_1st Man._ It _may_ be so. _2nd Man._ Oh, doubt not but it must. Day after day, week crawling after week, So slowly that they scarcely seem to move, Nor we to know it, till our calendar Shows us that months have lapsed away, and left Our drifting time, while here our bodies lie Like melancholy blots upon the snow. Thus have we lived, and gradually seen, By calculations which appear to mock Our hearts with their false figures, that ’tis now Three years since we were cut off from the world By these impregnable walls of solid ocean! _1st Man._ All this is true: the physical elements We thought to conquer, are too strong for man. _2nd Man._ We have felt the crush of battle side by side; Seen our best friends, with victory in their eyes, Suddenly smitten down, a mangled heap, And thought our own turn might be next; yet never Drooped we in spirit, or such horror felt As in the voiceless tortures of this place, Which freezes up the mind. _1st Man._ Not yet. _2nd Man._ I feel it. Death, flying red-eyed from the cannon’s mouth, Were child’s play to confront, compared with this. Inch by inch famine in the silent frost— The cold anatomies of our dear friends, One by one carried in their rigid sheets To lay beneath the snow—till he that’s last, Creeps to the lonely horror of his berth Within the vacant ship, and while the bears Grope round and round, thinks of his distant home— Those dearest to him—glancing rapidly Through his past life—then with a wailful sigh And a brief prayer, his soul becomes a blank. _1st Man._ This is despair—I’ll hear no more of it. We have provisions still. _2nd Man._ And for how long? _1st Man._ A flock of wild birds may pass over us, And some our shots may reach. _2nd Man._ And by this chance Find food for one day more. _1st Man._ Yes, and thank God; For the next day may preservation come, And rescue from old England. _2nd Man._ All our fuel Is nearly gone; and as the last log burns And falls in ashes, so may we foresee The frozen circle sitting round.