Two sullen bullocks led the line, Their great eyes shining bright like wine; Two sullen captive kings were they, That had in time held herds at bay, And even now they crush'd the sod With stolid sense of majesty, And stately stepp'd and stately trod, As if 'twas something still to be Kings even in captivity. XIV. And why did these same sunburnt men Let Morgan gain the plain, and then Pursue him to the utter sea? You ask me here impatiently. And I as pertly must reply, My task is but to tell a tale, To give a wide sail to the gale, To paint the boundless plain, the sky; To rhyme, nor give a reason why. Mostlike they sought his gold alone, And fear'd to make their quarrel known Lest it should keep its secret bed; Mostlike they thought to best prevail And conquer with united hands Alone upon the lonesome sands; Mostlike they had as much to dread; Mostlike--but I must tell my tale. And Morgan, ever looking back, Push'd on, push'd up his mountain track, Past camp, past train, past caravan, Past flying beast, past failing man, Past brave men battling with a foe That circled them with lance and bow And feather'd arrows all a-wing; Till months unmeasured came and ran The calendar with him, as though Old Time had lost all reckoning; Then passed for aye the creaking trains, And pioneers that named the plains. Those brave old bricks of Forty-nine! What lives they lived! what deaths they died! A thousand cañons, darkling wide Below Sierra's slopes of pine, Receive them now. And they who died Along the far, dim, desert route. Their ghosts are many. Let them keep Their vast possessions. The Piute, The tawny warrior, will dispute No boundary with these. And I, Who saw them live, who felt them die, Say, let their unploughed ashes sleep, Untouched by man, by plain or steep. The bearded, sunbrown'd men who bore The burthen of that frightful year, Who toil'd, but did not gather store, They shall not be forgotten. Drear And white, the plains of Shoshonee Shall point us to that farther shore, And long white shining lines of bones, Make needless sign or white mile-stones. The wild man's yell, the groaning wheel; The train that moved like drifting barge; The dust that rose up like a cloud, Like smoke of distant battle! Loud The great whips rang like shot, and steel Of antique fashion, crude and large, Flash'd back as in some battle charge.