; 
 
GIFT OF 
 A. F. Morrison 
 
' 
 
 I 
 
 
 ....... '**-'"' 
 
 RUDYARD KIPLING. 
 
POEMS 
 
 RUDYARD KIPLING 
 
 WITH A BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION 
 BY 
 
 NATHAN HASKELL DOLE 
 
 NEW YORK: 46 EAST 14TH STREET 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY 
 BOSTON: 100 PURCHASE STREET 
 
GIFT OP 
 
 Af 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Danny Deever 1 
 
 "Tommy" 5 
 
 " Fuzzy Wuzzy" 9 
 
 Oonts ! 13 
 
 Loot , 18 
 
 Soldier, Soldier 23 
 
 The Sons of the Widow 26 
 
 Troopin' 29 
 
 Gunga Din 32 
 
 Mandalay 38 
 
 The Young British Soldier 43 
 
 Screw-Guns 48 
 
 Belts 52 
 
 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES, 
 
 General Summary 59 
 
 Army Headquarters 64 
 
 Study of an Elevation, in Indian Ink 64 
 
 A Legend of the Foreign Office 66 
 
 The Story of Uriah 69 
 
 The Post that Fitted 71 
 
 Public Waste 75 
 
 Delilah 79 
 
 M107277 
 
 111 
 
iv CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 What Happened 83 
 
 Pink Dominoes 88 
 
 The Man who could Write 91 
 
 Municipal 94 
 
 A Code of Morals ' 98 
 
 The Last Department 102 
 
 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 To the Unknown Goddess -. . 107 
 
 The Rupaiyat of Omar Kal'vin 110 
 
 La Nuit Blanche 113 
 
 My Rival 118 
 
 The Lovers' Litany . . 121 
 
 A Ballad of Burial 124 
 
 Divided Destinies 127 
 
 The Masque of Plenty 130 
 
 The Mare's Nest 139 
 
 Possibilities . 142 
 
 Christmas in India 145 
 
 Pagett, M. P 149 
 
 The Song of the Women 153 
 
 A Ballade of Jakko Hill 157 
 
 The Plea of the Simla Dancers 159 
 
 The Ballad of Fisher's Boarding-House 163 
 
 " As the Bell Clinks " 169 
 
 An Old Song 174 
 
 Certain Maxims of Hafiz 178 
 
 The Grave of the Hundred Head 185 
 
 The Moon of Other Days 191 
 
 The Overland Mail , . 193 
 
 What the People Said 196 
 
 The Undertaker's Horse 199 
 
CONTENTS. v 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Fall of Jock Gillespie 203 
 
 Arithmetic on the Frontier 207 
 
 One Viceroy Resigns 210 
 
 The Betrothed 222 
 
 A Tale of Two Cities 229 
 
 Giffen's Debt 234 
 
 In Springtime ' 238 
 
 Two Months 240 
 
 The Galley-Slave 243 
 
 L'Envoi 249 
 
 The Conundrum of the Workshops 251 
 
 The Explanation 255 
 
 The Gift of the Sea 257 
 
 Evarra and His Gods. . . 262 
 
LIFE OF RUDYARD KIPLING.* 
 
 IN the old fairy tales the cradles of new-born infants 
 were visited by beneficent beings who granted special 
 gifts of fortune, beauty, talent, though sometimes a 
 jealous hag would slink in and by a malevolent counter- 
 charm try to spoil the bright future. Such things have 
 long ago ceased in commonplace England, but it is differ- 
 ent in India; and we can hardly help believing that the 
 power of understanding the speech of animals and birds 
 is still occasionally conferred on fortunate mortals. Else 
 how can one explain "Rikki-Tikki-Tavi," and "Tomai 
 of the Elephants " ? 
 
 Fortunate for special purposes is the man of one race 
 and language who is born amid the men of another, and 
 thus inherits two tongues and the knowledge of two 
 peoples. 
 
 Such was the good fortune of Rudyard Kipling, and 
 it is not a mere legend that, on meeting with Indian 
 elephants amid the tawdry surroundings of an American 
 circus, he was able to talk and understand the mystic 
 language of the jungle. 
 
 In the early sixties, in the English town of Burslem, 
 John Lockwood Kipling, the oldest son of the Reverend 
 Joseph Kipling, was engaged in modelling and designing 
 in terra-cotta for the potteries of that place. He is de- 
 scribed as a clever young man of artistic temperament 
 and somewhat erratic. Having studied at the art school 
 
 * Copyright, 1899, by T. Y. Crowell & Co. 
 v 
 
VI LIFE OF RUDYARD KIPLING. 
 
 at Kensington, lie was sent out to India as Professor of 
 Architecture and Sculpture at Bombay. He took with 
 him as his wife the daughter of the Reverend G. B. Mac- 
 donald, a Methodist minister at Endon, a talented young 
 woman, whom he had first met at a picnic not far from 
 the village of Kudyard; and perhaps from some pretty 
 sentiment connected with their first meeting, their first 
 son, who was born at Bombay, December 31, 1865, was 
 named Eudyard Kipling. 
 
 Those who like to account for talent otherwise than 
 by the gift of fairies will observe that in his veins flowed 
 though at a high potency the blood of Dutch an- 
 cestors who emigrated from Holland to England in the 
 fifteenth century; that his mother was of Scotch-Irish 
 origin, and even as a girl wrote charmingly in prose and 
 verse. As a child he was quick to learn, fond of read- 
 ing, and alert in games and puzzles. At the age of 
 twelve Rudyard accompanied his father to England, and 
 after he had visited the Paris Exposition of 1877 was 
 placed in the United Service College, near the little 
 town of Westward Ho on the shores of Bristol Channel. 
 He gives some interesting descriptions of the school and 
 of his experiences there. 
 
 The college, he tells us, "stood within two miles of 
 Amy as Leigh's house at Northam, overlooking the Bur- 
 roughs and the Pebbleridge, and the mouth of the Tor- 
 ridge, whence the Rose sailed in search of Don Guzman. 
 From the front dormitory windows, across the long rollers 
 of the Atlantic, you could see Lundy Island and the 
 Shutter Eock, where the Santa Catherina galleon cheated 
 Amyas out of his vengeance by going ashore; Inland 
 lay the rich Devonshire lanes and the fat orchards ; and 
 to the west the gorse and the turf rose and fell along 
 
LIFE OF RUDYARD KIPLING. Vll 
 
 the tops of the cliffs in combe after combe, till you came 
 to Clovelly and the Hobby and Gallantry Bower, and the 
 homes of the Carews and the Pinecoffins, and the Devon- 
 shire people that were old when the Armada was new." 
 
 One of his schoolmates, Mr. George Arnold Wilkie, 
 describes his appearance in the early summer of 1879 : 
 
 "He wore heavy gold-bowed spectacles, and his small' 
 black eyes and spectacles were the most readily observed 
 facts about him. He was very brown from his residence 
 in India, and he had thick black hair, rather inclined to 
 be curly. His jaw was strong, his teeth large and very 
 white. I remember having heard his fond mother at 
 that time remark to a friend upon E/udyard's fine fore- 
 head. She was right in the remark, too. He had a roll- 
 ing gait, and walked with his fists crammed in the pockets 
 of his coat. He was a fairly good tennis player, and I 
 know he used to grieve at his near-sightedness, which 
 prevented him from excelling in the sport. As a boy 
 Kipling was notably careless in dress, in spite of his 
 prim mother's and sister's frequent whispered appeals to 
 be what they called ( circumspect. 7 He would not comb 
 and brush his thick hair carefully, and he had a habit of 
 going with his shoe .laces untied. He loved to fish (and 
 he does yet) all by himself, or, at any rate, with only 
 one companion, and he would come home to his immacu- 
 late mother and sister with a mass of dock burrs or 
 several varieties of nettles clinging to his clothes in a 
 dozen places, while fish scales stuck to his coat and 
 trousers like postage stamps." 
 
 Kipling is said to have enjoyed the strict, strenuous 
 discipline of this soldier-making college. He was wise 
 enough even then to recognize its purpose. 
 
 "The school motto," he goes on to say, "was, 'Fear 
 
Vlll LIFE OF KUDYARD KIPLING. 
 
 God, Honour the King ' ; and so the men she made went 
 out to Boerland and Zululand, and India and Burma, 
 and Cyprus and Hongkong, and lived or died as gentle- 
 men and officers. 
 
 " Even the most notorious bully, for whom an awful 
 ending was prophesied, went to Canada, and was mixed 
 up in RiePs rebellion, and came out of it with a fasci- 
 nating reputation of having led a forlorn hope, and 
 behaved like a hero. The first officer killed in the last 
 Burma war was one of our boys, and the school was well 
 pleased to think it should be so. 
 
 " All these matters were noted by the older boys ; and 
 when their fathers, the grey-whiskered colonels and 
 generals, came down to see them, or the directors, who 
 were K. C. B.'s, and had been desperate, hard-fighting 
 men in their time, made a tour of inspection, it was 
 reported that the school-tone was ' healthy/ This meant 
 that the boys were straining on their leashes, and that 
 there was a steady clatter of singlesticks and clinking of 
 foils in the gymnasium at the far end of the corridor, 
 where the drill-sergeant was barking out the regulation 
 cuts and guards." 
 
 Mr. William H. Rideing says in his authoritative 
 "Boyhood of Famous Authors" that the boys of this 
 school were great swimmers, that there " was not a single 
 boy who could not do his quarter of a mile." Their 
 favorite games were golf, " long before it became fashion- 
 able," cricket, and foot-ball. Kipling tells in his own 
 inimitable way of their prowess in these games : 
 
 " We were weak in cricket ; but our foot-ball team at 
 its best devastated the country from BlundelPs we 
 always respected BlundelPs, because 'Great John Ridd' 
 had been educated there to Exeter, whose team were 
 
LIFE OF RUDYARD KIPLING. IX 
 
 grown men. Yet we, who had been taught to play 
 together, drove them back over the November mud, back 
 to their own goal-post, till the ball was hacked through 
 and touched down, and you could he'ar the long-drawn 
 yell of 'Schoo-ool! Schoo-ool!' as far as Appledore. 
 
 "When the enemy would not come to us, our team 
 went to the enemy, and if victorious, would return late 
 at night in a three-horse brake, chanting: 
 
 4 It's a way we have in the Army, 
 It's a way we have in the Navy, 
 It's a way that we have in the Public Schools, 
 Which nobody can deny ! ' 
 
 " Then the boys would flock to the dormitory windows, 
 and wave towels, and join in the 'Hip-hip-hip-hurrah! ' 
 of the chorus; and the winning team would swagger 
 through the dormitories, and show the beautiful blue 
 marks on their shins, and the little boys would be allowed 
 to get sponges and hot water." 
 
 From March, 1882, until June, 1883, Kipling was 
 editor-in-chief of the school-paper, TJie Chronicle, and 
 he gives a graphic description of the way in which it 
 was conducted : 
 
 " Three of the boys, who had moved up the school side 
 by side for four years, and were allies in all things, 
 started the notion as soon as they came to the dignity of 
 a study of their own with a door that would lock. The 
 other two told the third boy what to write, and held the 
 staircase against invaders. ., 
 
 " It was a real printed paper of eight pages ; and at 
 first the printer was more thoroughly ignorant of type- 
 setting, and the editor was more completely ignorant of 
 proof-reading, than any printer and any editor that ever 
 
X LIFE OF KUDYARD KIPLING. 
 
 was. It was printed off by a gas-engine, and even the 
 engine despised its work; for one day it went through 
 the floor of the shop, and crashed still working furi- 
 ously into the cellar. 
 
 " The paper came out at times and seasons ; but every 
 time it came out there was sure to be trouble, because 
 the editor was learning for the first time how sweet and 
 good and profitable it is and how nice it looks on the 
 page to make fun of people in actual print. 
 
 " For instance, there was friction among the study-fags 
 once ; and the editor wrote a descriptive account of the 
 lower school, the classes whence the fags were drawn, 
 their manners and customs, their ways of cooking 
 half-plucked sparrows and imperfectly cleaned black- 
 birds at the gas-jets on a rusty nib, and their fights over 
 sloe-jam made in a gallipot. It was, an absolutely truth- 
 ful article; but the lower school knew nothing about 
 truth, and would not even consider it as literature. 
 
 " It is less safe to write a study of an entire class than 
 to discuss individuals one by one; but apart from the 
 fact that boys throw books and inkpots very straight 
 indeed, there is surprisingly little difference between the 
 abuse of grown-up people arid the abuse of children. 
 
 "In those days the editor had not learned this; so 
 when the study below the editorial study threw coal at 
 the editorial legs, and kicked in the panels of the door, 
 because of personal paragraphs in the last number, the 
 editorial staff and there never was so loyal and hard- 
 fighting a staff fried fat bacon till there was half an 
 inch of grease in the pan, and let the greasy chunks down 
 at the end of a string to bob against and defile the lower 
 study windows. 
 
 " When the lower study and there never was a public 
 
LIFE OF RUDYARD KIPLING. XI 
 
 so low and unsympathetic as that lower study looked 
 out to see what was frosting their window-panes, the 
 editorial staff emptied the hot fat on their heads, and it 
 stayed there for days and days, wearing shiny to the 
 very last." 
 
 As far as his studies were concerned he gave little 
 promise of achieving fame. He was not brilliant in 
 mathematics, and is said to have been once "plucked" 
 in trigonometry, but in history he ranked well. When 
 he went back to India in 1883, he took with him the 
 gold medal of the college for a prize essay on England 
 and Her African Colonies, but his standing in the col- 
 lege was not high, and for some reason he did not get 
 admittance to the army. His training on the United 
 Service Chronicle in North Devon was the natural step 
 to an editorial position first on the Lahore Journal and 
 afterwards on the Civil and Military Gazette at Lahore. 
 He gives a lively and graphic description of his work on 
 this paper in the short story entitled "The Man who 
 would be King." He had to prepare telegrams for the 
 press, to provide extracts and paragraphs, to make 
 "headed articles" out of official reports, to write edi- 
 torial notes, to. look after local intelligence, and to read 
 proof s; in other words, he filled the functions of tele- 
 graph editor, exchange editor, news editor, city editor, 
 sporting editor, editorial writer, and proof-reader. 
 
 The story is told of his mission to interview a notori- 
 ous fakir, who was reported to have stirred up a great 
 religious excitement in the Punjab by having cut out his 
 tongue so as to have it grown again by the aid of the 
 goddess Pali. He did not succeed in finding the fakir, 
 but he saw much of Indian life. 
 
 When the Duke of Connaught, commander of the 
 
Xll LIFE OF RUDYAKD KIPLING. 
 
 northwestern district of India, visited the Kiplings, he 
 asked Kudyard what he was going to do in India and 
 what he would like to do. Kipling replied that he would 
 like to live with the army on the frontier and write up 
 "Tommy Atkins." 
 
 The duke granted his request and gave him every 
 facility to make the acquaintance of Danny Deever, 
 Mulvaney, and scores of other East Indian types. Many 
 of his sketches and ballads first saw the light in the 
 Gazette, the first when he was twenty-one. He had 
 already published two little volumes of verse, one called 
 "Schoolboy Lyrics," which has become so rare that a 
 copy was sold recently for 120 in London, and the other, 
 called " Echoes," published in 1885, and scarcely less rare. 
 At school he had achieved popularity as a story-teller. 
 Mr. Wilkie pictures him also in that capacity. He says : 
 " He had a flow of language when he was sure he was 
 in sympathetic company. The moment an uncongenial 
 spirit entered upon the scene he became personified glum- 
 ness. I can see him now telling a group of eager boyish 
 listeners in the hallway under the gymnasium at North 
 Devon a story of the East Indian fakirs' penances, per- 
 haps, and of a sudden becoming as silent and grave as 
 the Sphinx the moment some uncongenial boy came in. 
 He would clasp his hands in front of him, shut his lips 
 tight, and beam upon us through his glasses. He had a 
 trick of rubbing his chin when the narrative of his stories 
 flagged. Another trick in his youth was that of gestur- 
 ing with his first finger extended like a bayonet. When 
 he introduced the Hindustani dialect in his stories (and, 
 by the way, he had a very good ear for dialects and 
 brogues), he would gesticulate violently with his fore- 
 finger. He would seldom use a word not adapted to his 
 
LIFE OF RUDYARD KIPLING. Xlll 
 
 sense of fitness. He would rub his chin with his chubby 
 hand and look up through his glasses until the precise 
 word came to his mind. We chaps, however, who had 
 no idea of diction and sought only to get the plot or the 
 sensation, would grow impatient to have ' Giggsy ' pro- 
 ceed. All the lads of North Devon called him < Giggsy, 7 
 because of his large spectacles, that reminded one of 
 giglamps." 
 
 In 1885 he and various members of the Kipling family 
 contributed to a volume of short sketches entitled " The 
 Christmas Quartet " ; its price was only one rupee eight 
 annas, but it had no sale. Like most such waifs, though 
 at first there were enough of them unsold to paper 
 Lahore with, the little volume it had only 125 pages 
 is already one of the rarities of the auction-room and 
 brings the classic price of literary revenge. In 1886 
 appeared "On Her Majesty's Service Only," the first 
 series of Departmental Ditties, which was made up of 
 the ballads and other verses which he had contributed to 
 the Gazette. Sir William Hunter, Chancellor of Bombay 
 University, ventured a prediction regarding it. " This 
 book," he said, "gives promise of a new literary star 
 rising in the East." 1 It was followed two years later 
 by "Plain Tales from the Hills" and "Soldiers Three," 
 on the title-page of which were the date and place of 
 publication; but several of his works issued in Allahabad 
 in 1888 bore no date. 
 
 In 1890 Mr. Kipling left India for London by the way 
 of China and America. It is said that he vainly tried 
 to obtain newspaper work in San Francisco, and found 
 neither publisher nor friend. Afterward he included in 
 
 1 A copy was sold in London in March, 1899, for 8 7s. 6d. 
 
XIV LIFE OF RUDYARD KIPLING. 
 
 his reminiscences of America some rather sarcastic com- 
 ments on San Francisco, which he called " a mad city, 
 inhabited for the most part by perfectly insane people," 
 but he did not forget to atone for this characterization 
 by praising the beauty of their women. When he reached 
 New York he was commissioned by the New York Herald 
 to interview Mark Twain, and he accomplished it with 
 brilliant success. He also visited relatives in Boston, 
 but few who met him at that time dreamed that he would 
 within a decade become the most famous literary man of 
 the century. 
 
 While he was in New York he published " The Court- 
 ing of Dinah Shadd and Other Stories," and the follow- 
 ing year came the London reprint of the " Departmental 
 Ditties," with additions. These began to attract atten- 
 tion, and Mr. Edmund Yates of the London World, by 
 the suggestion of a friend, had him interviewed, and 
 thus began the vogue which so rapidly increased. 
 
