-swept Skagway. We joined the weltering mass,
Clamoring over their outfits, waiting to climb the Pass.
We tightened our girths and our pack-straps; we linked on the Human Chain,
Struggling up to the summit, where every step was a pain.
Gone was the joy of our faces, grim and haggard and pale;
The heedless mirth of the shipboard was changed to the care of the trail.
We flung ourselves in the struggle, packing our grub in relays,
Step by step to the summit in the bale of the winter days.
Floundering deep in the sump-holes, stumbling out again;
Crying with cold and weakness, crazy with fear and pain.
Then from the depths of our travail, ere our spirits were broke,
Grim, tenacious and savage, the lust of the trail awoke.
"Klondike or bust!" rang the slogan; every man for his own.
Oh, how we flogged the horses, staggering skin and bone!
Oh, how we cursed their weakness, anguish they could not tell,
Breaking their hearts in our passion, lashing them on till they fell!
For grub meant gold to our thinking, and all that could walk must pack;
The sheep for the shambles stumbled, each with a load on its back;
And even the swine were burdened, and grunted and squealed and rolled,
And men went mad in the moment, huskily clamoring "Gold!"
Oh, we were brutes and devils, goaded by lust and fear!
Our eyes were strained to the summit; the weaklings dropped to the rear,
Falling in heaps by the trail-side, heart-broken, limp and wan;
But the gaps closed up in an instant, and heedless the chain went on.
Never will I forget it, there on the mountain face,
Antlike, men with their burdens, clinging in icy space;
Dogged, determined and dauntless, cruel and callous and cold,
Cursing, blaspheming, reviling, and ever that battle-cry--"Gold!"
Thus toiled we, the army of fortune, in hunger and hope and despair,
Till glacier, mountain and forest vanished, and, radiantly fair,
There at our feet lay Lake Bennett, and down to its welcome we ran:
The trail of the land was over, the trail of the water began.
III
We built our boats and we launched them. Never has been such a fleet;
A packing-case for a bottom, a mackinaw for a sheet.
Shapeless, grotesque, lopsided, flimsy, makeshift and crude,
Each man after his fashion builded as best he could.
Each man worked like a demon, as prow to rudder we raced;
The winds of the Wild cried "Hurry!" the voice of the waters, "Haste!"
We hated those driving before us; we dreaded those pressing behind;
We cursed the slow current that bore us; we prayed to the God of the wind.
Spring! and the hillsides flourished, vivid in jewelled green;
Spring! and our hearts' blood nourished envy and hatred and spleen.
Little cared we for the Spring-birth; much cared we to get on--
Stake in the Great White Channel, stake ere the best be gone.
The greed of the gold possessed us; pity and love were forgot;
Covetous visions obsessed us; brother with brother fought.
Partner with partner wrangled, each one claiming his due;
Wrangled and halved their outfits, sawing their boats in two.
Thuswise we voyaged Lake Bennett, Tagish, then Windy Arm,
Sinister, savage and baleful, boding us hate and harm.
Many a scow was shattered there on that iron shore;
Many a heart was broken straining at sweep and oar.
We roused Lake Marsh with a chorus, we drifted many a mile;
There was the canyon before us--cave-like its dark defile;
The shores swept faster and faster; the river narrowed to wrath;
Waters that hissed disaster reared upright in our path.
Beneath us the green tumult churning, above us the cavernous gloom;
Around us, swift twisting and turning, the black, sullen walls of a tomb.
We spun like a chip in a mill-race; our hearts hammered under the test;
Then--oh, the relief on each chill face!--we soared into sunlight and rest.
Hand sought for hand on the instant. Cried we, "Our troubles are o'er!"
Then, like a rumble of thunder, heard we a canorous roar.
Leaping and boiling and seething, saw we a cauldron afume;
There was the rage of the rapids, there was the menace of doom.
The river springs like a racer, sweeps through a gash in the rock;
Buts at the boulder-ribbed bottom, staggers and rears at the shock;
Leaps like a terrified monster, writhes in its fury and pain;
Then with the crash of a demon springs to the onset again.
Dared we that ravening terror; heard we its din in our ears;
Called on the Gods of our fathers, juggled forlorn with our fears;
Sank to our waists in its fury, tossed to the sky like a fleece;
Then, when our dread was the greatest, crashed into safety and peace.
But what of the others that followed, losing their boats by the score?
Well could we see them and hear them, strung down that desolate shore.
What of the poor souls that perished? Little of them shall be said--
On to the Golden Valley, pause not to bury the dead.
