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- Герман Мелвилл
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- Моби Дик
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I
leave
a
white
and
turbid
wake
;
pale
waters
,
paler
cheeks
,
where'er
I
sail
.
The
envious
billows
sidelong
swell
to
whelm
my
track
;
let
them
;
but
first
I
pass
.
Yonder
,
by
ever-brimming
goblet
's
rim
,
the
warm
waves
blush
like
wine
.
The
gold
brow
plumbs
the
blue
.
The
diver
sun
--
slow
dived
from
noon
--
goes
down
;
my
soul
mounts
up
!
she
wearies
with
her
endless
hill
.
Is
,
then
,
the
crown
too
heavy
that
I
wear
?
this
Iron
Crown
of
Lombardy
.
Yet
is
it
bright
with
many
a
gem
;
I
the
wearer
,
see
not
its
far
flashings
;
but
darkly
feel
that
I
wear
that
,
that
dazzlingly
confounds
.
'
Tis
iron
--
that
I
know
--
not
gold
.
'
Tis
split
,
too
--
that
I
feel
;
the
jagged
edge
galls
me
so
,
my
brain
seems
to
beat
against
the
solid
metal
;
aye
,
steel
skull
,
mine
;
the
sort
that
needs
no
helmet
in
the
most
brain-battering
fight
!
Dry
heat
upon
my
brow
?
Oh
!
time
was
,
when
as
the
sunrise
nobly
spurred
me
,
so
the
sunset
soothed
.
No
more
.
This
lovely
light
,
it
lights
not
me
;
all
loveliness
is
anguish
to
me
,
since
I
can
ne'er
enjoy
.
Gifted
with
the
high
perception
,
I
lack
the
low
,
enjoying
power
;
damned
,
most
subtly
and
most
malignantly
!
damned
in
the
midst
of
Paradise
!
Good
night-good
night
!
(
waving
his
hand
,
he
moves
from
the
window
.
)
'
Twas
not
so
hard
a
task
.
I
thought
to
find
one
stubborn
,
at
the
least
;
but
my
one
cogged
circle
fits
into
all
their
various
wheels
,
and
they
revolve
.
Or
,
if
you
will
,
like
so
many
ant-hills
of
powder
,
they
all
stand
before
me
;
and
I
their
match
Oh
,
hard
!
that
to
fire
others
,
the
match
itself
must
needs
be
wasting
!
What
I
've
dared
,
I
've
willed
;
and
what
I
've
willed
,
I
'll
do
!
They
think
me
mad
--
Starbuck
does
;
but
I
'm
demoniac
,
I
am
madness
maddened
!
That
wild
madness
that
's
only
calm
to
comprehend
itself
!
The
prophecy
was
that
I
should
be
dismembered
;
and
--
Aye
!
I
lost
this
leg
.
I
now
prophesy
that
I
will
dismember
my
dismemberer
.
Now
,
then
,
be
the
prophet
and
the
fulfiller
one
.
That
's
more
than
ye
,
ye
great
gods
,
ever
were
.
I
laugh
and
hoot
at
ye
,
ye
cricket-players
,
ye
pugilists
,
ye
deaf
Burkes
and
blinded
Bendigoes
!
I
will
not
say
as
schoolboys
do
to
bullies
--
Take
some
one
of
your
own
size
;
do
n't
pommel
me
!
No
,
ye
've
knocked
me
down
,
and
I
am
up
again
;
but
ye
have
run
and
hidden
.
Come
forth
from
behind
your
cotton
bags
!
I
have
no
long
gun
to
reach
ye
.
Come
,
Ahab
's
compliments
to
ye
;
come
and
see
if
ye
can
swerve
me
.
Swerve
me
?
ye
can
not
swerve
me
,
else
ye
swerve
yourselves
!
man
has
ye
there
.
Swerve
me
?
The
path
to
my
fixed
purpose
is
laid
with
iron
rails
,
whereon
my
soul
is
grooved
to
run
.
Over
unsounded
gorges
,
through
the
rifled
hearts
of
mountains
,
under
torrents
'
beds
,
unerringly
I
rush
!
Naught
's
an
obstacle
,
naught
's
an
angle
to
the
iron
way
!
By
the
Mainmast
;
Starbuck
leaning
against
it
.
My
soul
is
more
than
matched
;
she
's
over-manned
;
and
by
a
madman
!
Insufferable
sting
,
that
sanity
should
ground
arms
on
such
a
field
!
But
he
drilled
deep
down
,
and
blasted
all
my
reason
out
of
me
!
I
think
I
see
his
impious
end
;
but
feel
that
I
must
help
him
to
it
.
Will
I
,
nill
I
,
the
ineffable
thing
has
tied
me
to
him
;
tows
me
with
a
cable
I
have
no
knife
to
cut
.
Horrible
old
man
!
Who
's
over
him
,
he
cries
;
--
aye
,
he
would
be
a
democrat
to
all
above
;
look
,
how
he
lords
it
over
all
below
!
Oh
!
I
plainly
see
my
miserable
office
--
to
obey
,
rebelling
;
and
worse
yet
,
to
hate
with
touch
of
pity
!
For
in
his
eyes
I
read
some
lurid
woe
would
shrivel
me
up
,
had
I
it
.
Yet
is
there
hope
.
Time
and
tide
flow
wide
.
The
hated
whale
has
the
round
watery
world
to
swim
in
,
as
the
small
gold-fish
has
its
glassy
globe
.
His
heaven-insulting
purpose
,
God
may
wedge
aside
.
I
would
up
heart
,
were
it
not
like
lead
.
But
my
whole
clock
's
run
down
;
my
heart
the
all-controlling
weight
,
I
have
no
key
to
lift
again
.
Oh
,
God
!
to
sail
with
such
a
heathen
crew
that
have
small
touch
of
human
mothers
in
them
!
Whelped
somewhere
by
the
sharkish
sea
.
The
white
whale
is
their
demigorgon
.
Hark
!
the
infernal
orgies
!
that
revelry
is
forward
!
mark
the
unfaltering
silence
aft
!
Methinks
it
pictures
life
Foremost
through
the
sparkling
sea
shoots
on
the
gay
,
embattled
,
bantering
bow
,
but
only
to
drag
dark
Ahab
after
it
,
where
he
broods
within
his
sternward
cabin
,
builded
over
the
dead
water
of
the
wake
,
and
further
on
,
hunted
by
its
wolfish
gurglings
.
The
long
howl
thrills
me
through
!
Peace
!
ye
revellers
,
and
set
the
watch
!
Oh
,
life
!
'
tis
in
an
hour
like
this
,
with
soul
beat
down
and
held
to
knowledge
--
as
wild
,
untutored
things
are
forced
to
feed
--
Oh
,
life
!
'
tis
now
that
I
do
feel
the
latent
horror
in
thee
!
but
'
tis
not
me
!
that
horror
's
out
of
me
,
and
with
the
soft
feeling
of
the
human
in
me
,
yet
will
I
try
to
fight
ye
,
ye
grim
,
phantom
futures
!
Stand
by
me
,
hold
me
,
bind
me
,
O
ye
blessed
influences
!
(
Stubb
solus
,
and
mending
a
brace
.
)