 In 1891 he cooperated with Mr. Wolcott Balestier in 
 writing "The Naulahka," and in January, 1892, he was 
 married to Mr. Balestier's sister and built for himself a 
 house near Brattleboro, Vermont, as original and unique 
 in design as he is in genius. Here he lived, shunning 
 all notoriety, and busily engaged in producing his master- 
 pieces. Happening to be in New York, he was asked 
 by a friend whom he would like to meet at a private 
 dinner. He mentioned a few names, and the dinner 
 came off. He entertained the company with some stories 
 of Indian animal life. Mrs. Mary Mapes Dodge, who 
 was present, was delighted, and asked him to write some 
 of them out for St. Nicholas. Thus originated the 
 "Jungle Books," for which one is safe to predict immor- 
 tality. 
 
LIFE OF RUDYARD KIPLING. XV 
 
 In 1896 Mr. Kipling, having made a study of the 
 Gloucester fisherman's life, wrote " Captains Courageous." 
 In order to get into the spirit of the men he described, 
 he sailed on a fishing-smack. He stayed at a small hotel 
 in Gloucester and did not register his name. It is told 
 of him that one day he was sitting in the parlor of this 
 hotel, and some one came in and inquired of the landlady 
 if she knew where Mr. Rudyard Kipling lodged. Kip- 
 ling held his paper before his face, and apparently went 
 on reading, but did not betray his presence. The land- 
 lady said she did not know of any such person, and the 
 would-be visitor or interviewer departed none the wiser. 
 
 In 1897 he returned to England, and the following 
 year he went to Cape Town, accompanied by his family. 
 On his return he settled for a time at Rottingdean, in 
 Sussex, on the south coast of England; but in February 
 of the present year he came to New York again, and it 
 was reported that he was bound for Mexico. 
 
 But the severity of the weather and the wretched con- 
 dition of New .York streets and other causes brought on 
 an attack of pneumonia, which very nearly proved fatal. 
 The whole reading world hung with intense concern on 
 the daily bulletins issued by the doctors. The depth of 
 sympathy everywhere manifested told how wonderfully 
 unanimous was the feeling which this gifted man had 
 awakened. Crowned heads sent their messages of con- 
 dolence, and periodicals of every kind vied with one 
 another in a chorus of appreciation and eulogy. He was 
 hailed as the Poet Laureate of the English-speaking race, 
 and the sale of his works immediately progressed by 
 leaps and bounds. A few disgruntled penny-a-liners, as 
 usual, tried to pick flaws in his personality. He was 
 charged with being brusque and even churlish. But all 
 
XVI LIFE OF RUDYARD KIPLING. 
 
 decent men have respected him for his modesty, his pro- 
 test against public exploitation, his dignified simplicity; 
 and those who know him personally can match stories 
 of his generosity, his sense of humor, his genuine 
 courtesy and pleasant ways. 
 
 NATHAN HASKELL DOLE. 
 
DANNY DEEVER. 
 
 " WHAT are the bugles blowin' for?" said Files- 
 
 on-Parade. 
 
 / " To turn you out, to turn you out/' the Color- 
 Sergeant said. 
 " What makes you look so white, so white ? " 
 
 said Files-on-Parade. 
 
 " I'm dreadin' what I've got to watch," the Color- 
 Sergeant said. 
 
 For they're hangin' Danny Deever, you 
 
 can 'ear the Dead March play, 
 The regiment's in 'ollow square they're 
 
 hangin' him to-day ; 
 They've taken of his buttons off an' cut 
 
 his stripes away, 
 
 An' they're hangin' Danny Deever in the 
 mornin'. 
 
2 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS. 
 
 " What makes the rear-rank breathe so 'ard !" 
 
 said Files-on-Parade. 
 
 " It's bitter cold, it's bitter cold/' the Color-Ser- 
 geant said. 
 jf " What makes that front-rank man fall down ? " 
 
 says Files-on-Parade. 
 
 " A touch of sun, a touch of sun," the Color- 
 Sergeant said. 
 
 They are hangin' Danny Deever, they are 
 
 marchin' of 'im round, 
 They 'ave 'alted Danny Deever by 'is coffin 
 
 on the ground ; 
 An' 'e'll swing in 'arf a minute for a 
 
 sneakin', shoothV hound 
 they're hangin' Danny Deever in the 
 mornin' ! 
 
 " 'Is cot was right-'and cot to mine," said Files- 
 on-Parade. 
 
 "'E's sleepin' out an' far to-night," the Color- 
 Sergeant said. 
 
DANNY DEEVER. 3 
 
 " I've drunk 'is beer a score o' times," said Files- 
 
 on-Parade. 
 
 " 'E's drinkin' bitter beer alone/' the Color- 
 Sergeant said. 
 
 They are hangin' Danny Deever, you must 
 
 mark 'im to 'is place, 
 For 'e shot a comrade sleepin' you must 
 
 look 'im in the face ; 
 Nine 'undred of 'is county an' the regi- 
 
 ment's disgrace, 
 
 While they're hangin' Danny Deever in 
 the mornin'. 
 
 " What's that so black agin the sun ? " said Files- 
 
 on-Parade. 
 "It's Danny fightin' 'ard for life," the Color- 
 
 Sergeant said. 
 " What's that that whimpers over'ead ? " said 
 
 Files-on-Parade. 
 " It's Danny's soul that's passin' now," the Color- 
 
 Sergeant said. 
 
BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS. 
 
 For they're done with Danny Deever, you 
 can 'ear the quickstep play, 
 
 The regiment's in column, an' they're 
 marchin' us away ; 
 
 Ho ! the young 1 recruits are shakin'. an* 
 they'll want their beer to-day, 
 
 After hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'. 
 
" TOMMY.'' 
 
 " TOMMY." 
 
 I WENT into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer, 
 The publican 'e up an' sez, " We serve no red- 
 coats here." 
 
 The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' gig- 
 gled fit to die, 
 
 I outs into the street again, an' to myself sez I : 
 it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an 
 
 " Tommy go away ; " 
 But it's " Thank you Mister Atkins/' when 
 
 the band begins to play, 
 The band begins to play, my boys, the 
 
 band begins to play, 
 
 it's " Thank you, Mister Atkins," when 
 the band begins to play. 
 
 I went into a theater as sober as could be, 
 They give a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none 
 for me ; 
 
O BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS. 
 
 They sent me to the gallery or round the music-' alls, 
 But when it comes to fighting Lord ! they'll 
 shove me in the stalls. 
 
 For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' 
 
 " Tommy wait outside ; " 
 But it's " Special train for Atkins/' when 
 
 the trooper's on the tide, 
 The troopship's on the tide, my boys, etc. 
 
 makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while 
 
 you sleep 
 
 Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're star- 
 vation cheap ; 
 An' hustlin' drunken sodgers when they're goin' 
 
 large a bit 
 
 Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit. 
 Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, 
 
 an' " Tommy, 'ow's yer soul ? " 
 But it's " Thin red line of 'eroes " when 
 
 the drums begin to roll, 
 The drums begin to roll, my boys, etc. 
 
" TOMMY." 7 
 
 We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no 
 
 blackguards too. 
 But single men in bar ricks, most remarkable like 
 
 you; 
 An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy 
 
 paints, 
 
 Why, single men in barricks don't grow into 
 plaster saints. 
 
 While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, 
 
 an' Tommy fall be'ind ; " 
 But it's " Please to walk in front, sir," 
 
 when there's trouble in the wind, 
 There's trouble in the wind, my boys, etc. 
 
 You talk o 5 better food for us, an' schools, an' 
 
 fires, an' all : 
 We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us 
 
 rational. 
 Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove 
 
 it to our face 
 
 The Widow's uniform is not the soldier-man's 
 
 
 
 disgrace. 
 
8 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS. 
 
 For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, 
 
 an' " Chuck him out, the brute ! " 
 But it's " Saviour of 'is country " when 
 
 the guns begin to shoot ; 
 An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, 
 
 an' anything you please ; 
 An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool you 
 
 bet that Tommy sees ! 
 
FUZZY-WUZZY." 9 
 
 FUZZY-WUZZY." 
 
 (Soudan Expeditionary Force.) 
 
 WE'VE fought with many men acrost the seas, 
 An' some of 'em was brave an' some was not : 
 The Pay than an' the Zulu an' Burmese ; 
 
 But the Fuzzy was the finest o' the lot. 
 We never got a ha'porth's change of 'im : 
 
 'E squatted in the scrub an' 'ocked our 'orses, 
 'E cut our sentries up at Su&Jcim, 
 
 An' 'e played the cat an' banjo with our forces. 
 So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 
 
 'ome in the Sowdan ; 
 You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a 
 
 first-class fightin' man ; 
 We gives you your certifikit, an' if you 
 
 want it signed 
 
 We'll come an' 'ave a romp with you 
 whenever you're inclined. 
 
10 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS. 
 
 We took our chanst among the Kyber 'ills, 
 
 The Boers knocked us silly at a mile, 
 The Burman guv us Irriwaddy chills, 
 
 An' a Zulu impi dished us up in style : 
 But all we ever got from such as they 
 
 Was pop to what the Fuzzy made us swaller ; 
 We 'eld our bloomin' own, the papers say, 
 
 But man for man the Fuzzy knocked us 'oiler. 
 Then 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' the 
 
 missis and the kid ; 
 Our orders was to break you, an' of course 
 
 we went an' did. 
 We sloshed you with Martinis, an' it 
 
 wasn't 'ardly fair ; 
 
 But for all the odds agin you, Fuzzy-Wuz, 
 you bruk the square. 
 
 'E 'asn't got no papers of 'is own, 
 'E 'asn't got no medals nor rewards, 
 
 So we must certify the skill Vs shown 
 In usin' of 'is long two-'anded swords : 
 
" FUZZY-WUZZY." 11 
 
 When 'e's 'oppin' in an' out among the Lush 
 
 With 'is coffin-' eaded shield an' shovel-spear, 
 A 'appy day with Fuzzy on the rush 
 Will last a 'ealthy Tommy for a year. 
 
 So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' your 
 
 friends which is no more, 
 If we 'adn't lost some messmates we 
 
 would 'elp you to deplore ; 
 But give an' take's the gospel, an' we'll 
 
 call the bargain fair, 
 
 For if you 'ave lost more than us, you 
 crumpled up the square ! 
 
 'E rushes at the smoke when we let drive, 
 
 An', before we know, 'e's 'ackin' at our 'ead ; 
 'E's all 'ot sand an' ginger when alive, 
 
 An' 'e's generally shammin' when 'e's dead. 
 'E's a daisy, 'e's a ducky, 'e's a lamb ! 
 
 'E's a injia-rubber idiot on the spree, 
 'E's the on'y thing that doesn't care a damn 
 
 For the Regiment o' British Infantree. 
 
12 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS. 
 
 So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 
 
 'ome in the Sowdan ; 
 You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a 
 
 first-class fightin' man ; 
 An' 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, with your 
 
 'ayrick 'ead of 'air 
 You big black boundin' beggar for you 
 
 bruk a British square. 
 
OONTS ! 13 
 
 OONTS ! 
 
 (Northern India Transport Train.) 
 
 WOT makes the soldier's 'eart to penk, wot makes 
 
 'im to perspire ? 
 It isn't standin' up to charge or lyin' down to 
 
 fire; 
 
 But it's everlastin' waitin' on a everlastin' road 
 For the commissariat camel an' 'is commissariat 
 load. 
 
 the oontj the oont, the commissa- 
 riat oont ! 
 With 'is silly neck a-bobbin' like a basket 
 
 full o' snakes; 
 We packs 'im like a idol, an' you ought 
 
 to 'ear 'im grunt, 
 
 An' when we gets 'im loaded up 'is blessed 
 girth-rope breaks. 
 
 1 Camel : oo is pronounced like u in "bull," but by Mr. Atkins 
 to rhyme with " front." 
 
14 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS. 
 
 Wot makes the rear-guard swear so 'ard when 
 
 night is drorin' in, 
 An' every native follower is shiverin' for 'is 
 
 skin? 
 It ain't the chanst o' bein' rushed by Paythans 
 
 frum the 'ills, 
 
 It's the commissariat camel puttin' on 'is blessed 
 frills ! 
 
 ,0 the oont, the oont, the hairy scary 
 
 oont ! 
 A trippin' over tent-ropes when we've got 
 
 the night alarm ; 
 We socks 'im with a stretcher-pole an' 
 
 'eads 'im off in front, 
 An' when we've saved 'is bloomin' life 'e 
 chaws our bloomin' arm. 
 
 The orse 'e knows above a bit, the bullock's but 
 
 a fool, 
 The elephant's a gentleman, the baggage-mule's 
 
 a mule ; 
 
OONTS ! 15 
 
 But the commissariat cam-u-el, when all is said 
 
 an' done, 
 
 'E's a devil an' a ostrich an' a orphan-child in 
 one. 
 
 the oont, the oont, the Gawd-for- 
 saken oont ! 
 The 'umpy-lumpy 'ummin'-bird a-singin' 
 
 where 'e lies, 
 'E's blocked the 'ole division from the 
 
 rear-guard to the front, 
 An' when we gets 'im up again the 
 beggar goes an' dies ! 
 
 'E'll gall an' chafe an' lame an' fight ; 'e smells 
 
 most awful vile ; 
 'E'll lose 'imself forever if you let 'im stray a 
 
 mile; 
 'E s game to graze the 'ole day long an' 'owl the 
 
 'ole night through, 
 An' when 'e comes to greasy ground 5 e splits 
 
 'isself in two. 
 
16 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS. 
 
 the oont, the oont, the flopping 
 
 droppin' oont ! 
 When 'is long legs give from under an' 
 
 'is meltin' eye is dim, 
 The tribes is up be'ind us an' the tribes 
 
 is out in front, 
 It ain't no jam for Tommy, but it's kites 
 
 and crows for 'im. 
 
 So when the cruel march is done an' when the 
 
 roads is blind, 
 An' when we sees the camp in front an' 'ears the 
 
 shots be'ind, 
 then we strips 'is saddle off, and all 'is woes 
 
 is past : 
 
 'E thinks on us that used 'im so, an' gets revenge 
 at last. 
 
 the oont, the oont, the floatin', 
 
 bloatin' oont! 
 
 The late lamented camel in the water-cut 
 he lies ; 
 
OONTS ! 17 
 
 We keeps a mile behind 'im an' we keeps 
 
 a mile in front, 
 But 'e gets into the drinkin' casks, and 
 
 then o' course we dies. 
 
18 BARKACK-ROOM BALLADS. 
 
 LOOT. 
 
 / 
 
 IF you've ever stole a pheasant-egg be'ind the 
 
 keeper's back, 
 
 If you've ever snigged the washin' frum the line, 
 If you've ever crammed a gander in your bloomin' 
 
 'aversack, 
 
 You will understand this little song o' mine. 
 But the service rules are 'ard, an' frum such we 
 
 are debarred. 
 For the same with British morals does not suit 
 
 (Cornet: Toot ! -toot !) 
 Wy, they call a man a robber if 'e stuffs 'is 
 
 marchin' clobber 
 With the 
 
 (Chorus) Loo ! loo ! Lulu ! lulu ! Loo ! loo ! Loot! 
 loot! loot! 
 
 'Ow the loot ! 
 Bloomin' loot ! 
 
LOOT. 19 
 
 That's the thing to make the boys git up 
 
 an' shoot ! 
 
 It's the some with clogs an' men, 
 If you'd make 'em come again 
 Clap 'em forward with a Loo ! loo ! Lulu ! 
 
 Loot! 
 
 (ff) Whoopee ! Tear 'im, puppy ! Loo loo ! Lulu ! 
 Loot ! loot ! loot ! 
 
 If you've knocked a nigger edgeways when 'e's 
 
 thrustin' for your life, 
 You must leave 'im very careful where 'e 
 
 fell; 
 An' may thank your stars an' gaiters if you didn't 
 
 feel 'is knife 
 That you ain't told off to bury him as 
 
 well. 
 Then the sweatin' Tommies wonder as they spade 
 
 the beggars under 
 
 Why lootin' should be entered as a 
 crime ; 
 
20 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS. 
 
 So if my song you'll 'ear, I will learn you plain 
 
 an' clear 
 
 'Ow to pay yourself for fightin' overtime 
 (Chorus.} With the loot, etc. 
 
 Now remember when you're 'acking round a gilded 
 
 Burma god 
 
 That 'is eyes is very often precious stones ; 
 An' if you treat a nigger to a dose o' cleanin'- 
 
 rod 
 
 'E's like to show you everything 'e owns. 
 When 'e won't prodooce no more, pour some water 
 
 on the floor 
 Where you 'ear it answer 'ollow to the boot 
 
 (Cornet: Toot! toot!) 
 When the ground begins to sink, shove your 
 
 baynick down the chink, 
 An' you're sure to touch the 
 (Chorus.) Loo ! loo ! Lulu ! Loot ! loot ! 
 loot! 
 
 'Ow the loot, etc. 
 
LOOT. 21 
 
 When from 'ouse to 'ouse you're 'untin' you must 
 
 always work in pairs 
 
 It 'alves the gain, but safer you will find 
 For a single man gits bottled on them twisty- 
 
 wisty stairs, 
 
 An' a woman comes and dobs 'im from be'ind. 
 When you've turned 'em inside out, an' it seems 
 
 beyond a doubt 
 As if there weren't enough to dust a flute 
 
 (Cornet: Toot! toot !)- 
 Before you sling your 'ook, at the 'ouse-tops 
 
 take a look, 
 
 For it's underneath the tiles they 'ide the loot. 
 (Chorus.) Ow the loot, etc. 
 
 You can mostly square a Sergint an' a Quarter- 
 master too, 
 
 If you only take the proper way to go ; 
 I could never keep my pickin's, but I've learned 
 
 you all I knew 
 An' don't you never say I told you so. 
 
22 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS. 
 
 An' now I'll bid good-by, for I'm gettin' rather 
 
 An' I see another tunin' up to toot (Cornet: 
 
 Toot! toot!) 
 So 'ere's good-luck to those that wears the Widow's 
 
 clo'es, 
 
 An' the Devil send 'em all they want o' loot ! 
 (Chorus.} Yes, the loot, 
 Bloomin' loot. 
 
 In the tunic an' the mess-tin an' the boot ! 
 It's the same with dogs an' men, 
 If you'd make 'em come again 
 Whoop 'em forward with the Loo ! loo ! Lulu ! 
 
 Loot ! loot ! loot ! 
 
 Heeya ! Sick 'im, puppy ! Loo ! loo ! Lulu ! 
 Loot! loot! loot! 
 
SOLDIER, SOLDIER. 23 
 
 SOLDIER, SOLDIER. 
 
 " SOLDIER, soldier come from the wars, 
 
 Why don't you march with my true love ? " 
 " We're fresh from off the ship, an' 'e's maybe 
 
 give the slip, 
 
 An' you'd best go look for a new love." 
 New love ! True love ! 
 Best go look for a new love, 
 The dead they cannot rise, an' you'd better 
 
 dry your eyes, 
 An' you'd best go look for a new love. 
 
 " Soldier, soldier come from the wars, 
 What did you see o' my true love ? " 
 
 " I see 'im serve the Queen in a suit o' rifle green, 
 An' you'd best go look for a new love." 
 
 u Soldier, soldier come from the wars, 
 Did ye see no more o' my true love ? " 
 
24 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS. 
 