Then there were days of drifting, breezes soft as a sigh;
Night trailed her robe of jewels over the floor of the sky.
The moonlit stream was a python, silver, sinuous, vast,
That writhed on a shroud of velvet--well, it was done at last.
There were the tents of Dawson, there the scar of the slide;
Swiftly we poled o'er the shallows, swiftly leapt o'er the side.
Fires fringed the mouth of Bonanza; sunset gilded the dome;
The test of the trail was over--thank God, thank God, we were Home!
Editor 1 Interpretation
The Trail of Ninety-Eight: A Literary Analysis
Are you a fan of adventure and exploration? Do you enjoy reading about the human spirit and the will to survive against all odds? If so, then Robert Service's "The Trail of Ninety-Eight" is the poem for you.
In this literary analysis, we will take a closer look at this classic poem and explore its themes, symbols, and poetic devices. We will also examine the historical context in which it was written and the impact it has had on literature and popular culture.
The Poet: Robert Service
Before we dive into the poem itself, let's take a moment to learn about the man behind the words. Robert Service was a Scottish-Canadian poet and novelist who lived from 1874 to 1958. He is best known for his poems about the Canadian North, particularly the Yukon Territory during the Klondike Gold Rush of the late 1890s.
Service's writing style is known for its simplicity and accessibility. He wrote in a straightforward, narrative style that was easy for readers to understand and relate to. He often used rhyme and meter to create a musical quality to his poetry, which made it enjoyable to read out loud.
The Trail of Ninety-Eight: An Overview
"The Trail of Ninety-Eight" is a narrative poem that tells the story of a group of gold prospectors making their way through the rugged terrain of the Yukon during the Klondike Gold Rush. The poem is written in the first person, from the perspective of one of the prospectors, who is never named.
The poem is divided into eight stanzas, each with six lines. The rhyme scheme is AABCCB, which gives the poem a sense of rhythm and flow. The language is simple and direct, with few metaphorical flourishes or complex images.
Themes and Symbols
At its core, "The Trail of Ninety-Eight" is a story about the human spirit and the desire for adventure and discovery. It celebrates the pioneering spirit of the prospectors who risked everything to seek their fortune in the harsh and unforgiving wilderness of the Yukon.
One of the key themes of the poem is the struggle for survival. The prospectors face a wide range of challenges on their journey, from harsh weather conditions to dangerous wildlife to treacherous terrain. They must rely on their wits and their physical strength to push forward, even when the odds are against them.
Another important theme is the power of community. The prospectors work together to support one another and overcome obstacles. They share their resources and look out for each other's well-being. This sense of camaraderie and mutual support is what allows them to survive and thrive in such a challenging environment.
Several symbols appear throughout the poem that help to reinforce these themes. The gold that the prospectors seek represents both the promise of wealth and the spirit of adventure. The trail itself is a symbol of the journey and the challenges that the prospectors must overcome. And the Yukon River, which the prospectors must cross, represents the boundary between civilization and the untamed wilderness.
Poetic Devices
Although Robert Service's style is known for its simplicity, he still uses a number of poetic devices to create a sense of rhythm and imagery. One of the most notable is his use of rhyme and meter. The AABCCB rhyme scheme creates a sense of musicality that makes the poem easy to read and enjoy.
Service also makes use of repetition to reinforce certain ideas and themes. The repeated phrase "the trail of Ninety-eight" serves as a kind of refrain, reminding the reader of the journey that the prospectors are undertaking. The repetition of the word "gold" also reinforces the importance of wealth and adventure in the prospectors' lives.
Finally, Service uses vivid imagery to create a sense of place and atmosphere. He describes the rugged terrain of the Yukon in detail, from the "mountains grim and bold" to the "rivers big and wide." This imagery helps to transport the reader to the setting of the poem and to immerse them in the world of the prospectors.
Historical Context
"The Trail of Ninety-Eight" was written in 1910, more than a decade after the Klondike Gold Rush had ended. However, it still captures the spirit of that era and the fascination that people had with the untamed wilderness of the Yukon.
The poem was also written at a time when Canada was still a relatively young country, and there was a sense of national pride in the exploration and settlement of the North. Service's poetry tapped into this sense of national identity and helped to create a mythos around the Klondike Gold Rush that endures to this day.
Impact and Legacy
"The Trail of Ninety-Eight" has had a lasting impact on literature and popular culture. It has been anthologized countless times and is still widely read and enjoyed today. It has also been adapted into film and television, most notably in the 1940 Western "Northwest Passage."