 " I see 'im runnin' by when the shots begun to 
 
 fly- 
 
 But you'd best go look for a new love." 
 
 " Soldier, soldier come from the wars, 
 
 Did aught take 'arm to my true love ? " 
 " I couldn't see the fight, for the smoke it lay 
 
 so white 
 An' you'd best go look for a new love." 
 
 
 " Soldier, soldier come from the wars, 
 
 I'll up an' tend to my true love ! " 
 " 'E's lying on the dead with a bullet through 
 
 'is 'ead, 
 An' you'd best go look for a new love." 
 
 " Soldier, soldier come from the wars, 
 I'll lie down an' die with my true love ! " 
 
 " The pit we dug'll 'ide 'im an' twenty men 
 
 beside 'im 
 An' you'd best go look for a new love." 
 
SOLDIER, SOLDIER. 25 
 
 " Soldier, soldier come from the wars, 
 
 Do you bring no sign from my true love ? " 
 " I briiiff a lock of 'air that 'e allus used to 
 
 o 
 
 wear, 
 An' you'd best go look for a new love." 
 
 " Soldier, soldier come from the wars, 
 
 then I know it's true I've lost my true love ! ' ? 
 " An' I tell you truth again when you've lost 
 
 the feel o' pain 
 
 You'd best take me for your true love." 
 True love ! New love ! 
 Best take 'imfor a new love. 
 The dead they cannot rise, an 9 you'd 
 
 better dry your eyes, 
 Art you'd best take 'im for your true 
 love. 
 
26 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS. 
 
 THE SONS OF THE WIDOW. 
 
 'AvE you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor 
 
 With a hairy gold crown on 'er 'ead ? 
 She 'as ships on the foam she 'as millions at 
 
 'ome, 
 An' she pays us poor beggars in red. 
 
 (Ow, poor beggars in red ! ) 
 There's 'er nick on the cavalry 'orses 
 
 There's 'er mark on the medical stores 
 An' 'er troopers you'll find with a fair wind behind 
 That takes us to various wars. 
 
 (Poor beggars ! barbarious wars ! ) 
 
 Then 'ere's to the Widow at Windsor, 
 
 An' 'ere's to the stores an' the guns, 
 
 The men 'an the 'orses what makes up the 
 
 forces 
 
 0' Missis Victorier's sons. 
 (Poor beggars ! Victorier's sons !) 
 
THE SONS OF THE WIDOW. 27 
 
 Walk wide 'o the Widow at Windsor, 
 
 For 'alf o' creation she owns : 
 We 'ave bought 'er the same with the sword an' 
 
 the flame, 
 An' we've salted it down with our bones. 
 
 (Poor beggars ! it's blue with our bones !) 
 Hands off o' the sons of the Widow, 
 Hands off o' the goods in 'er shop, 
 For the Kings must come down an' the Emperor 
 
 frown 
 
 When the Widow at Windsor says " Stop ! " 
 
 (Poor beggars ! we're sent to say " Stop ! ") 
 
 Then 'ere's to the Lodge o' the Widow, 
 
 From the Pole to the Tropics it runs 
 
 To the Lodge that we tile with the rank 
 
 an' the file, 
 
 An' open in forms with the guns. 
 (Poor beggars ! it's always them guns !) 
 
 We 'ave 'eard 'o the Widow at Windsor 
 It's safest to let 'er alone : 
 
28 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS. 
 
 For 'er sentries we stand by the sea an' the land 
 Wherever the bugles are blown. 
 
 (Poor beggars ! an' don't we get blown ! ) 
 Take 'old o' the wings o' the morning 
 
 ^Vn' flop round the earth till you're dead ; 
 But you won't get away from the tune that they 
 
 play 
 
 To the bloomin' old rag over'ead. 
 (Poor beggars ! it's 'ot over'ead !) 
 
 Then 'ere's to the sons o' the Widow, 
 
 Wherever, 'owever they roam. 
 'Ere's all they desire, an' if they re- 
 quire 
 
 A speedy return to their 'ome. 
 (Poor beggars ! they'll never see 'ome !) 
 
TROOPIN'. 29 
 
 TROOPIN'. 
 
 (Our Army in the East.) 
 
 TROOPIN', trooping troopin' to the sea : 
 
 'Ere's September come again the six-year 
 
 men are free. 
 leave the dead be'ind us, for they cannot come 
 
 away 
 
 To where the ship's a-coalin' up that takes us 
 'ome to-day. 
 
 We're goin' 'ome, we're goin' 'ome, 
 
 Our ship is at the shore, 
 
 An' you must pack your 'aversack, 
 
 For we won't come back no more. 
 
 Ho, don't you grieve for me, 
 
 My lovely Mary-Anne, 
 
 For I'll marry you yit on a fourp'ny bit 
 
 As a time-expired man. 
 
30 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS. 
 
 The Malabar* in 'arbor with the Jumner at 'er 
 
 tail, 
 An' the time-expired' s waitin' of 'is orders for to 
 
 sail. 
 the weary waitin' when on Khyber 'ills we 
 
 %> 
 But the time-expired's waitin' of 'is orders 'ome 
 
 to-day. 
 
 They'll turn us out at Portsmouth wharf in cold 
 
 an' wet an' rain. 
 All wearin' Injian cotton kit, but we will not 
 
 complain ; 
 They'll kill us of pneumonia for that's their 
 
 little way 
 But damn the chills and fever, men, we're goin' 
 
 'ome to-day ! 
 
 Troopin', troopin' winter's round again ! 
 See the new draf's pourin' in for the old cam- 
 paign ; 
 
TROOPIN'. 31 
 
 Ho, you poor recruities, but you've got to earn 
 
 your pay- 
 What's the last from Lunnon, lads ? We're 
 
 goin' there to-day. 
 
 Troopin', troopin', give another cheer 
 
 'Ere's to English women an' a quart of English 
 
 beer ; 
 The Colonel an' the regiment an' all who've got 
 
 to stay, 
 
 Gawd's mercy strike 'em gentle Whoop ! we're 
 goin' 'ome to-day. 
 
 We're goin 'ome, we're goin' 'ome, 
 
 Our ship is at the shore, 
 
 An' you must pack your 'aversack, 
 
 For we won't come back no more. 
 
 Ho, don't you grieve for me, 
 
 My lovely Mary-Anne, 
 
 For I'll marry you yit on a fourp'ny bit 
 
 As a time-expired man. 
 
32 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS. 
 
 GUNGA DIN. 
 
 The bhisti, or water-carrier, attached to regiments in India, is 
 often one of the most devoted of the Queen's servants. He is also 
 appreciated by the men. 
 
 [THIS BALLAD IS EXTENSIVELY PLAGIARIZED.] 
 
 You may talk o' gin an' beer 
 
 When you're quartered safe out 'ere, 
 
 An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot 
 
 it; 
 
 But if it comes to slaughter 
 You will do your work on water, 
 An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's 
 
 got it. 
 
 Now in Injia's sunny clime, 
 Where I used to spend my time 
 A-servin' of 'Er Majesty the Queen, 
 Of all them black-faced crew 
 The finest man I knew 
 Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din. 
 
GUNGA DIN. 33 
 
 He was " Din ! Din ! Din ! 
 
 You limping lump o' brick-dust, Gunga 
 
 Din! 
 
 Hi ! slippy hi thereto ! 
 Water, get it ! Pa/nee lao ! 1 
 You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din ! " 
 
 The uniform 'e wore 
 Was nothin' much before, 
 An' rather less than 'arf o' that be'ind, 
 For a twisty piece o' rag 
 An' a goatskin water-bag 
 Was all the field-equipment 'e could find. 
 When the sweatin' troop-train lay 
 In a sidin' through the day, 
 
 Where the 'eat would make your bloomin' eye- 
 brows crawl, 
 
 We shouted " Harry By ! " 2 
 Till our throats were bricky-dry, 
 Then we wopped 'im 'cause 'e couldn't serve us all. 
 
 1 Bring water swiftly. 
 
 2 Mr. Atkins's equivalent for " O Brother ! " 
 3 
 
34 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS. 
 
 It was " Din ! Din ! Din ! 
 
 You 'eathen, where the mischief 'ave you 
 
 been ? 
 
 You put some juldee in it, 
 Or I'll marrow you this minute i 
 If you don't fill up my helmet, Gunga. 
 
 Din!" 
 
 *E would dot an' carry one 
 
 Till the longest day was done, 
 
 An' 'e didn't seem to know the use o' fear. 
 
 If we charged or broke or cut, 
 
 You could bet your bloornin' nut, 
 
 'E'd be waitin' fifty paces right flank rear. 
 
 With 'is mussick on 'is back, 
 
 'E would skip with our attack, 
 
 An' watch us till the bugles made " Retire." 
 
 An' for all 'is dirty 'ide 
 
 3 E was white, clear white, inside 
 
 When 'e went to tend the wounded under fire ! 
 
 1 Hit you. 
 
GUNGA DIN. 35 
 
 It was " Din ! Din ! Din ! 
 
 With the bullets kickin' dust-spots on the 
 
 green. 
 
 When the cartridges ran out, 
 You could 'ear the front-files shout : 
 " Hi ! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din ! " 
 
 I sha'n't forgit the night 
 
 When I dropped be'ind the fight 
 
 With a bullet where my belt-plate should 'a' 
 
 been. 
 
 I^was chokin' mad with thirst, 
 An' the man that spied me first 
 Was our good old grinnin', gruntin' Gunga 
 
 Din. 
 
 'E lifted up my 'ead, 
 An' 'e plunged me where I bled, 
 An' 'e guv me 'arf-a-pint o' water greeny 
 It was crawlin' and it stunk, 
 But of all the drinks I've drunk, 
 I'm gratefullest to one from Gunga Din. 
 
36 BARRACK-BOOM BALLADS. 
 
 It was " Din ! Din ! Din I 
 
 'Ere's a beggar with a bullet through 'is 
 spleen ; 
 
 'E's chawin' up the ground an' 'e's kick- 
 in' all around : 
 
 For Gawd's sake git the water, Gunga 
 Din ! " 
 
 'E carried me away 
 
 To where a dooli lay, 
 
 An' a bullet come an' drilled the beggar clean. 
 
 'E put me safe inside, 
 
 An' just before 'e died : 
 
 "I 'ope you liked your drink," sez Gunga 
 
 Din. 
 
 So I'll meet 'im later on 
 In the place where 'e is gone 
 Where it's always double drill and no canteen ; 
 'Ell be squattin' on the coals 
 Givin' drink to pore damned souls, 
 An' I'll get a swig in Hell from Gunga Din ! 
 
GUNGA DIN. 37 
 
 Din! Din! Din! 
 
 You L^zarushmn^eathfirJGunga Din ! 
 Tho' I've belted you an' flayed you, 
 By the livin' Gawd that made you, 
 You're a better man than I am, Gunga 
 Din! 
 
38 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS. 
 
 MANDALAY. 
 
 BY the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward 
 
 to the sea, 
 There's a Burma girl a-settin', an' I know she 
 
 thinks 'o me ; 
 
 For the wind is in the palm-trees, an' the temple- 
 bells they say : 
 
 " Come you back, you British soldier ; come you 
 back to Mandalay ! " 
 
 Come you back to Mandalay, 
 
 Where the old Flotilla lay : 
 
 Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from 
 
 Rangoon to Mandalay ? 
 the road to Mandalay, 
 Where the flyin'-fishes play, 
 An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer 
 China 'crost the Bay ! 
 
MANDALAY. 39 
 
 'Er petticut was yaller an' 'er little cap was 
 
 green, 
 An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat jes' the same as 
 
 Theebaw's Queen, 
 An' I seed her fust a-smokin' of a whackin' white 
 
 cheroot, 
 
 An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's 
 foot : 
 
 Bloomin' idol made o' mud 
 
 Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd 
 
 Plucky lot she cared for idols when I 
 
 kissed 'er where she stud ! 
 , On the road to Mandalay 
 
 When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun 
 
 
 
 was droppin' slow, 
 # She'd git 'er little banjo an' she'd sing "Kulla- 
 
 lo-lo ! " 
 With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' her cheek 
 
 agin my cheek 
 We useter watch the steamers an' the hathis 
 
 pilin' teak. 
 
40 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS. 
 
 Elephints a-pilin' teak 
 
 In the sludgy, squdgy creek, 
 
 Where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you was 
 
 'arf afraid to speak ! 
 On the road to Mandalay 
 
 But that's all shove be'ind me long ago an' fur 
 
 away, 
 An' there ain't no 'buses runnin' from the Benk 
 
 to Mandalay ; 
 
 An' I'm learnin' 'ere in London what the ten- 
 year sodger tells : 
 
 " If you've 'eard the East a-callin', why, you won't 
 'eed nothin' else." 
 
 No ! you won't 'eed nothin' el^e 
 
 But them spicy garlic smells 
 
 An' the sunshine an' the palm-trees an' 
 
 the tinkly temple bells ! 
 On the road to Mandalay 
 
 I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gutty pavin'- 
 stones, 
 
MANDALAY. 41 
 
 An' the blasted Henglish drizzle wakes the fever 
 
 in my bones ; 
 Tho' I walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer Chelsea 
 
 to the Strand, 
 
 An' they talks a lot o' loving but wot do they 
 understand ? 
 
 Beefy face an' grubby 'and 
 
 Law ! wot do they understand ? 
 
 I've a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, 
 
 greener land ! 
 On the road to Mandalay 
 
 Ship me somewheres east of Suez where the best 
 
 is like the worst, 
 Where there aren't no Ten Commandments, an' a 
 
 man can raise a thirst ; 
 For the temple-bells are callin', an' it's there that 
 
 I would be 
 By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' lazy at the 
 
 sea 
 
 On the road to Mandalay. 
 Where the old Flotilla lay, 
 
42 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS. 
 
 With our sick beneath the awnings when 
 
 we went to Mandalay ! 
 Oh, the road to Mandalay, 
 Where the flyin'-fishes play, 
 An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer 
 
 China 'crost the Bay ! 
 
THE YOUNG BRITISH SOLDIER. 43 
 
 THE YOUNG BRITISH SOLDIER. 
 
 WHEN the 'arf-inade recruity goes out to the 
 
 East 
 
 'E acts like a babe an' 'e drinks like a beast, 
 An' 'e wonders because 'e is frequent de- 
 ceased 
 
 Ere 'e's fit for to serve as a soldier. 
 
 Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, 
 
 Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, 
 
 Serve, serve, serve as a soldier, 
 
 So-oldier hof the Queen ! 
 
 Now all you recruities what's drafted to-day, 
 You shut up your rag-box an' 'ark to my 
 
 lay, 
 
 An' I'll sing you a soldier as far as I may : 
 A soldier what's fit for a soldier.. 
 Fit, fit, fit for a soldier 
 
44 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS. 
 
 First, mind you steer clear o' the grog-sellers' huts, 
 For they sell you Fixed Bay'nets that rots out 
 
 your guts 
 
 Ay, drink that 'ud eat the live steel from your 
 butts 
 
 An' it's bad for the young British soldier. 
 Bad, bad, bad for the soldier 
 
 When the cholera comes as it will past a doubt 
 Keep out of the wet and don't go on the shout, 
 For the sickness comes in as the liquor dies 
 out, 
 
 An' it crumples the young British soldier. 
 Crum-, crum-, crumples the soldier 
 
 But the worst o' your foes is the sun over'ead ; 
 You must wear your 'elmet for all that is said. 
 If 'e finds you uncovered Vll knock you down 
 dead, 
 
 An' you'll die like a fool of a soldier. 
 Fool, fool, fool of a soldier 
 
THE YOUNG BRITISH SOLDIER. 45 
 
 If you're cast for fatigue by a sergeant unkind, 
 Don't grouse like a woman nor crack on nor 
 
 blind ; 
 Be handy and civil, and then you will find 
 
 As it's beer for the young British soldier. 
 Beer, beer, beer for the soldier 
 
 Now, if you must marry, take care she is old 
 A troop-sergeant's widow's the nicest I'm told 
 For beauty won't help if your vittles is cold, 
 An' love ain't enough for a soldier, 
 
 'Nough, 'nough, 'nough for a soldier 
 
 If the wife should go wrong with a comrade, 
 
 be loath 
 To shoot when you catch 'em you'll swing, on 
 
 my oath ! 
 
 Make 'im take 'er and keep 'er ; that's hell for 
 them both, 
 
 An' you're quit o' the curse of a soldier. 
 Curse, curse, curse of a soldier 
 
46 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS. 
 
 When first under fire an' you're wishful to 
 
 duck, 
 Don't look or take 'eed at the man that is 
 
 struck, 
 
 Be thankful you're livin' an' trust to your luck, 
 An' march to your front like a soldier. 
 Front, front, front like a soldier. 
 
 When ? arf of your bullets fly wide in the ditch, 
 Don't call your Martini a cross-eyed old bitch ; 
 She's human as you are you treat her as sich, 
 An' she'll fight for the young British sol- 
 dier. 
 Fight, fight, fight for the soldier 
 
 When shakin' their bustles like ladies so fine 
 The guns o' the enemy wheel into line ; 
 Shoot low at the limbers and don't mind the 
 shine, 
 
 For noise never startles the soldier. 
 Start-, start-, startles the soldier 
 
THE YOUNG BRITISH SOLDIER. 47 
 
 If your officer's dead and the sergeants look 
 
 white, 
 
 Remember it's ruin to run from a fight ; 
 So take open order, lie down, and sit tight, 
 An' wait for supports like a soldier. 
 Wait, wait, wait like a soldier 
 
 When you're wounded an' left on Afghanistan's 
 
 plains, 
 
 An' the women come out to cut up your re- 
 mains, 
 
 Just roll to your rifle an' blow out your brains, 
 An', go to your Gawd like a soldier : 
 Go, go, go like a soldier, 
 Go, go, go like a soldier, 
 Go, go, go like a soldier, 
 So-oldier hof the Queen. 
 
48 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS. 
 
 SCREW-GUNS. 
 
 SMOKIN' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin' the 
 
 mornin'-cool, 
 I walks in my old brown gaiters along o' my old 
 
 brown mule, 
 With seventy gunners be'ind me, an' never a 
 
 beggar forgets 
 It's only the pick o' the Army that handles the 
 
 dear little pets Tss ! Tss ! 
 
 For you all love the screw-guns the 
 
 screw-guns they all love you. 
 So when we call round with a few guns, o' 
 
 course you will know what to do 
 
 hoo ! hoo ! 
 Just send in your chief an' surrender 
 
 it's worse if you fights or you runs : 
 You can go where you please, you can skid 
 
 up the trees, but you don't get away 
 
 from the guns. 
 
SCREW-GUNS. 49 
 
 They send us along where the roads are, but 
 
 mostly we goes where they ain't ; 
 We'd climb up the side of a sign-board an' trust 
 
 to the stick o' the paint ; 
 We've chivied the Naga an' Lushai, we've give 
 
 the Afreedeeman fits, 
 For we fancies ourselves at two thousand, we 
 
 guns that are built in two bits Tss ! 
 
 Tss! 
 
 For you all love the screw-guns 
 
 If a man doesn't work, why, we drills 'im 'an 
 
 teaches 'im 'ow to be'ave ; 
 If a beggar can't march, why, we kills 'im 'an 
 
 rattles 'im into 'is grave. 
 You've got to stand up to our business an' spring 
 
 without snatchin' or fuss. 
 D' you say that you sweat with the field-guns ? 
 
 By God, you must lather with us Tss! 
 
 Tss! 
 
 For you all love the screw-guns 
 
50 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS. 
 
 The eagles is screamin' around us, the river's 
 
 amoanin' below, 
 We're clear o' the pine an' the oak-scrub, we're 
 
 out on the rocks an' the snow, 
 An' the wind is as thin as a whip-lash what 
 
 carries away to the plains 
 The rattle an' stamp o' the lead-mules 
 
 the jinglety-jink o' the chains Tss ! 
 
 Tss! 
 
 For you all love the screw-guns 
 
 There's a wheel on the Horns o' the Mornin' an* 
 a wheel on the edge o' the Pit, 
 
 An' a drop into nothin' beneath us as straight as 
 a beggar can spit ; 
 
 With the sweat runnin' out o' your shirt- 
 sleeves an' the sun off the snow in your 
 face, 
 
 An' 'arf o' the men on the drag-ropes to hold the 
 old gun in 'er place Tss ! Tss ! 
 
 For you all love the screw-guns 
 
SCREW-GUNS. 51 
 
 Smokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin' the 
 
 mornin'-cool, 
 I climb in my old brown gaiters along o' my old 
 
 brown mule. 
 The monkey can say what our road was the 
 
 wild-goat 'e knows where we passed. 
 Stand easy, you long-eared old darlin's ! Out 
 
 drag-ropes ! With shrapnel ! Hold fast ! 
 
 Tss! Tss! 
 
 For you all love the screw-guns the 
 
 screw-guns they all love you ! 
 So when we take tea with a few guns, o' 
 
 course you will know what to do 
 
 hoo ! hoo ! 
 Just send in your Chief and surrender 
 
 it's worse if you fights or you runs : 
 You may hide in the caves, they'll be 
 
 only your graves, but you don't get 
 
 away from the guns ! 
 
52 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS. 
 
 BELTS. 
 
 THERE was a row in Silver Street that's near to 
 
 Dublin Quay, 
 
 Between an Irish regiment an' English cavalree ; 
 It started at Revelly an' it lasted on till dark ; 
 The first man dropped at Harrison's, the last 
 forninst the Park. 
 
 For it was " Belts, belts, belts, an' that's 
 
 one for you ! " 
 An' it was " Belts, belts, belts, an' that's 
 
 done for yoru ! " 
 buckle an' tongue 
 Was the song that we sung 
 From Harrison's on to the Park ! 
 
 There was a row in Silver Street the regiments 
 
 was out, 
 
 They called us " Delhi Rebels," an' we answered 
 " Threes about ! " 
 
BELTS. 53 
 
 That drew them like a hornet's nest we met 
 
 them good an' large, 
 The English at the double an' the Irish at the 
 
 charge. 
 
 Then it was : Belts 
 
 There was a row in Silver Street an' I was in 
 
 it too ; 
 We passed the time o' day, an' then the belts 
 
 went whirraru ; 
 I misremember what occurred, but subsequint the 
 
 storm 
 A Freeman's Journal Supplemint was all my 
 
 uniform. 
 
 it was : * Belts 
 
 There was a row in Silver Street they sent the 
 
 Polis there, 
 The English were too drunk to know, the Irish 
 
 didn't care ; 
 
54 BARRACK-BOOM BALLADS. 
 
 But when they grew impertinint we simultaneous 
 
 rose, 
 Till half o' them was Liffey mud an' half was 
 
 tatthered clo'es. 
 
 For it was : Belts 
 
 There was a row in Silver Street it might ha' 
 
 raged till now, 
 But some one drew his side-arm clear, an' nobody 
 
 knew how; 
 'Twas Hogan took the point an' dropped; we 
 
 saw the red blood run : 
 An' so we all was murderers that started out in 
 
 fun. 
 
 While it was : Belts 
 
 There was a row in Silver Street but that took 
 
 off the shine, 
 Wid each man whishperin' to his next : " 'Twas 
 
 never work o' mine ! " 
 
BELTS. 55 
 
 We went away like beaten dogs, an' down the 
 
 street we bore him, 
 The poor dumb corpse that couldn't see the 
 
 bhoys were sorry for him. 
 When it was : Belts 
 
 There was a row in Silver Street it isn't over 
 
 yet, 
 
 For half of us are under guard wid punishmints 
 
 to get ; 
 
 'Tis all a mericle to me as in the Clink I lie ; 
 There was a row in Silver Street begod, I won- 
 der why ! 
 
 But it was " Belts, belts, belts, an' that's 
 
 one for you ! " 
 An' it was " Belts, belts, belts, an' that's 
 
 done for you ! " 
 buckle an' tongue 
 Was the song that we sung 
 From Harrison's down to the Park ! 
 
DEPAKTMENTAL DITTIES. 
 
GENERAL SUMMARY. 
 
 WE are very slightly changed 
 From the semi-apes who ranged 
 
 India's prehistoric clay ; 
 Whoso drew the longest bow, 
 Ran his brother down, you know, 
 
 As we run men down to-day. 
 
 " Dowb," the first of all his race, 
 Met the Mammoth face to face 
 
 On the lake or in the cave, 
 Stole the steadiest canoe, 
 Ate the quarry others slew, 
 
 Died and took the finest grave. 
 
 When they scratched the reindeer-bone, 
 Some one made the sketch his own, 
 
 Filched it from the artist then, 
 
 59 
 
60 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 
 
 Even in those early days, 
 Won a simple Viceroy's praise 
 Through the toil of other men. 
 
 Ere they hewed the Sphinx's visage 
 Favoritism governed kissage, 
 Even as it does in this age. 
 
 Who shall doubt the secret hid 
 Under Cheops' pyramid 
 Was that the contractor did 
 
 Cheops out of several millions ? 
 Or that Joseph's sudden rise 
 To Comptroller of Supplies 
 Was a fraud of monstrous size 
 
 On King Pharaoh's swart Civilians ? 
 
 Thus, the artless songs I sing 
 Do not deal with anything 
 
 New or never said before. 
 As it was in the beginning, 
 Is to-day official sinning, 
 
 And shall be for evermore. 
 
ARMY HEADQUARTERS. 61 
 
 ARMY HEADQUARTERS. 
 
 OLD is the song that I sing 
 
 Old as my unpaid bills 
 Old as the chicken that kitmutgars bring 
 
 Men at dak-bungalows old as the Hills. 
 
 AHASUEEUS JENKINS df the " Operatic Own " 
 Was dowered with a tenor voice of super-S&utley 
 
 tone. 
 His views on equitation were, perhaps, a trifle 
 
 queer ; 
 He had no seat worth mentioning, but oh ! he 
 
 had an ear. 
 
 He clubbed his wretched company a dozen times 
 
 a day, 
 
 He used to quit his charger in a parabolic way, 
 His method of saluting was the joy of all 
 
 beholders, 
 But Ahasuerus Jenkins had a head upon his 
 
 shoulders. 
 
62 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 
 
 He took two months to Simla when the year was 
 
 at the spring, 
 
 And underneath the deodars eternally did sing. 
 He warbled like a bulbul, but particularly at 
 Cornelia Agrippina who was musical and fat. 
 
 She controlled a humble husband, who, in turn, 
 
 controlled a Dept., 
 Where Cornelia Agrippina's human singing-birds 
 
 were kept 
 
 From April to October on a plump retaining fee, 
 Supplied, of course, per mensem, by the Indian 
 
 Treasury. 
 Cornelia used to sing with him, and Jenkins used 
 
 to play ; 
 He praised unblushingly her notes, for he was 
 
 false as they : 
 So when the winds of April turned the budding 
 
 roses brown, 
 Cornelia told her husband : " Tom, you mustn't 
 
 send him down." 
 
ARMY HEADQUARTERS. 63 
 
 They haled him from his regiment which didn't 
 
 much regret him ; 
 They found for him an office-stool, and on that 
 
 stool they set him, 
 To play with maps and catalogues three idle 
 
 hours a day, 
 And draw his plump retaining fee which means 
 
 his double pay. 
 
 Now, ever after dinner, when the coffee-cups are 
 
 brought, 
 
 Ahasuerus waileth o'er the grand pianoforte ; 
 And, thanks to fair Cornelia, his fame hath 
 
 waxen great, 
 And Ahasuerus Jenkins is a power in the State. 
 
64 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 
 
 STUDY OF AN ELEVATION, IN INDIAN 
 INK. 
 
 This ditty is a string of lies. 
 
 But how the deuce did Gubbins rise ? 
 
 POTIPHAR GUBBINS, C. E., 
 Stands at the top of the tree ; 
 And I muse in my bed on the reasons that led 
 To the hoisting of Potiphar G. 
 
 Potiphar Gubbins, C. E., 
 Is seven years junior to Me ; 
 Each bridge that he makes he either buckles or 
 breaks, 
 
 And his work is as rough as he. 
 
 Potiphar Gubbins, C. E., 
 Is coarse as a chimpanzee ; 
 
 And I can't understand why you gave him your 
 hand, 
 
 Lovely Mehitabel Lee. 
 
STUDY OF AN ELEVATION, IN INDIAN INK. 65 
 
 Potiphar Gubbins, C. E., 
 Is dear to the Powers that Be ; 
 For They bow and They smile in an affable style 
 Which is seldom accorded to Me. 
 
 Potiphar Gubbins, C. E., 
 Is certain as certain can be 
 
 Of a highly-paid post which is claimed by a host 
 Of seniors including Me. 
 
 Careless and lazy is he, 
 Greatly inferior to Me. 
 What is the spell that you manage so well, 
 Commonplace Potiphar G. ? 
 
 Lovely Mehitabel Lee, 
 Let me inquire of thee, 
 Should I have riz to what Potiphar is, 
 
 Hadst thou been mated to Me ? 
 
 5 
 
66 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE FOREIGN OFFICE. 
 
 This is the reason why Rustum Beg, 
 
 Rajah of Kolazai, 
 Drinketh the " simpkin " and brandy peg, 
 
 Maketh the money to fly, 
 Vexeth a Government, tender and kind, 
 Also but this is a detail blind. 
 
 RUSTUM BEG of Kolazai slightly backward 
 
 native state 
 
 Lusted for a C. S. I., so began to sanitate. 
 Built a Jail and Hospital nearly built a City 
 
 drain 
 Till his faithful subjects all thought their ruler 
 
 was insane. 
 
 Strange departures made he then yea. Depart- 
 ments stranger still, 
 
 Half a dozen Englishmen helped the Rajah with 
 a will, 
 
A LEGEND OF THE FOREIGN OFFICE. 67 
 
 Talked of noble aims and high, hinted of a 
 
 future fine 
 For the state of Kolazai, on a strictly Western line. 
 
 Rajah Rustum held his peace ; lowered octroi 
 
 dues a half ; 
 
 Organized a State Police ; purified the Civil Staff ; 
 Settled cess and tax afresh in a very liberal way ; 
 Cut temptations of the flesh also cut the 
 
 Bukhshi's pay ; 
 
 Roused his Secretariat to a fine Mahratta fury, 
 
 By a Hookum hinting at supervision of dasturi ; 
 
 Turned the State of Kolazai very nearly upside- 
 down ; 
 
 When the end of May was nigh, waited his 
 achievement crown. 
 
 Then the Birthday Honors came. Sad to state 
 and sad to see, 
 
 Stood against the Rajah's name nothing more 
 than C. I. E. ! 
 
68 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 
 
 Things were lively for a week in the State of 
 
 Kolazai. 
 Even now the people speak of that time regret- 
 
 fully. 
 
 How he disendowed the Jail stopped at once 
 the City drain ; 
 
 Turned to beauty fair and frail got his senses 
 back again ; 
 
 Double taxes, cesses, all ; cleared away each new- 
 built thana ; 
 
 Turned the two-lakh Hospital into a superb 
 Zenana ; 
 
 Heaped upon the Bukhshi Sahib wealth and 
 honors manifold ; 
 
 Clad himself in Eastern garb squeezed his peo- 
 ple as of old. 
 
 Happy, happy Kolazai ! Never more will Rustum 
 
 Play to catch the Viceroy's eye. He prefers the 
 " simpkin " peg. 
 
THE STORY OF URIAH. 69 
 
 THE STORY OF URIAH. 
 
 " Now there were two men in one city ; the one rich and 
 the other poor." 
 
 JACK BARRETT went to Quetta 
 
 Because they told him to. 
 He left his wife at Simla 
 
 On three-fourths his monthly screw : 
 Jack Barrett died at Quetta 
 
 Ere the next month's pay he drew. 
 
 Jack Barrett went to Quetta. 
 
 9 
 
 He didn't understand 
 The reason of his transfer 
 
 From the pleasant mountain-land : 
 The season was September, 
 
 And it killed him out of hand. 
 
 Jack Barrett went to Quetta, 
 And there gave up the ghost, 
 
70 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 
 
 Attempting two men's duty 
 In that very healthy post ; 
 
 And Mrs. Barrett mourned for him 
 Five lively months at most. 
 
 Jack Barrett's bones at Quetta 
 
 Enjoy profound repose ; 
 But I shouldn't be astonished 
 
 If now his spirit knows 
 The reason of his transfer 
 
 From the Himalayan snows. 
 
 And, when the Last Great Bugle Call 
 
 Adown the Hurnai throbs, 
 When the last grim joke is entered 
 
 In the big black Book of Jobs, 
 And Quetta graveyards give again 
 
 Their victims to the air, 
 I shouldn't like to be the man 
 
 Who sent Jack Barrett there. 
 
THE POST THAT FITTED. 71 
 
 THE POST THAT FITTED. 
 
 Though tangled and twisted the course of true love, 
 
 This ditty explains 
 No tangle's so tangled it cannot improve 
 
 If the Lover has brains. 
 
 ERE the steamer bore him Eastward, Sleary was 
 
 engaged to marry 
 An attractive girl at Tunbridge, whom he called 
 
 " my little Carrie." 
 Sleary's pay was very modest ; Sleary was the 
 
 other way. 
 Who can cook a two-plate dinner on eight paltry 
 
 dibs a day ? 
 
 Long he pondered o'er the question in his scantly 
 
 furnished quarters 
 Then proposed to Minnie Boffkin, eldest of Judge 
 
 Boffkin's daughters. 
 
72 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 
 
 Certainly an impecunious Subaltern was not a 
 
 catch, 
 But the B off kins knew that Minnie mightn't make 
 
 another match. 
 
 So they recognized the business, and, to feed and 
 
 clothe the bride, 
 Got him made a Something Something somewhere 
 
 on the Bombay side. 
 Anyhow, the billet carried pay enough for him 
 
 to marry 
 As the artless Sleary put it: u Just the thing 
 
 for me and Carrie." 
 
 Did he, therefore, jilt Miss B off kin impulse of 
 
 a baser mind ? 
 
 No ! He started epileptic fits of an appalling kind. 
 (Of his modus operandi only this much I could 
 
 gather : 
 " Pears' shaving sticks will give you little taste 
 
 and lots of lather.") 
 
THE POST THAT FITTED. 73 
 
 Frequently in public places his affliction used to 
 
 smite 
 Sleary with distressing vigor always in the 
 
 B off kins' sight. 
 Ere a week was over Minnie weepingly returned 
 
 his ring, 
 Told him his " unhappy weakness " stopped all 
 
 thought of marrying. 
 
 Sleary bore the information with a chastened 
 
 holy joy, 
 
 Epileptic fits don't matter in Political employ, 
 Wired three short words to Carrie took his 
 
 ticket, packed his kit 
 Bade farewell to Minnie Boffkin in one last, 
 
 long, lingering fit. 
 
 Four weeks later, Carrie Sleary read and laughed 
 
 until she wept 
 Mrs. Boffkin's warning letter on the " wretched 
 
 epilept." 
 
74 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 
 
 Year by year, in pious patience, vengeful Mrs. 
 
 Boffkin sits 
 Waiting for the Sleary babies to develop Sleary's 
 
 fits. 
 
PUBLIC WASTE. 75 
 
 PUBLIC WASTE. 
 
 Walpole talks of " a man and his price," 
 
 List to a ditty queer 
 The sale of a Deputy- Acting-Vice- 
 
 Resident-Engineer, 
 Bought like a bullock, hoof and hide, 
 By the Little Tin Gods on the Mountain Side. 
 
 BY the laws of the Family Circle 'tis written in 
 letters of brass " 
 
 That only a Colonel from Chatham can manage 
 the Railways of State, 
 
 Because of the gold on his breeks, and the sub- 
 jects wherein he must pass ; 
 
 Because in all matters that deal not with Rail- 
 ways his knowledge is great. 
 
 Now Exeter Battleby Tring had labored from 
 
 boyhood to eld 
 On the Lines of the East and the West, and eke 
 
 of the North and South ; 
 
76 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 
 
 Many Lines had lie built and surveyed impor- 
 tant the posts which he held ; 
 
 And the Lords of the Iron Horse were dumb 
 when he opened his mouth. 
 
 Black as the raven his garb, and his heresies 
 
 jettier still 
 Hinting that Railways required lifetimes of study 
 
 and knowledge ; 
 Never clanked sword by his side Vauban he 
 
 knew not, nor drill 
 Nor was his name on the list of the men who had 
 
 passed through the " College." 
 
 Wherefore the Little Tin Gods harried their 
 
 little tin souls, 
 Seeing he came not from Chatham, jingled no 
 
 spurs at his heels, 
 Knowing that, nevertheless, was he first on the 
 
 Government rolls 
 For the billet of " Railway Instructor to Little 
 
 Tin Gods on Wheels." 
 
PUBLIC WASTE. 77 
 
 Letters not seldom they wrote him, " having the 
 
 honor to state/' 
 It would be better for all men if he were laid on 
 
 the shelf : 
 Much would accrue to his bank-book, and he 
 
 consented to wait 
 Until the Little Tin Gods built him a berth for 
 
 himself. 
 
 " Special, well paid, and exempt from the Law of 
 
 the Fifty and Five, 
 Even to Ninety and Nine " these were the 
 
 terms of the pact : 
 Thus did the Little Tin Gods (long may Their 
 
 Highnesses thrive !) 
 Silence his mouth with rupees, keeping their 
 
 Circle intact ; 
 
 Appointing a Colonel from Chatham who man- 
 aged the Bhamo State Line, 
 
 (The which was one mile and one furlong a 
 guaranteed twenty-inch gauge). 
 
78 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 
 
 So Exeter Battleby Tring consented his claims to 
 
 resign, 
 And died, on four thousand a month, in the 
 
 ninetieth year of his age. 
 
DELILAH. 79 
 
 DELILAH. 
 