Service's poetry helped to create a romanticized image of the Canadian North that has become a part of the country's cultural identity. His straightforward, accessible style has influenced countless other writers and poets who have sought to capture the spirit of adventure and exploration in their work.
Conclusion
In conclusion, "The Trail of Ninety-Eight" is a classic poem that celebrates the human spirit and the desire for adventure and exploration. It captures the rugged beauty of the Yukon and the challenges faced by the prospectors who sought their fortune there. Robert Service's use of poetic devices and vivid imagery creates a sense of place and atmosphere that transports the reader to another time and place. The poem's enduring popularity is a testament to its timeless themes and powerful storytelling.
Editor 2 Analysis and Explanation
The Trail of Ninety-Eight: A Journey Through the Gold Rush
The Trail of Ninety-Eight is a classic poem written by Robert Service, a renowned poet and writer of the early 20th century. The poem is a vivid portrayal of the gold rush that took place in the Yukon region of Canada in the late 19th century. It tells the story of the brave and adventurous men who set out on a perilous journey to seek their fortune in the gold fields of the north. The poem is a masterpiece of storytelling, capturing the spirit of the gold rush and the hardships that the prospectors faced on their journey.
The poem begins with a description of the men who set out on the trail. They are a motley crew of adventurers, gamblers, and dreamers, all seeking their fortune in the gold fields. They are driven by the lure of gold, the promise of riches beyond their wildest dreams. They are willing to risk everything, even their lives, for a chance at striking it rich.
The first stanza of the poem sets the tone for the journey that lies ahead:
"Gold! We leapt from our benches. Gold! We sprang from our stools. Gold! We wheeled in the furrow, fired with the faith of fools."
The men are consumed by the desire for gold, and they are willing to do whatever it takes to find it. They leave behind their homes and families, their jobs and their livelihoods, and set out on a journey that will test their courage and their endurance.
The poem then takes us on a journey through the wilderness of the north. We see the men trudging through the snow, battling the cold and the wind, and struggling to survive in a harsh and unforgiving environment. They face hunger, thirst, and exhaustion, and they are constantly at risk of being attacked by wild animals or falling through the ice.
The second stanza of the poem captures the sense of danger and uncertainty that the men face on their journey:
"Then we launched our ships of fortune. Oh, the joy that filled our souls! In the sweet, bright days of old, just to think of it beguiles. Can it be that there was nothing else in all the world but gold? In our wild, fierce days of old, were we only sons of biles?"
The men are driven by a sense of adventure and excitement, but they are also aware of the risks that they face. They know that the journey ahead will be difficult and dangerous, but they are willing to take the chance.
As the men journey deeper into the wilderness, they encounter other prospectors, each with their own story and their own dreams of gold. They form friendships and alliances, but they also face competition and rivalry. The poem captures the sense of camaraderie and community that developed among the prospectors, as well as the tensions and conflicts that arose between them.
The third stanza of the poem describes the sense of community and shared purpose that the prospectors felt:
"We were friends in fortune's borderland, where the trails are dim and old; We were mates in many a camp and tent, mates in a land of gold. We have shared the shaggy bison, and wept above the slain; We have shared the sternest trials that the hand of fate can send."
The men are bound together by their shared experience, and they form a bond that transcends their differences. They are united by their quest for gold, but they are also united by their courage and their determination to survive.
The poem reaches its climax with a description of the men's arrival at the gold fields. They have endured countless hardships and overcome countless obstacles, but they have finally reached their destination. The poem captures the sense of triumph and exhilaration that the men feel as they begin to search for gold.
The final stanza of the poem captures the sense of triumph and excitement that the men feel:
"Then at last the great day came, roaring out of the night; And we saw the sun-burst banner in the east ablaze with light. Oh, the joy of that gold discovery! Oh, the wondrous days that came! When each man was king of a million, with his fortune in his claim!"
The men have achieved their dream, and they are filled with a sense of pride and accomplishment. They have overcome incredible odds, and they have found the gold that they sought. The poem ends on a note of triumph and celebration, capturing the spirit of the gold rush and the sense of adventure and excitement that drove the prospectors to seek their fortune in the north.
In conclusion, The Trail of Ninety-Eight is a classic poem that captures the spirit of the gold rush and the hardships that the prospectors faced on their journey. It is a vivid portrayal of a bygone era, a time when men were willing to risk everything for a chance at striking it rich. The poem is a masterpiece of storytelling, capturing the sense of adventure and excitement that drove the prospectors to seek their fortune in the north. It is a testament to the human spirit, to the courage and determination that can overcome even the most daunting of obstacles.
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