 We have another Viceroy now, those days are dead and done, 
 Of Delilah Aberyswith and depraved Ulysses Gunne. 
 
 DELILAH ABERYSWITH was a lady not too 
 young 
 
 With a perfect taste in dresses, and a badly- 
 bitted tongue, 
 
 With a thirst for information, and a greater 
 thirst for praise, 
 
 And a little house in Simla, in the Prehistoric 
 Days. 
 
 By reason of her marriage to a gentleman in 
 
 power, 
 Delilah was acquainted with the gossip of the 
 
 hour ; 
 
 And many little secrets, of a half-official kind, 
 Were whispered to Delilah, and she bore them 
 
 all in mind. 
 
80 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 
 
 She patronized extensively a man ; Ulysses 
 
 Gunne, 
 Whose mode of earning money was a low and 
 
 shameful one. 
 He wrote for divers papers, which, as everybody 
 
 knows, 
 Is worse than serving in a shop or scaring off 
 
 the crows. 
 
 He praised her " queenly beauty " first ; and^ 
 
 later on, he hinted 
 At the " vastness of her intellect " with compli- 
 
 ment unstinted. 
 He went with her a-riding, and his love for her 
 
 was such 
 That he lent her all his horses, and she galled 
 
 them very much. 
 
 One day, THEY brewed a secret of a fine financial 
 
 sort; 
 It related to Appointments, to a Man and a 
 
 Report. 
 
DELILAH. 81 
 
 'Twas almost worth the keeping (only seven peo- 
 ple knew it), 
 
 And Gunne rose up to seek the truth and 
 patiently ensue it. 
 
 It was a Viceroy's Secret, but perhaps the w r ine 
 
 was red 
 Perhaps an Aged Councilor had lost his aged 
 
 head 
 Perhaps Delilah's eyes were bright Delilah's 
 
 whispers sweet 
 The Aged Member told her what 'twere treason 
 
 to repeat. 
 
 Ulysses went a-riding, and they talked of love 
 
 and flowers ; 
 Ulysses went a-calling, and he called for several 
 
 hours ; 
 Ulysses went a-waltzing, and Delilah helped him 
 
 dance 
 Ulysses let the waltzes go, and waited for his 
 
 chance. 
 6 
 
82 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 
 
 The summer sun was setting, and the summer air 
 was still, 
 
 The couple went a-walking in the shade of Sum- 
 mer Hill, 
 
 The wasteful sunset faded out in turkis-green and 
 gold, 
 
 Ulysses pleaded softly, and . . . that bad Delilah 
 told! 
 
 Next morn, a startled Empire learnt the all- 
 important news ; 
 
 Next week, the Aged Councilor was shaking in 
 his shoes ; 
 
 Next month, I met Delilah, and she did not show 
 the least 
 
 Hesitation in affirming that Ulysses was a 
 " beast." 
 
 We have another Viceroy now, those days are 
 
 dead and done, 
 Of Delilah Aberyswith and most mean Ulysses 
 
 Gunne ! 
 
WHAT HAPPENED. 83 
 
 WHAT HAPPENED. 
 
 HURREE CHUKDER MOOKERJEE, pride of Bow 
 
 Bazar, 
 
 Owner of a native press, " Barrishter-at-Lar," 
 Waited on the Government with a claim to wear 
 Sabers by the bucketful, rifles by the pair. 
 
 Then the Indian Government winked a wicked 
 
 wink, 
 Said to Chunder Mookerjee : " Stick to pen and 
 
 ink, 
 
 They are safer implements ; but, if you insist, 
 We will let you carry arms wheresoe'er you 
 
 list." 
 
 Hurree Chunder Mookerjee sought the gunsmith 
 
 and 
 Bought the tuber of Lancaster, Ballard, Dean, 
 
 and Bland, 
 
84 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 
 
 Bought a shiny bowie-knife, bought a town-made 
 
 sword. 
 Jingled like a carriage-horse when he went 
 
 abroad. 
 
 But the Indian Government, always keen to 
 
 V. 
 
 please, 
 
 Also gave permission to horrid men like these 
 Yar Mahommed Yusufzai, down to kill or 
 
 steal, 
 Chimbu Singh from Bikaneer, Tantia the Bhil. 
 
 Killar Khan the Marri chief, Jowar Singh the 
 
 Sikh, 
 
 Nubbee Baksh Punjabi Jat, Abdul Huq Rafiq 
 He was a Wahabi ; last, little Boh Hla-oo 
 Took advantage of the act took a Snider too. 
 
 They were unenlightened men, Ballard knew 
 
 them not, 
 They procured their swords and guns chiefly on 
 
 the spot, 
 
WHAT HAPPENED. 85 
 
 And the lore of centuries, plus a hundred fights, 
 Made them slow to disregard one another's rights. 
 
 With a unanimity dear to patriot hearts 
 
 All those hairy gentlemen out of foreign parts 
 
 Said : " The good old days are back let us go 
 
 to war ! " 
 Swaggered down the Grand Trunk Road, into 
 
 Bow Bazar. 
 
 Nubbee Baksh Punjabi Jat found a hide-bound 
 
 flail, 
 Chimbu Singh from Bikaneer oiled his Tonk 
 
 jezail, 
 Yar Mahommed Yusufzai spat and grinned with 
 
 glee 
 As he ground the butcher-knife of the Khyberee. 
 
 Jowar Singh the Sikh procured saber, quoit, and 
 
 mace, 
 Abdul Huq, Wahabi, took the dagger from its 
 
 place, 
 
86 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 
 
 While amid the jungle-grass danced and grinned 
 
 and jabbered 
 Little Boh Hla-oo and cleared the dah-blade from 
 
 the scabbard. 
 
 What became of Mookerjee ? Soothly, who can 
 
 say? 
 
 Yar Mahommed only grins in a nasty way, 
 Jowar Singh is reticent, Chimbu Singh is mute, 
 But the belts of them all simply bulge with loot. 
 
 What became of Ballard's guns ? Afghans black 
 
 and grubby 
 Sell them for their silver weight to the men of 
 
 Pubbi ; 
 And the shiny bowie-knife and the town-made 
 
 sword are 
 Hanging in a Marri camp just across the Border. 
 
 What became of Mookerjee ? Ask Mahommed 
 
 Yar 
 Prodding Siva's sacred bull down the Bow Bazar. 
 
WHAT HAPPENED. 87 
 
 Speak to placid Nubbee Baksh question land 
 
 and sea 
 Ask the Indian Congress men only don't ask 
 
 me ! 
 
88 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 
 
 PINK DOMINOES. 
 
 " They are fools who kiss and tell " 
 Wisely has the poet sung. 
 Man may hold all sorts of posts 
 If he'll only hold his tongue. 
 
 JENNY and Me were engaged, you see, 
 
 On the eve of the Fancy Ball; 
 So a kiss or two was nothing to you 
 
 Or any one else at all. 
 
 Jenny would go in a domino 
 
 Pretty and pink but warm ; 
 While I attended, clad in a splendid 
 
 Austrian uniform. 
 
 Now we had arranged, through notes exchanged 
 
 Early that afternoon, 
 At Number Four to waltz no more, 
 
 But to sit in the dusk and spoon. 
 
PINK DOMINOES. 89 
 
 (I wish you to see that Jenny and Me 
 
 Had barely exchanged our troth ; 
 So a kiss or two was strictly due 
 
 By, from, and between us both.) 
 
 When Three was over, an eager lover, 
 
 I fled to the gloom outside ; 
 And a Domino came out also 
 
 Whom I took for my future bride. 
 
 That is to say, in a casual way, 
 
 I slipped my arm around her ; 
 With a kiss or two (which is nothing to you), 
 
 And ready to kiss I found her. 
 
 She turned her head, and the name she said 
 Was certainly not my own ; 
 
 But ere I could speak, with a smothered shriek 
 She fled and left me alone. 
 
 Then Jenny came, and I saw with shame 
 She'd doffed her domino ; 
 
90 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 
 
 And I had embraced an alien waist 
 But I did not tell her so. 
 
 Next morn I knew that there were two 
 
 Dominoes pink, and one 
 Had cloaked the spouse of Sir Julian Vouse, 
 
 Our big political gun. 
 
 Sir J. was old, and her hair was gold, 
 
 And her eye was a blue cerulean ; 
 And the name she said when she turned her 
 head 
 
 Was not in the least like " Julian." 
 
 Now wasn't it nice, when want of pice J^T^f c 
 
 .. ' l 
 
 Forbade us twain to marry, 
 
 That old Sir J., in the kindest way, 
 Made me his Secretary ? 
 
THE MAN WHO COULD WRITE. 91 
 
 THE MAN WHO COULD WRITE. 
 
 Shun shun the Bowl ! That fatal, facile drink 
 Has ruined many geese who dipped their quills in't, 
 
 Bribe, murder, marry, but steer clear of Ink 
 Save when you write receipts for paid-up bills in't. 
 
 There may be silver in the " blue-black " all 
 
 I know of is the iron and the gall. 
 
 BOANERGES BLITZEN, servant of the Queen, 
 Is a dismal failure is a Might-have-been. 
 In a luckless moment he discovered men 
 Rise to high position through a ready pen. 
 
 Boanerges Blitzen argued, therefore : " I 
 With the selfsame weapon can attain as high." 
 Only he did not possess, when he made the trial, 
 Wicked wit of C-lv-n, irony of L 1. 
 
 (Men who spar with Government need, to back 
 
 their blows, 
 Something more than ordinary journalistic prose.) 
 
92 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 
 
 Never young Civilian's prospects were so bright, 
 Till an Indian paper found that he could write : 
 Never young Civilian's prospects were so dark, 
 When the wretched Blitzen wrote to make his 
 mark. 
 
 Certainly he scored it, bold and black and firm, 
 In that Indian paper made his seniors squirm, 
 Quoted office scandals, wrote the tactless truth 
 Was there ever known a more misguided youth ? 
 
 When the Rag he wrote for praised his plucky 
 
 game, 
 
 Boanerges Blitzen felt that this was Fame : 
 When the men he wrote of shook their heads 
 
 and swore, 
 Boanerges Blitzen only wrote the more. 
 
 Posed as Young Ithuriel, resolute and grim, 
 Till he found promotion didn't come to him ; 
 Till he found that reprimands weekly were his lot, 
 And his many Districts curiously hot. 
 
THE MAN WHO COULD WRITE. 93 
 
 Till he found his furlough strangely hard to win, 
 
 Boanerges Blitzen didn't care a pin : 
 
 Then it seemed to dawn on him something 
 
 wasn't right 
 Boanerges Blitzen put it down to " spite." 
 
 Languished in a District desolate and dry ; 
 Watched the Local Government yearly pass him 
 
 by; 
 
 Wondered where the hitch was ; called it most 
 unfair. 
 
 That was seven years ago and he still is there. 
 
94 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 
 
 MUNICIPAL. 
 
 " Why is my District death-rate low?" 
 
 Said Binks of Hezabad. 
 "Wells, drains, and sewage-outfalls are 
 
 My own peculiar fad. 
 I learnt a lesson once. It ran 
 " Thus," quoth that most veracious man : 
 
 IT was an August evening, and, in snowy gar- 
 ments clad, 
 
 I paid a round of visits in the lines of Heza- 
 bad; 
 
 When, presently, my Waler saw, and did not like 
 at all, 
 
 A Commissariat elephant careering down the Mall. 
 
 I couldn't see the driver, and across my mind it 
 
 rushed 
 That that Commissariat elephant had ^suddenly 
 
 gone musth. 
 
MUNICIPAL. 95 
 
 I didn't care to meet him, and I couldn't well get 
 
 down, 
 So I let the Waler have it, and we headed for the 
 
 town. 
 
 The buggy was a new one, and, praise Dykes, it 
 stood the strain, 
 
 Till the Waler jumped a bullock just above the 
 City Drain ; 
 
 And the next that I remember was a hurricane 
 o squeals, 
 
 And the creature making toothpicks of my five- 
 foot patent wheels. 
 
 He seemed to want the owner, so I fled, distraught 
 with fear, 
 
 To the Main Drain sewage-outfall while he snorted 
 in my ear 
 
 Reached the four-foot drain-head safely, and, in 
 darkness and despair, 
 
 Pelt the brute's proboscis fingering my terror- 
 stiffened hair. 
 
96 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 
 
 Heard it trumpet on my shoulder tried to crawl 
 a little higher 
 
 Found the Main Drain sewage-outfall blocked, 
 some eight feet up, with mire ; 
 
 And, for twenty reeking minutes, Sir, my very 
 marrow froze, 
 
 While the trunk was feeling blindly for a pur- 
 chase on my toes ! 
 
 It missed me by a fraction, but my hair was 
 
 turning gray 
 Before they called the drivers up and dragged 
 
 the brute away. 
 Then I sought the City Elders, and my words 
 
 were very plain. 
 They flushed that four-foot drain-head, and it 
 
 never choked again. 
 
 You may hold with surface-drainage, and the 
 
 sun-for-garbage cure, 
 Till you've been a periwinkle shrinking coyly up 
 
 a sewer. 
 
MUNICIPAL. 97 
 
 / believe in well-flushed culverts .... 
 
 This is why the death-rate's small; 
 And, if you don't believe me, get shikarred 
 yourself. That's all. 
 
 7 
 
98 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 
 
 A CODE OF MORALS. 
 
 Lest you should think this story true, 
 I merely mention I 
 Evolved it lately. Tis a most 
 Unmitigated misstatement. 
 
 Now Jones had left his new-wed bride to keep 
 
 his house in order. 
 And hied away to the Hurrum Hills above the 
 
 Afghan border, 
 To sit on a rock with a heliograph ; but ere he 
 
 left he taught 
 His wife the working of the Code that sets the 
 
 miles at naught. 
 
 And Love had made him very sage, as Nature 
 
 made her fair ; 
 So Cupid and Apollo linked, per heliograph, the 
 
 pair. 
 
A CODE OF MORALS. 99 
 
 At dawn, across the Hurrum Hills, he flashed her 
 
 counsel wise 
 At e'en the dying sunset bore her husband's 
 
 homilies. 
 
 He warned her 'gainst seductive youths in scarlet 
 
 clad and gold, 
 As much as 'gainst the blandishments paternal of 
 
 the old ; 
 But kept his gravest warnings for (hereby the 
 
 ditty hangs) 
 That snowy-haired Lothario, Lieutenant-General 
 
 Bangs. 
 
 'Twas General Bangs, with Aide and Staff, that 
 
 tittupped on the way, 
 When they beheld a heliograph tempestuously at 
 
 They thought of Border risings, and of stations 
 
 sacked and burnt 
 So stopped to take the message down and this 
 
 is what they learnt : 
 
100 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 
 
 " Dash dot dot, dot, dot dash, dot dash dot " 
 
 twice. The General swore. 
 " Was ever General Officer addressed as ' dear ' 
 
 before ? 
 "< My Love/ i' faith! <My Duck/ Gadzooks ! 
 
 ' My darling popsy-wop ! ' 
 Spirit of great Lord Wolseley, who is on that 
 
 mountain top ? " 
 
 The artless Aide-de-camp was mute ; the gilded 
 Staff were still, 
 
 As, dumb with pent-up mirth, they booked that 
 message from the hill ; 
 
 For, clear as summer's lightning flare, the hus- 
 band's warning ran : 
 
 " Don't dance or ride with General Bangs a 
 most immoral man." 
 
 (At dawn, across the Hurrum Hills, he flashed 
 
 her counsel wise 
 But, howsoever Love be blind, the world at large 
 
 hath eyes.) 
 
A CODE 6F ,M0R4J^.' ; 101, 
 
 With damnatory dot and dash he heliographed 
 
 his wife 
 Some interesting details of the General's private 
 
 life. 
 
 The artless Aide-de-camp was mute ; the shining 
 
 Staff were still, 
 And red and ever redder grew the General's 
 
 shaven gill. 
 And this is what he said at last (his feelings 
 
 matter not) : 
 " I think we've tapped a private line. ' Hi ! 
 
 Threes about there ! Trot ! " 
 
 All honor unto Bangs, for ne'er did Jones there- 
 after know 
 
 By word or act official who read off that helio. ; 
 
 But the tale is on the Frontier, and from Michni 
 to Moolfcm 
 
 They know the worthy General as " that most 
 immoral man." 
 
DITTIES. 
 
 THE LAST DEPARTMENT. 
 
 Twelve hundred million men are spread 
 
 About this Earth, and I and You 
 Wonder, when You and I are dead, 
 
 What will those luckless millions do ? 
 
 " NONE whole or clean/' we cry, " or free from 
 
 stain 
 Of favor." Wait awhile, till we attain 
 
 The Last Department, where nor fraud nor fools, 
 Nor grade nor greed, shall trouble us again. 
 
 Fear, Favor, or Affection what are these 
 To the grim Head who claims our services? 
 
 I never knew a wife or interest yet 
 Delay that pukka step, miscalled " decease ; " 
 
 When leave, long over-due, none can deny ; 
 When idleness of all Eternity 
 
 Becomes our furlough, and the marigold 
 Our thriftless, bullion-minting Treasury. 
 
THE LAST DEPARTMENT. 103 
 
 Transferred to the Eternal Settlement, 
 Each in his strait, wood-scantled office pent, 
 
 No longer Brown reverses Smith's appeals, 
 Or Jones records his Minute of Dissent. 
 
 And One, long since a pillar of the Court, 
 As mud between the beams thereof is wrought ; 
 And One who wrote on phosphates for the 
 
 crops. 
 Is subject-matter of his own Report. 
 
 (These be the glorious ends whereto we pass 
 Let Him who Is, go call on Him who Was ; 
 And He shall . see the mallie steals the 
 
 slab 
 For currie-grJnder, and for goats the grass.) 
 
 A breath of wind, a Border bullet's flight 
 A draught of water, or a horse's fright 
 
 The droning of the fat Sheristadar 
 Ceases, the punkah stops, and falls the night 
 
104 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 
 
 For you or Me. Do those who live decline 
 The step that offers, or their work resign ? 
 Trust me. To-day's Most Indispensables, 
 Five hundred men can take your place or mine. 
 
 
OTHER VERSES. 
 
TO THE UNKNOWN GODDESS. 
 
 WILL you conquer my heart with your beauty ; 
 
 my soul going out from afar ? 
 Shall I fall to your hand as a victim of crafty 
 
 and cautious shikar ? 
 
 Have I met you and passed you already, unknow- 
 ing, unthinking and blind ? 
 
 Shall I meet you next session at Simla, sweetest 
 and best of your kind ? 
 
 Does the P. and 0. bear yon to me-ward, or, clad 
 
 in sh^rt frocks in the West, 
 Are you growing the charms that shall capture 
 
 and torture the heart in my breast ? 
 
 Will you stay in the Plains till September my 
 
 passion as warm as the day ? 
 Will you bring me to book on the Mountains, or 
 
 where the thermantidotes play ? 
 
 107 
 
108 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 When the light of your eyes shall make pallid 
 
 the mean lesser lights I pursue, 
 And the charm of your presence shall lure me 
 
 from love of the gay " thirteen-two ; " 
 
 When the peg and the pig-skin shall please not ; 
 when I buy me Calcutta-built clothes ; 
 
 When I quit the Delight of Wild Asses ; for- 
 swearing the swearing of oaths ; 
 
 As a deer to the hand of the hunter when I turn 
 
 'mid the gibes of my friends ; 
 When the days of my freedom are numbered, 
 
 and the life of the bachelor ends. 
 
 Ah Goddess ! child, spinster, or widow as of old 
 
 on Mars Hill when they raised 
 To the God that they knew not an altar so I, a 
 
 young Pagan, have praised 
 
TO THE UNKNOWN GODDESS. 109 
 
 The Goddess I know not nor worship ; yet, if 
 
 half that men tell me be true, 
 You will come in the future, and therefore these 
 
 verses are written to you. 
 
110 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 THE RUPAIYAT OF OMAR KAL'VIN. 
 
 [Allowing for the difierence 'twixt prose and rhymed exagger- 
 ation, this ought to reproduce the sense of what Sir A told 
 
 the nation some time ago, when the Government struck from our 
 incomes two per cent.] 
 
 Now the New Year, reviving last Year's Debt, 
 The Thoughtful Fisher casteth wide his Net ; 
 So I with begging Dish and ready Tongue 
 Assail all Men for all that I can get. 
 
 Imports indeed are gone with all their Dues 
 Lo ! Salt a Lever that I dare not use, 
 
 Nor may I ask the Tillers in Bengal 
 Surely my Kith and Kin will not refuse ! 
 
 Pay and I promise by the Dust of Spring, 
 Retrenchment. If my promises can bring 
 
 Comfort, Ye have Them now a thousand-fold 
 By Allah ! I will promise Anything ! 
 
THE RUPAIYAT OF OMAR KAI/VIN. Ill 
 
 Indeed, indeed. Retrenchment oft before 
 I swore but did I mean it when I swore ? 
 
 And then, and then, We wandered to the 
 
 Hills, 
 And so the Little Less became Much More. 
 
 Whether at Boileaugunge or Babylon, 
 
 I know not how the wretched Thing is done, 
 
 The Items of Receipt grow surely small ; 
 The Items of Expense mount one by one. 
 
 I cannot help it. What have I to do 
 With One and Five, or Four, or Three, or Two ? 
 Let Scribes spit Blood and Sulphur as they 
 
 please, 
 Or Statemen call me foolish Heed not you. 
 
 Behold, I promise Anything You will. 
 Behold, I greet you with an empty Till 
 
 Ah ! Fellow-Sinners, of your Charity 
 Seek not the Reason of the Dearth, but fill. 
 
112 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 For if I sinned and fell, where lies the Gain 
 
 Of Knowledge? Would it ease you of your 
 
 Pain 
 
 To know the tangled Threads of Revenue, 
 I ra^sael deeper in a hopeless Skein ? 
 
 "Who hath not Prudence " what was it I said, 
 Of Her who paints Her Eyes and tires Her 
 
 Head, 
 
 And gibes and mocks the People in the Street, 
 And fawns upon them for Her thriftless Bread ? 
 
 Accursed is She of Eve's daughters She 
 Hath cast off Prudence, and Her End shall be 
 Destruction . . . Brethren, of your Bounty 
 
 grant 
 Some portion of your daily Bread to Me. 
 
LA NUIT BLANCHE. 113 
 
 LA NUIT BLANCHE. 
 
 A Much-Discerning Public hold 
 The Singer generally sings 
 Of personal and private things, 
 
 And prints and sells his past for gold. 
 
 Whatever I may here disclaim, 
 The very clever folk I sing to 
 Will most indubitably cling to 
 
 Their pet delusion, just the same. 
 
 I HAD seen, as dawn was breaking 
 
 And I staggered to my rest, 
 Tari Devi softly shaking 
 
 From the Cart Road to the crest. 
 I had seen the spurs of Jakko 
 
 Heave and quiver, swell and sink. 
 Was it Earthquake or tobacco, 
 
 Day of Doom or Night of Drink ? 
 
 In the full, fresh, fragrant morning 
 I observed a camel crawl. 
 
 Laws of gravitation scorning, 
 On the ceiling and the wall ; 
 
114 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 Then I watched a fender walking, 
 And I heard gray leeches sing, 
 
 And a red-hot monkey talking 
 Did not seem the proper thing. 
 
 Then a creature, skinned and crimson, 
 
 Ran about the floor and cried, 
 And they said I had the " jims " on, 
 
 And they dosed me with bromide, 
 And they locked me in my bedroom 
 
 Me and one wee Blood Red Mouse 
 Though I said : " To give my head room 
 
 You had best unroof the house." 
 
 But my words were all unheeded, 
 
 Though I told the grave M.D. 
 That the treatment really needed 
 
 Was a dip in open sea 
 That was lapping just below me, 
 
 Smooth as silver, white as snow, 
 And it took three men to throw me 
 
 When I found I could not go. 
 
LA NUIT BLANCHE. 115 
 
 Half the night I watch the Heavens 
 
 Fizz like '81 champagne 
 Fly to sixes and to sevens, 
 
 Wheel and thunder back again ; 
 And when all was peace and order 
 
 Save one planet nailed askew, 
 Much I wept because my warder 
 
 Would not let me set it true. 
 
 After frenzied hours of waiting, 
 
 When the Earth and Skies were dumb, 
 Pealed an awful voice dictating 
 
 An interminable sum, 
 Changing to a tangled story 
 
 " What she said you said I said " 
 Till the Moon arose in glory, 
 
 And I found her ... in my head; 
 
 Then a Face came, blind and weeping, 
 
 And It couldn't wipe Its eyes, 
 And It muttered I was keeping 
 
 Back the moonlight from the skies ; 
 
116 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 So I patted It for pity, 
 
 But It whistled shrill with wrath, 
 And a huge black Devil City 
 
 Poured its peoples on my path. 
 
 So I fled with steps uncertain 
 
 On a thousand-year long race, 
 But the bellying of the curtain 
 
 Kept me always in one place ; 
 While the tumult rose and maddened 
 
 To the roar of Earth on fire, 
 Ere it ebbed and sank and saddened 
 
 To a whisper tense as wire. 
 
 In intolerable stillness 
 
 Rose one little, little star, 
 And it chuckled at my illness, 
 
 And it mocked me from afar ; 
 And its brethren came and eyed me, 
 
 Called the Universe to aid, 
 Till I lay, with naught to hide me, 
 
 'Neath the Scorn of All Things Made, 
 
LA NUIT BLANCHE. 117 
 
 Dun and saffron, robed and splendid, 
 
 Broke the solemn, pitying Day, 
 And I knew my pains were ended, 
 
 And I turned and tried to pray ; 
 But my speech was shattered wholly, 
 
 And I wept as children weep, 
 Till the dawn-wind, softly, slowly, 
 
 Brought to burning eyelids sleep. 
 
118 OTHER VEESES. 
 
 MY RIVAL. 
 
 I GO to concert, party, ball 
 
 What profit is in these ? 
 I sit alone against the wall 
 
 And strive to look at ease. 
 The incense that is mine by right 
 
 They burn before Her shrine ; 
 And that's because I'm seventeen 
 
 And She is forty-nine. 
 
 I cannot check my girlish blush, 
 
 My color comes and goes ; 
 I redden to my finger-tips, 
 
 And sometimes to my nose. 
 But She is white where white should be, 
 
 And red where red should shine. 
 The blush that flies at seventeen 
 
 Is fixed at forty-nine. 
 
MY RIVAL. 119 
 
 I wish / had Her constant cheek : 
 
 I wish that I could sing 
 All sorts of funny little songs, 
 
 Not quite the proper thing. 
 I'm very gauche and very shy, 
 
 Her jokes aren't in my line ; 
 And, worst of all, I'm seventeen 
 
 While She is forty-nine. 
 
 The young men conie, the young men go, 
 
 Each pink and white and neat, 
 She's older than their mothers, but 
 
 They grovel at Her feet. 
 They walk besides Her 'rickshaw wheels 
 
 None ever walk by mine ; 
 And that's because I'm seventeen 
 
 And She is forty-nine. 
 
 She rides with half a dozen men, 
 
 (She calls them "boys " and " mashers") 
 
 I trot along the Mall alone ; 
 My prettiest frocks and sashes 
 
120 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 Don't help to fill my program-card, 
 
 And vainly I repine 
 From ten to two A. M. Ah me ! 
 
 Would I were forty-nine ! 
 
 She calls me " darling/' " pet/' and " dear/' 
 
 And " sweet retiring maid." 
 I'm always at the back, I know. 
 
 She puts me in the shade. 
 She introduces me to men, 
 
 " Cast " lovers, I opine, 
 For sixty takes to seventeen, 
 
 Nineteen to forty-nine. 
 
 But even She must older grow 
 
 And end Her dancing days, 
 She can't go on forever so 
 
 At concerts, balls, and plays. 
 One ray of priceless hope I see 
 
 Before my footsteps shine ; 
 Just think, that She'll be eighty-one 
 
 When I am forty-nine. 
 
THE LOVERS' LITANY. 121 
 
 THE LOVERS' LITANY. 
 
 EYES of gray a sodden quay, 
 
 Driving rain and falling tears, 
 
 As the steamer wears to sea 
 
 In a parting storm of cheers. 
 
 Sing, for Faith and Hope are high 
 None so true as you and I 
 Sing the Lovers' Litany : 
 " Love like ours can never die ! " 
 
 Eyes of black a throbbing keel, 
 Milky foam to left and right ; 
 Whispered converse near the wheel 
 In the brilliant tropic night. 
 
 Cross that rules the Southern Sky ! 
 
 * 
 
 Stars that sweep and w r heel and fly. 
 
 Hear the Lovers' Litany : 
 
 " Love like ours can never die ! " 
 
122 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 Eyes of brown a dusty plain 
 Split and parched with heat of June, 
 Flying hoof and tightened rein, 
 Hearts that beat the old, old tune. 
 Side by side the horses fly, 
 Frame we now the old reply 
 Of the Lovers' Litany : 
 u Love like ours can never die ! 9: 
 
 Eyes of blue the Simla Hills 
 Silvered with the moonlight hoar ; 
 Pleading of the w r altz that thrills, 
 Dies and echoes round Benmore. 
 
 "Mabel," "Officers," " Good-by," 
 
 Glamour, wine, and witchery 
 
 On my soul's sincerity, 
 
 " Love like ours can never die ! " 
 
 Maidens, of your charity, 
 Pity my most luckless state. 
 Four times Cupid's debtor I 
 Bankrupt in quadruplicate. 
 
THE LOVERS' LITANY. 123 
 
 Yet, despite tliis evil case, 
 
 An a maiden showed me grace, 
 
 Four-and-forty times would I 
 
 Sing the Lovers' Litany : 
 
 " Love like ours can never die ! " 
 
124 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 A- BALLAD OF BURIAL. 
 
 (" Saint Praxe&s ever was the Church for peace.") 
 
 IF down here I chance to die, 
 
 Solemnly I beg you take 
 All that is left of " I " 
 
 To the Hills for old sake's sake. 
 Pack me very thoroughly 
 
 In the ice that used to slake 
 Pegs I drank when I was dry 
 
 This observe for old sake's sake. 
 
 To the railway station hie, 
 
 There a single ticket take 
 For Umballa goods-train I 
 
 Shall not mind delay or shake. 
 I shall rest contentedly 
 
 Spite of clamor coolies make ; 
 Thus in state and dignity 
 
 Send me up for old sake's sake. 
 
A BALLAD OF BURIAL. 125 
 
 Next the sleepy Babu wake, 
 
 Book a Kalka van " for four." 
 Few, I think, will care to make 
 
 Journeys with me any more 
 As they used to do of yore. 
 
 I shall need a " special " break 
 Thing I never took before 
 
 Get me one for old sake's sake. 
 
 After that arrangements make. 
 
 No hotel will take me in, 
 And a bullock's back would break 
 
 'Neath the teak and leaden skin. 
 Tonga ropes are frail and thin, 
 
 Or, did I a back-seat take, 
 In a tonga I might spin, 
 
 Do your best for old sake's sake. 
 
 After that your work is done. 
 
 Recollect a Padre must 
 Mourn the dear departed one 
 
 Throw the ashes and the dust. 
 
126 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 Don't go down at once. I trust 
 You will find excuse to " snake 
 
 Three days' casual on the bust," 
 Get your fun for old sake's sake. 
 
 I could never stand the Plains. 
 
 Think of blazing June and May, 
 Think of those September rains 
 
 Yearly till the Judgment Day ! 
 I should never rest in peace, 
 
 I should sweat and lie awake. . 
 Rail me then, on my decease, 
 
 To the Hills for old sake's sake. 
 
DIVIDED DESTINIES. 127 
 
 DIVIDED DESTINIES. 
 
 IT was an artless Bandar, and he danced upon 
 
 a pine, 
 And much I wondered how he lived, and where 
 
 the beast might dine. 
 And many, many other things, till, o'er my 
 
 morning smoke, 
 I slept the ' sleep of idleness and dreamt that 
 
 Bandar spoke. 
 
 He said : " man of many clothes ! Sad 
 
 crawler on the Hills ! 
 Observe, I know not Ranken's shop, nor Ran- 
 
 ken's monthly bills ; 
 I take no heed to trousers or the coats that you 
 
 call dress ; 
 Nor am I plagued with little cards for little drinks 
 
 at Mess. 
 
128 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 " I steal the bunnia's grain at morn, at noon and 
 eventide, 
 
 (For he is fat and I am spare), I roam the moun- 
 tain side, 
 
 I follow no man's carriage, and no, never in 
 my life 
 
 Have I flirted at Peliti's with another Bandar's 
 wife. 
 
 " man of futile fopperies unnecessary 
 wraps ; 
 
 I own no ponies in the hills, I drive no tall- 
 wheeled traps ; 
 
 I buy me not twelve-button gloves, ' short sixes ' 
 eke, or rings, 
 
 Nor do I waste at Hamilton's my wealth on 
 ' pretty things.' 
 
 " I quarrel with my wife at home, we never fight 
 
 abroad ; 
 But Mrs. B. has grasped the fact I am her only 
 
 lord. 
 
DIVIDED DESTINIES. 129 
 
 I never heard of fever dumps nor debts depress 
 
 my soul ; 
 And I pity and despise you ! " Here he pouched 
 
 my breakfast-roll. 
 
 His hide was very mangy, and his face was very red, 
 And ever and anon he scratched with energy his 
 
 head. 
 His manners were not always nice, but how my 
 
 spirit cried 
 To be an artless Bandar loose upon the mountain 
 
 side ! 
 
 
 So I answered : " Gentle Bandar, an inscrutable 
 
 Decree 
 Makes thee a gleesome fleasome Thou, and me a 
 
 wretched Me. 
 Go ! Depart in peace, my brother, to thy home 
 
 amid the pine ; 
 Yet forget not once a mortal wished to change 
 
 his lot with thine." 
 
130 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 THE MASQUE OF PLENTY. 
 
 ARGUMENT. The Indian Government, being minded to dis- 
 cover the economic condition of their lands, sent a Committee 
 to inquire into it ; and saw that it was good. 
 
 SCENE. The wooded heights of Simla. The 
 Incarnation of the Government of India in 
 the raiment of the Angel of Plenty sings, to 
 pianoforte accompaniment : 
 
 " How sweet is the shepherd's sweet life ! 
 
 From the dawn to the even he strays 
 He shall follow his sheep all the day, 
 
 And his tongue shall be filled with praise. 
 
 (Adagio dim.) Filled with praise ! " 
 
 (Largendo con sp.} Now this is the position, 
 Go make an inquisition 
 Into their real condition 
 As swiftly as ye may. 
 
THE MASQUE OF PLENTY. 131 
 
 (p.) Ay, paint our swarthy billions 
 The richest of vermilions 
 Ere two well-led cotillions 
 
 Have danced themselves away. 
 
 TURKISH PATROL, as able and intelligent Investi- 
 gators wind down the Himalayas : 
 
 What is the state of the Nation ? What is its 
 
 occupation ? 
 Hi ! get along, get along, get along lend us 
 
 the information ! 
 
 (Dim.) Census the byle and the yabu capture a 
 
 first-class Babu, 
 Set him to cut Gazetteers Gazetteers . . . 
 
 (ff.} What is the state of the Nation, etc., etc. 
 
 INTERLUDE, from Nowhere in Particular, to 
 stringed and Oriental instruments. 
 
 Our cattle reel beneath the yoke they bear 
 The earth is iron, and the skies are brass 
 
132 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 And faint with fervor of the flaming air 
 The languid hours pass. 
 
 The well is dry beneath the village tree 
 
 The young wheat withers ere it reach a 
 
 span, 
 And belts of blinding sand show cruelly 
 
 Where once the river ran. 
 
 Pray, brothers, pray, but to no earthly King 
 Lift up your hands above the blighted grain, 
 Look westward if they please, the Gods shall 
 
 bring 
 Their mercy with the rain. 
 
 Look westward bears the blue no brown cloud- 
 bank ? 
 
 Nay, it is written wherefore should we 
 fly? 
 
 On our own field and by our cattle's flank 
 Lie down, lie down to die ! 
 
THE MASQUE OF PLENTY. 133 
 
 SEMI-CHORUS. 
 
 By the plumed heads of Kings 
 
 Waving high, 
 Where the tall corn springs 
 
 O'er the dead. 
 
 If they rust or rot we die, 
 
 If they ripen we are fed. 
 
 Very mighty is the power of our Kings ! 
 
 Triumphal return to Simla of the Investigators, 
 attired after the manner of Dionysus, leading 
 a pet-tiger in wreaths of rhubarb leaves, sym- 
 bolical of India under medical treatment. 
 They sing : 
 
 We have seen, we have written behold it, the 
 
 proof of our manifold toil ! 
 In their hosts they assembled and told it the 
 
 tale of the sons of the soil. 
 
134 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 We have said of the Sickness, " Where is it ? " 
 
 and of Death, " It is far from our ken j " 
 We have paid a particular visit to the affluent 
 
 children of men. 
 We have trodden the mart and the well-curb 
 
 we have stooped to the bield and the byre ; 
 And the King may the forces of Hell curb, for 
 
 the People have all they desire ! 
 
 Castanets and step-dance : 
 
 Oh, the dom and the mag and the ihakur and 
 the thag, 
 
 And the nat and the brinjaree, 
 And the bimnia and the ryot are as happy and 
 as quiet 
 
 And as plump as they can be ! 
 Yes, the jain and the jot in his stucco-fronted 
 hut, 
 
 And the bounding bazugar, 
 By the favor of the King, are as fat as anything, 
 They are they are they are ! 
 
THE MASQUE OF PLENTY. 135 
 
 RECITATIVE, Government of India, with white 
 satin wings and electroplated harp : 
 
 How beautiful upon the mountains in peace 
 reclining, 
 
 Thus to be assured that our people are unani- 
 mously dining. 
 
 And though there are places not so blessed as 
 others in natural advantages, which, after all, 
 was only to be expected, 
 
 Proud and glad are we to congratulate you upon 
 the work you have thus ably effected. 
 
 (Ores.) How be-ewtiful upon the mountains! 
 
 HIRED BAND, brasses only, full chorus : 
 
 God bless the Squire 
 
 And all his rich relations 
 
 Who teach us poor people 
 
 We eat our proper rations 
 We eat our proper rations, 
 In spite, of inundations, 
 
136 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 Malarial exhalations, 
 
 And casual starvations, 
 We have, we have, they say we have 
 We have our proper rations ! 
 
 (Cornet.} 
 
 Which nobody can deny ! 
 
 If he does he tells a lie 
 
 We are all as willing as Barkis 
 We all of us loves the Markiss 
 We all of us stuffs our ca-ar-kis 
 With food until we die ! (Da capo.} 
 
 CHORUS OF THE CRYSTALIZED FACTS. 
 
 Before the beginning of years 
 There came to the rule of the State 
 Men with a pair of shears, 
 Men with an Estimate 
 Strachey with Muir for leaven, 
 Lytton with locks that fell, 
 Kipon fooling with Heaven, 
 And Temple riding like H-ll ! 
 
THE MASQUE OF PLENTY. 137 
 
 And the bigots took in hand 
 
 Cess and the falling of rain, 
 
 And the measure of sifted sand 
 
 The dealer puts in the grain 
 
 Imports by land and sea, 
 
 To uttermost decimal worth, 
 
 And registration free 
 
 In the houses of death and of birth : 
 
 And fashioned with pens and paper, 
 
 And fashioned in black and white, 
 
 With Life for a flickering taper 
 
 And Death for a blazing light 
 
 With the Armed and the Civil Power, 
 
 That his strength might endure for a span, 
 
 From Adam's Bridge to Peshawur, 
 
 The Much Administered man. 
 
 In the towns of the North and the East, 
 They gathered as unto rule, 
 They bade him starve the priest 
 And send his children to school. 
 Railways and roads they wrought, 
 
138 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 For the needs of the soil within ; 
 A time to squabble in court, 
 A time to bear and to grin. 
 
 And gave him peace in his ways, 
 
 Jails and Police to fight. 
 
 Justice at length of days, 
 
 And Right and Might in the Right. 
 
 His speech is of mortgaged bedding, 
 
 On his kine he borrows yet, 
 
 At his heart is his daughter's wedding, 
 
 In his eye foreknowledge of debt. 
 
 He eats and hath indigestion, 
 
 He toils and he may not stop ; 
 
 His life is a long-drawn question 
 
 Between a crop and a crop. 
 
THE MARE'S NEST. 139 
 
 THE MARE'S NEST. 
 
 JANE Austen Beecher Stowe de Rouse 
 Was good beyond all earthly need ; 
 
 But, on the other hand, her spouse 
 Was very, very bad indeed. 
 
 He smoked cigars, called churches slow, 
 And raced but this she did not know. 
 
 For Belial Machiavelli kept 
 
 The little fact a secret, and, 
 Though o'er his minor sins she wept, 
 
 Jane Austen did not understand 
 That Lilly thirteen two and bay 
 Absorbed one half her husband's pay. 
 
 She was so good, she made him worse ; 
 
 (Some women are like this, I think ;) 
 He taught her parrot how to curse, 
 
 Her Assam monkey how to drink. 
 
140 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 He vexed her righteous soul until 
 She went up, and he went down hill. 
 
 Then came the crisis, strange to say, 
 Which turned a good wife to a better. 
 
 A telegraphic peon, one day, 
 
 Brought her now, had it been a letter 
 
 For Belial Machiavelli, I 
 
 Know Jane would just have let it lie. 
 
 But 'twas a telegram instead, 
 
 Marked " urgent/' and her duty plain 
 To open it. Jane Austen read : 
 
 " Your Lilly's got a cough again. 
 Can't understand why she is kept 
 At your expense." Jane Austen wept. 
 
 It was a misdirected wire. 
 
 Her husband was at Shaitanpore. 
 She spread her anger, hot as fire, 
 
 Through six thin foreign sheets or more, 
 
THE MARE'S NEST. 141 
 
 Sent off that letter, wrote another 
 To her solicitor and mother. 
 
 Then Belial Machiavelli saw 
 Her error and, I trust, his own, 
 
 Wired to the minion of the Law, 
 And traveled wifeward not alone. 
 
 For Lilly thirteen-two and bay 
 
 Came in a horse-box all the way. 
 
 There was a scene a weep or two 
 With many kisses. Austen Jane 
 
 Rode Lilly all the season through, 
 And never opened wires again. 
 
 She races now with Belial. This 
 
 Is very sad, but so it is. 
 
142 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 POSSIBILITIES. 
 
 AY, lay him 'neath the Simla pine 
 A fortnight fully to be missed, 
 Behold, we lose our fourth at whist, 
 
 A chair is vacant where we dine. 
 
 His place forgets him ; other men 
 
 Have bought his ponies, guns, and traps. 
 His fortune is the Great Perhaps 
 
 And that cool rest-house down the glen, 
 
 Whence he shall hear, as spirits may, 
 Our mundane revel on the height, 
 Shall watch each flashing 'rickshaw-light 
 
 Sweep on to dinner, dance, and play. 
 
 Benmore shall woo him to the ball 
 
 With lighted rooms and braying band, 
 And he shall hear and understand 
 
 " Dream Faces " better than us all. 
 
POSSIBILITIES. 143 
 
 For, think you, as the vapors flee 
 Across Sanjaolie after rain, 
 His soul may climb the hill again 
 
 To each old field of victory. 
 
 Unseen, who women held so dear, 
 
 The strong man's yearning to his kind 
 Shall shake at most the window-blind, 
 
 Or dull awhile the card-room's cheer. 
 
 In his own place of power unknown, 
 His Light o' Love another's flame, 
 His dearest pony galloped lame, 
 
 And he an alien and alone. 
 
 Yet may he meet with many a friend 
 Shrewd shadows, lingering long unseen 
 Among us when " God save the Queen " 
 
 Shows even " extras " have an end. 
 
144 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 And, when we leave the heated room, 
 And, when at four the lights expire, 
 The crew shall gather round the fire 
 
 And mock our laughter in the gloom. 
 
 Talk as we talked, and they ere death 
 First wanly, dance in ghostly wise, 
 With ghosts of tunes for melodies, 
 
 And vanish at the morning's breath. 
 
CHRISTMAS IN INDIA. 145 
 
 CHRISTMAS IN INDIA. 
 
 DIM dawn behind the tamarisks the sky is 
 
 saffron-yellow 
 
 As the women in the village grind the corn, 
 And the parrots seek the river-side, each calling 
 
 to his fellow 
 
 That the Day, the staring Eastern Day is born. 
 Oh the white dust on the highway ! Oh the 
 
 stenches in the byway ! 
 Oh the clammy fog that hovers over earth ! 
 And at Home they're making merry 'neath 
 
 the white and scarlet berry 
 What part have India's exiles in their 
 mirth? 
 
 Full day behind the tamarisks the sky is blue 
 
 and staring 
 As the cattle crawl afield beneath the yoke, 
 
 10 
 
146 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 And they bear One o'er the field-path, who is 
 
 past all hope or caring, 
 To the gaht below the curling wreaths of 
 
 smoke. 
 Call on Rama, going slowly, as ye bear a 
 
 brother lowly 
 Call on Rama he may hear, perhaps, your 
 
 voice ! 
 With our hymn-books and our psalters we 
 
 appeal to other altars, 
 And to-day we bid " good Christian men 
 rejoice ! " 
 
 High noon behind the tamarisks the sun is hot 
 
 above us 
 
 As at Home the Christmas Day is breaking wan. 
 They will drink our healths at dinner those who 
 
 tell us how they love us, 
 And forget us till another year be gone ! 
 Oh the toil that knows no breaking ! Oh ! 
 the Ueimweh, ceaseless, aching ! 
 
CHRISTMAS IN INDIA. 147 
 
 Oh the black dividing Sea and alien Plain ! 
 Youth was cheap wherefore we sold it. 
 
 Gold was good we hoped to hold it, 
 And to-day wa know the fulness of our 
 gain. 
 
 Gray dusk behind the tamarisks the parrots fly 
 
 together- 
 As the sun is sinking slowly over Home ; 
 And his last ray seems to mock us shackled in a 
 
 lifelong tether 
 That drags us back howe'er so far we 
 
 roam. 
 Hard her service, poor her payment she in 
 
 ancient, tattered raiment 
 India, she the grim Stepmother of our 
 
 kind. 
 If a year of life be lent her, if her temple's 
 
 shrine we enter, 
 
 The door is shut we may not look 
 behind. 
 
148 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 Black night behind the tamarisks the owls 
 
 begin their chorus 
 As the conches from the temple scream and 
 
 bray. 
 
 With the fruitless years behind us, and the hope- 
 less years before us, 
 
 Let us honor, my brothers, Christmas Day ! 
 Call a truce, then, to our labors let us 
 
 feast with friends and neighbors, 
 And be merry as the custom of our caste ; 
 For if " faint and forced the laughter," and 
 
 if sadness follow after, 
 We are richer by one mocking Christmas 
 past. 
 
PAGETT, M. P. 149 
 
 PAGETT, M. P. 
 
 The toad beneath the harrow knows 
 Exactly where each tooth-point goes. 
 The butterfly upon the road 
 Preaches contentment to that toad. 
 
 PAGETT, M. P., was a liar, and a fluent liar 
 
 therewith, 
 He spoke of the heat of India as the " Asian 
 
 Solar Myth;" 
 Came on a four months' visit, to " study the 
 
 East," in November, 
 And I got him to sign an agreement vowing to 
 
 stay till September. 
 
 March came in with the koil. Pagett was cool 
 
 and gay, 
 Called me a " bloated Brahmin," talked of my 
 
 " princely pay." 
 
150 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 March went out with the roses. " Where is your 
 
 heat ? " said he. 
 " Coming/' said I to Pagett. " Skittles ! " said 
 
 Pagett, M. P. 
 
 April began with the punkah, coolies, and prickly- 
 heat, 
 
 Pagett was dear to mosquitoes, sandflies found 
 him a treat. 
 
 He grew speckled and lumpy hammered, I 
 grieve to say, 
 
 Aryan brothers who fanned him, in an illiberal 
 way. 
 
 May set in with a dust-storm, Pagett went down 
 with the sun. 
 
 All the delights of the season tickled him one 
 by one. 
 
 Imprimis ten days' " liver " due to his drink- 
 ing beer ; 
 
 Later, a dose of fever slight, but he called it 
 severe. 
 
PAGETT, M. P. 151 
 
 Dysent'ry touched him in June, after the Chota 
 
 Bursat 
 Lowered his portly person made him yearn to 
 
 depart. 
 He didn't call me a " Brahmin/' or " bloated," 
 
 or " overpaid," 
 But seemed to think it a wonder that any one 
 
 stayed. 
 
 July was a trifle unhealthy, Paget was ill with 
 
 fear, 
 'Called it the " Cholera Morbus," hinted that life 
 
 was dear. 
 He babbled of " Eastern exile," and mentioned his 
 
 home with tears ; 
 But I hadn't seen my children for close upon 
 
 seven years. 
 
 We reached a hundred and twenty once in the 
 
 Court at noon, 
 (I've mentioned Pagett was portly) Pagett went 
 
 off in a swoon. 
 
152 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 That was an end to the business; Pagett, the 
 
 perjured, fled 
 With a practical, working knowledge of " Solar 
 
 Myths " in his head. 
 
 And I laughed as I drove from the station, but 
 
 the mirth died out on my lips 
 As I thought of the fools like Pagett who write 
 
 of their " Eastern trips," 
 And the sneers of the traveled idiots who duly 
 
 misgovern the land, 
 And I prayed to the Lord to deliver another one 
 
 into my hand. 
 
THE SONG OF THE WOMEN. 153 
 
 THE SONG OF THE WOMEN. 
 
 (Lady Duff erin's fund for edical aid to the Women of India.) 
 
 How shall she know the worship we would do 
 
 her ? 
 
 The walls are high, and she is very far. 
 How shall the women's message reach unto her 
 Above the tumult of the packed bazaar ? 
 Free wind of March, against the lattice 
 
 blowing, 
 
 Bear thou our thanks, lest she depart un- 
 knowing. 
 
 Go forth across the fields we may not roam in, 
 Go forth beyond the trees that rim the city, 
 To whatsoe'er fair place she hath her home 
 
 in, 
 
 Who dowered us with wealth of love and 
 pity. 
 
154 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 Out of our shadow pass, and seek her sing- 
 ing 
 
 " I have no gifts but Love alone for bring- 
 ing." 
 
 Say that we be a feeble folk who greet her, 
 But old in grief, and very wise in tears ; 
 Say that we, being desolate, entreat her 
 That she forget us not in after years ; 
 
 For we have seen the light, and it were 
 
 grievous 
 To dim that dawning if our lady leave us. 
 
 By life that ebbed with none to stanch the fail- 
 ing* 
 By Love's sad harvest garnered in the spring, 
 
 When Love in ignorance wept unavailing 
 
 O'er young buds dead before their blos- 
 soming ; 
 By all the gray owl watched, the pale moon 
 
 viewed, 
 In past grim years, declare our gratitude ! 
 
THE SONG OF THE WOMEN. 155 
 
 By hands uplifted to the Gods that heard not, 
 By gifts that found no favor in their sight, 
 By faces bent above the babe that stirred not, 
 By nameless horrors of the stifling night ; 
 By ills foredone, by peace her toils discover, 
 Bid Earth be good beneath and Heaven 
 above her ! 
 
 If she have sent her servants in our pain, 
 
 If she have fought with Death and dulled his 
 
 sword ; 
 If she have given back our sick again, 
 
 And to the breast the weakling lips restored, 
 Is it a little thing that she has wrought ? 
 Then Life and Death and Motherhood be 
 nought. 
 
 Go forth, wind, our message on thy wings, 
 And they shall hear thee pass and bid thee 
 speed, 
 
 In reed-roofed hut, or white-walled home of kings, 
 Who have been helpen by her in their need. 
 
156 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 All spring shall give thee fragrance, and the 
 
 wheat 
 Shall be a tasseled floorcloth to thy feet. 
 
 Haste, for our hearts are with thee, take no 
 
 rest ! 
 
 Loud-voiced ambassador, from sea to sea 
 Proclaim the blessing, manifold, confest, 
 Of those in darkness by her hand set free, 
 Then very softly to her presence move, 
 And whisper : " Lady, lo, they know and 
 love ! " 
 
A BALLADE OF JAKKO HILL. 157 
 
 A BALLADE OF JAKKO HILL. 
 
 ONE moment bid the horses wait, 
 
 Since tiffin is not laid till three, 
 Below the upward path and straight 
 
 You climbed a year ago with me. 
 Love came upon us suddenly 
 
 And loosed : an idle hour to kill 
 A headless, armless armory 
 
 That smote us both on Jakko Hill. 
 
 Ah Heaven ! we would wait and wait 
 Through Time and to Eternity ! 
 
 Ah Heaven ! we could conquer Fate 
 With more than Godlike constancy ! 
 
 I cut the date upon a tree 
 
 Here stand the clumsy figures still : 
 
 10-7-85, A.D," 
 
 Damp with the mist on Jakko Hill, 
 
158 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 What came of high resolve and great, 
 
 And until Death fidelity ? 
 Whose horse is waiting at your gate ? 
 
 Whose 'rickshaw-wheels ride over me ? 
 No Saint's, I swear ; and let me see 
 
 To-night what names your program fill- 
 We drift asunder merrily, 
 
 As drifts the mist on Jakko Hill ! 
 
 L'ENVOI. 
 
 Princess, behold our ancient state 
 
 Has clean departed ; and we see 
 'Twas Idleness we took for Fate 
 
 That bound light bonds on you and me. 
 Amen ! Here ends the comedy 
 
 Where it began in all good will ; 
 Since Love and Leave together flee 
 
 As driven mist on Jakko Hill ! 
 
THE PLEA OF THE SIMLA DANCERS. 159 
 
 THE PLEA OF THE SIMLA DANCERS. 
 
 Too late, alas ! the song 
 
 To remedy the wrong ; 
 The rooms are taken from us, swept and garnished for their fate. 
 
 But these tear-besprinkled pages 
 
 Shall attest to future ages 
 That we cried against the crime of it too late, alas ! too late ! 
 
 " WHAT have we ever done to bear this grudge ? " 
 
 Was there no room save only in Benmore 
 For docket, duftar, and for office drudge, 
 
 That you usurp our smoothest dancing floor ? 
 Must babus do their work on polished teak ? 
 
 Are ball-rooms fittest for the ink you spill ? 
 Was there no other cheaper house to seek ? 
 
 You might have left them all at Strawberry Hill. 
 
 We never harmed you ! Innocent our guise, 
 Dainty our shining feet, our voices low ; 
 
 And we revolved to divers melodies, 
 And we were happy but a year ago. 
 
160 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 To-night, the moon that watched our lightsome 
 wiles 
 
 That beamed upon us through the deodars 
 Is wan with gazing on official files, 
 
 And desecrating desks disgust the stars. 
 
 Nay ! by the memory of tuneful nights 
 
 Nay ! by the witchery of flying feet 
 Nay ! by the glamour of foredone delights 
 
 By all things merry, musical, and meet 
 By wine that sparkled, and by sparkling eyes 
 
 By wailing waltz by reckless galops strain 
 By dim verandas and by soft replies, 
 
 Give us our ravished ball-room back again ! 
 
 Or harken to the curse we lay on you ! 
 
 The ghosts of waltzes shall perplex your 
 
 brain, 
 And murmurs of past merriment pursue 
 
 Your 'wildered clerks that they indite in 
 vain; 
 
THE PLEA OF THE SIMLA DANCERS. 161 
 
 And, when you count your poor Provincial 
 millions, 
 
 The only figures that your pen shall frame 
 Shall be the figures of dear, dear cotillions 
 
 Danced out in tumult long before you came. 
 
 Yea ! " See Saw " shall upset your estimates, 
 
 " Dream Faces " shall your heavy heads be- 
 muse, 
 Because your hand, unheeding, desecrates 
 
 Our temple ; fit for higher, worthier use. 
 And all the long verandas, eloquent 
 
 With echoes of a score of Simla years, 
 Shall plague you with unbidden sentiment 
 
 Babbling of kisses, laughter, love, and tears. 
 
 So shall you mazed amid old memories stand, 
 So shall you toil, and shall accomplish 
 
 nought, 
 And ever in your ears a phantom Band 
 
 Shall blare away the staid official thought, 
 ii 
 
162 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 Wherefore and ere this awful curse be spoken. 
 Cast out your swarthy sacrilegious train, 
 
 And give ere dancing cease and hearts be 
 
 broken 
 Give us our ravished ball-room back again ! 
 
BALLAD OF FISHEfi's BOARDING-HOUSE. 163 
 
 BALLAD OP FISHER'S BOARDING-HOUSE. 
 
 That night, when through the mooring-chains 
 
 The wide-eyed corpse rolled free, 
 To blunder down by Garden Reach 
 
 And rot at Kedgeree, 
 The tale the Hughli told the shoal 
 
 The lean shoal told to me. 
 
 Fultah Fisher's boarding-house 
 
 Where sailor-men reside, 
 And there were men of all the ports 
 
 From Mississip to Clyde, 
 And regally they spat and smoked, 
 
 And fearsomely they lied. 
 
 They lied about the purple Sea 
 That gave them scanty bread, 
 
 They lied about the Earth beneath, 
 The Heavens overhead, 
 
 For they had looked too often on 
 Black rum when that was red. 
 
164 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 They told their tales of wreck and wrong. 
 
 Of shame and lust and fraud. 
 They backed their toughest statements with 
 
 The Brimstone of the Lord, 
 And crackling oaths went to and fro 
 
 Across the fist-banged board. 
 
 And there was Hans the Blue-eyed Dane, 
 
 Bull-throated, bare of arm, 
 Who carried on his hairy chest 
 
 The maid Ultruda's charm 
 The little silver crucifix 
 
 That keeps a man from harm. 
 
 And there was Jake Without-the-Ears, 
 
 And Pamba the Malay, 
 And Carboy Gin the Guinea cook, 
 
 And Luz from Vigo Bay, 
 And Honest Jack who sold them slops 
 
 And harvested their pay. 
 
 And there was Salem Hardieker^ 
 A lean Bostonian he 
 
BALLAD OF FISHER^S BOARDING-HOUSE. 165 
 
 Russ, German, English, Half breed, Finn, 
 
 Yank, Dane, and Portugee, 
 At Fultah Fisher's boarding-house 
 
 They rested from the sea. 
 
 Now Anne of Austria shared their drinks, 
 
 Collinga knew her fame, 
 From Tarnau in Galicia 
 
 To Jaun Bazar she came, 
 To eat the bread of infamy 
 
 And take the wage of shame. 
 
 She held a dozen men to heel 
 
 Rich spoil of war was hers, 
 In hose and gown and ring and chain, 
 
 From twenty mariners, 
 And, by Port Law, that week, men called 
 
 Her Salem Hardieker's. 
 
 But seamen learnt what landsmen know 
 That neither gifts nor gain 
 
166 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 Can hold a winking Light o' Love 
 
 Or Fancy's flight restrain, 
 When Anne of Austria rolled her eyes 
 
 On Hans the blue-eyed Dane. 
 
 Since Life is strife, and strife means knife, 
 
 From Howrah to the Bay, 
 And he may die before the dawn 
 
 Who liquored out the day, 
 In Fultah Fisher's boarding-house 
 
 We woo while yet we may. 
 
 But cold was Hans the blue-eyed Dane, 
 
 Bull-throated, bare of arm, 
 And laughter shook the chest beneath 
 
 The maid Ultruda's charm 
 The little silver crucifix 
 
 That keeps a man from harm. 
 
 " You speak to Salem Hardieker, 
 You was his girl, I know. 
 
BALLAD OF FISHER^ BOARDING-HOUSE. 167 
 
 I ship mineselfs to-morrow, see, 
 
 Und round the Skaw we go, 
 South, down the Cattegat, by Hjelm, 
 
 To Besser in Saro." 
 
 When love rejected turns to hate, 
 
 All ill betide the man. 
 " You speak to Salem Hardieker " 
 
 She spoke as woman can. 
 A scream a sob " He called me names ! " 
 
 And then the fray began. 
 
 An oath from Salem Hardieker, 
 
 A shriek upon the stairs, 
 A dance of shadows on the wall, 
 
 A knife-thrust unawares 
 And Hans came down, as cattle drop, 
 
 Across the broken chairs. 
 
 In Anne of Austria's trembling hands 
 The weary head fell low : 
 
168 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 " I ship mineselfs to-morrow, straight 
 
 For Besser in Saro : 
 Und there Ultruda comes to me 
 
 At Easter, und I go 
 
 " South, down the Cattegat What's here ? 
 
 There are no lights to guide ! " 
 The mutter ceased, the spirit passed, 
 
 And Anne of Austria cried 
 In Fultah Fisher's boarding-house 
 
 When Hans the mighty died. 
 
 Thus slew they Hans the blue-eyed Dane, 
 
 Bull-throated, bare of arm, 
 But Anne of Austria looted first 
 
 The maid Ultruda's charm 
 The little silver crucifix 
 
 That keeps a man from harm. 
 
"AS THE BELL CLINKS." 169 
 
 AS THE BELL CLINKS.' 3 
 
 As I left the Halls at Lumley, rose the vision of 
 
 a comely 
 Maid last season worshiped dumbly, watched with 
 
 fervor from afar ; 
 And I wondered idly, blindly, if the maid would 
 
 greet me kindly. 
 That was all the rest was settled by the clinking 
 
 tonga-bar. 
 Yea, my life and hers were coupled by the tonga 
 
 coupling-bar. 
 
 For my misty meditation, at the second changing- 
 station, 
 
 Suffered sudden dislocation, fled before the tune- 
 less jar 
 
 Of a Wagner obbligato, scherzo, double-hand 
 staccato, 
 
170 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 Played on either pony's saddle by the clacking 
 tonga-bar 
 
 Played with human speech, I fancied, by the jig- 
 ging, jolting bar. 
 
 " She was sweet/' thought I, " last season, but 
 
 'twere surely wild unreason 
 Such tiny hope to freeze on as was offered by my 
 
 Star, 
 When she whispered, something sadly : ' I we 
 
 feel your going badly ! ' 
 " And you let the chance escape you ? " rapped 
 
 the rattling tonga-bar. 
 " What a chance and what an idiot ! " clinked 
 
 the vicious tonga-bar. 
 
 Heart of man oh, heart of putty ! Had I gone 
 
 by Kakahutti, 
 On the old Hill-road and rutty, I had 'scaped 
 
 that fatal car 
 But his fortune each must bide by, so I watched 
 
 the milestones slide by, 
 
" AS THE BELL CLINKS." 171 
 
 To " You call on Her to-morrow ! " fugue with 
 
 cymbals by the bar 
 " You must call on Her to-morrow ! " post-horn 
 
 gallop by the bar. 
 
 Yet a further stage my goal on we were whirl- 
 ing down to Solon, 
 
 With a double lurch and roll on, best foot fore- 
 most, ganz und gar 
 
 " She was very sweet," I hinted. " If a kiss had 
 been imprinted ? " 
 
 " ' Would ha' saved a world of trouble ! " clashed 
 the busy tonga-bar. 
 
 "'.Been accepted or rejected!" banged and 
 clanged the tonga-bar. 
 
 Then a notion wild and daring, 'spite the income 
 
 tax's paring, 
 And a hasty thought of sharing less than many 
 
 incomes are, 
 Made me put a question private, you can guess 
 
 what I would drive at. 
 
172 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 " You must work the sum to prove it," clanked 
 
 the careless tonga-bar. 
 " Simple Rule of Two will prove it" lilted back 
 
 the tonga-bar. 
 
 It was under Khyraghaut I mused : " Suppose 
 
 the maid be haughty 
 (There are lovers rich and forty) wait some 
 
 wealthv Avatar? 
 
 / 
 
 Answer, monitor untiring, 'twixt the ponies twain 
 
 perspiring ! " 
 " Faint heart never won fair lady" creaked the 
 
 straining tonga-bar. 
 " Can I tell you ere you ask Her ? " pounded 
 
 slow the tonga-bar. 
 
 Last, the Tara Devi turning showed the lights of 
 
 Simla burning, 
 Lit my little lazy yearning to a fiercer flame by 
 
 far. 
 As below the Mall we jingled, through my very 
 
 heart it tingled 
 
" AS THE BELL CLINKS." 173 
 
 Did the iterated order of the threshing tonga- 
 bar 
 
 " Try your luck you can't do better ! " twanged 
 the loosened tonga-bar. 
 
174 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 AN OLD SONG. 
 
 So long as 'neath the Kalka hills 
 
 The tonga-horn shall ring. 
 So long as down the Solon dip 
 
 The hard-held ponies swing, 
 So long as Tara Devi sees 
 
 The lights o' Simla town, 
 So long as Pleasure calls us up, 
 
 And duty drives us down, 
 
 If you love me a's I love you, 
 What pair so happy as we two 
 
 So long as Aces takes the King, 
 
 Or barkers take the bet, 
 So lon^ as debt leads men to wed, 
 
 Or marriage leads to debt, 
 So long as little luncheons, Love, 
 
 And scandal hold their vogue, 
 
AN OLD SONG. 175 
 
 While there is sport at Annandale 
 Or whisky at Jutogh, 
 
 If you love me as I love you, 
 What knife can cut our love in two ? 
 
 So long as down the rocking floor 
 
 The raving polka spins, 
 So long as Kitchen Lancers spur 
 
 The maddened violins, 
 So long as through the whirling smoke 
 
 We hear the oft-told tale : 
 "Twelve hundred in the Lotteries," 
 
 And Whatshername for sale? 
 If you love me as I love you, 
 Wf? II play the game and win it too. 
 
 So long as Lust or Lucre tempt 
 
 Straight riders from ih^ Bourse, 
 
 So long as with each drink we pour 
 Black brewage of Remorse, 
 
 So long as those unloaded guns 
 We keep beside the bed 
 
176 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 Blow off, by obvious accident, 
 The lucky owner's head, 
 
 If you love me as I love you, 
 What can Life kill or Death undo ? 
 
 So long as Death 'twixt dance and dance 
 
 Chills best and bravest blood, 
 And drops the reckless rider down 
 
 The rotten, rain-soaked khud, 
 So long as rumors from the North 
 
 Make loving wives afraid, 
 So long as Burma takes the boy 
 
 And typhoid kills the maid, 
 If you love me as I love you, 
 What knife can cut our love in two? 
 
 By all that lights our daily life 
 
 Or works our lifelong woe, 
 From Boileaugunge to Simla Downs 
 
 And those grim glades below, 
 Where, heedless of the flying hoof 
 
 And clamor overhead, 
 
AN OLD SONG. 177 
 
 Sleep, with the gray langur for guard, 
 Our very scornful Dead, 
 
 If you love me as I love you, 
 All Earth is servant to us two ? 
 
 By Docket, Billetdoux, and File, 
 
 By Mountain, Cliff, and Fir, 
 By Fan and Sword and Office-box, 
 
 By Corset, Plume, and Spur, 
 By Riot, Revel, Waltz, and War, 
 
 By Women, Work, and Bills, 
 By all the life that fizzes in 
 
 The everlasting Hills, 
 
 If you love me as I love you, 
 What pair so happy as we two ? 
 
 12 
 
178 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 CERTAIN MAXIMS OF HAFIZ., 
 i. 
 
 IF It be pleasant to look on, stalled in the packed 
 
 serai, 
 Does not the Young Man try Its temper and 
 
 pace ere he buy ? 
 If She be pleasant to look on, what does the 
 
 Young Man say ? 
 " Lo ! She is pleasant to look on, give Her to 
 
 me to-day ! " 
 
 II. 
 
 Yea, though a Kafir die, to him is remitted Je- 
 
 hannum 
 If he borrowed in life from a native at sixty per 
 
 cent per annum. 
 
CERTAIN MAXIMS OF HAFIZ. 179 
 
 III. 
 
 Blister we not for bursati ? So when the heart 
 
 is vext, 
 The pain of one maiden's refusal is drowned in 
 
 the pain of the next. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The temper of chums, the love of your wife, and 
 
 a new piano's tune 
 Which of the three will you trust at the end of 
 
 an Indian June? 
 
 v. 
 
 Who are the rulers of Ind to whom shall we 
 
 bow the knee ? 
 Make your peace with the women, and men will 
 
 make you L. G. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Does the woodpecker flit round the young fer ash ? 
 
 Does grass clothe a new-built wall ? 
 Is she under thirty, the woman who holds a boy 
 
 in her thrall ? 
 
180 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 VII. 
 
 If She grow suddenly gracious reflect. Is it 
 
 all for thee ? 
 The black-buck is stalked through the bullock, 
 
 and Man through jealousy. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Seek not for favor of women. So shall you find 
 
 it indeed. 
 Does not the boar break cover just when you're 
 
 lighting a weed ? 
 
 IX. 
 
 If He play, being young and ujiskilf ul, for shekels 
 
 of silver and gold, 
 Take His money, my son, praising Allah. The 
 
 kid was ordained to be sold. 
 
 x. 
 
 With a " weed " among men or horses verily this 
 
 is the best, 
 That you work him in office or dog-cart lightly 
 
 but give him no rest. 
 
CERTAIN MAXIMS OF HAFIZ. 181 
 
 XI. 
 
 Pleasant the snaffle of Courtship, improving the 
 
 manners and carriage ; 
 But the colt who is wise will abstain from the 
 
 terrible thorn-bit of Marriage. 
 
 XII. 
 
 As the thriftless gold of the babul, so is the 
 
 gold that we spend 
 On a Derby Sweep, or our neighbor's wife, or 
 
 the horse that we buy from a friend. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 The ways of man with a maid be strange, yet 
 
 simple and tame 
 To the ways of a man with a horse, when selling 
 
 or racing that same. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 In public Her face turneth to thee, and pleasant 
 
 Her smile when ye meet. 
 It is ill. The cold rocks of El-Gidar smile thus 
 
 on the waves at their feet. 
 
182 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 In public Her face is averted, with anger She 
 
 nameth thy name. 
 It is well. Was there ever a loser content with 
 
 the loss of the game ? 
 
 XV. 
 
 If She have spoken a word, remember thy lips 
 
 are sealed, 
 And the Brand of the Dog is upon him by whom 
 
 is the secret revealed. 
 If She have written a letter, delay not an instant, 
 
 but burn it. 
 Tear it in pieces, Fool, and the wind to her 
 
 mate shall return it ! 
 If there be trouble to Herward, and a lie of the 
 
 blackest can clear, 
 Lie, while thy lips can move or a man is alive to 
 
 hear. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 My Son, if a maiden deny thee and scufflingly bid 
 thee give o'er, 
 
CERTAIN MAXIMS OF HAFIZ. 183 
 
 Yet lip meets with lip at the last ward get out ! 
 
 She has been there before. 
 They are pecked on the ear and the chin and the 
 
 nose who are lacking in lore. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 I we fall in the race, though we win, the hoof- 
 slide is scarred on the course. 
 
 Though Allah and Earth pardon Sin, remaineth 
 forever Remorse. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 " By all I am misunderstood ! " if the Matron 
 
 shall say, or the Maid : 
 " Alas ! I do not understand," my son, be thou 
 
 nowise afraid. 
 In vain in the sight of the Bird is the net of the 
 
 Fowler displayed. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 My son, if I, Hafiz, thy father, take hold of thy 
 knees in my pain, 
 
184 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 Demanding thy name on stamped paper, one day 
 
 or one hour refrain. 
 Are the links of thy fetters so light that thou 
 
 cravest another man's chain ? 
 
THE GRAVE OF THE HUNDRED HEAD. 185 
 
 THE GRAVE OF THE HUNDRED HEAD. 
 
 THERE'S a widow in sleepy Chester 
 Who weeps for her only son ; 
 
 There's a grave on the Pdbeng River, 
 A grave that the Burmans shun, 
 
 And there's Subadar Prag Tewarri 
 Who tells how the work was done. 
 
 A Snider squibbed in the jungle, 
 
 Somebody laughed and fled, 
 And the men of the first Shikaris 
 
 Picked up their Subaltern dead, 
 With a big blue mark in his forehead 
 
 And the back blown out of his head. 
 
 Subadar Prag Tewarri, 
 Jemadar Pira Lai, 
 
186 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 Took command of the party, 
 
 Twenty rifles in all, 
 Marched them down to the river 
 
 As the day was beginning to fall. 
 
 They buried the boy by the river, 
 
 A blanket over his face 
 They wept for their dead Lieutenant, 
 
 The men of an alien race 
 They made a samddh in his honor, 
 
 A mark for his resting-place. 
 
 For they swore by the Holy Water, 
 They swore by the salt they ate, 
 
 That the soul of Lieutenant Eshmitt Sahib 
 Should go to his God in state ; 
 
 With fifty file of Burman 
 To open him Heaven's gate. 
 
 The men of the First Shikaris 
 Marched till the break of day, 
 
THE GRAVE OF THE HUNDRED HEAD. 187 
 
 Till they came to the rebel village, 
 The village of the Pabengmay 
 
 A jingal covered the clearing, 
 Calthrops hampered the way. 
 
 Subadar Prag Tewarri, 
 
 Bidding them load with ball, 
 
 Halted a dozen rifles 
 Under the village wall ; 
 
 Sent out a flanking-party 
 With Jemadar Hira Lai. 
 
 The men of the First Shikaris 
 Shouted and smote and slew, 
 
 Turning the grinning jingal 
 On to the howling crew. 
 
 The Jemadar's flanking-party 
 Butchered the folk who flew. 
 
 Long was the morn of slaughter, 
 Long was the list of slain. 
 
188 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 Five score heads were taken, 
 
 Five score heads and twain ; 
 And the men of the First Shikaris 
 
 Went back to their grave again, 
 
 Each man bearing a basket 
 
 Red as his palms that day. 
 Red as the blazing villag e 
 
 The village of Pabengmay. 
 And the " drip-drip-drip " from the baskets 
 
 Reddened the grass by the way. 
 
 They made a pile of their trophies 
 
 High as a tall man's chin, 
 Head upon head distorted, 
 
 Set in a sightless grin, 
 Anger and pain and terror 
 
 Stamped on the smoke-scorched skin. 
 
 Subadar Prag Tewarri 
 Put the head of the Boh 
 
THE GRAVE OF THE HUNDRED HEAD. 189 
 
 On the top of the mound of triumph, 
 
 The head of his son below. 
 With the sword and the peacock-banner 
 
 That the world might behold and know. 
 
 Thus the samddh was perfect, 
 
 Thus was the lesson plain 
 Of the wrath of the First Shikaris 
 
 The price of a white man slain ; 
 And the men of the First Shikaris 
 
 Went back into camp again. 
 
 
 
 Then a silence came to the river, 
 
 A hush fell over the shore, 
 And Bohs that were brave departed, 
 And Sniders squibbed no more ; 
 For the Burmans said 
 That a kullaKs head 
 Must be paid for with heads five score. 
 
 There's a widow in sleepy Chester 
 Who weeps for her only son ; 
 
190 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 There's a grave on the Pabeng River, 
 A grave that the Burmans shun. 
 
 And there's Siibadar Prag Tewarri 
 Who tells how the work was done. 
 
THE MOON OF OTHER DAYS. 191 
 
 THE MOON OF OTHER DAYS. 
 
 BENEATH the deep veranda's shade, 
 
 When bats begin to fly, 
 I sit me down and watch alas ! 
 
 Another evening die. 
 Blood-red behind the sere fer ash 
 
 She rises through the haze. 
 Sainted Diana ! can that be 
 
 The Moon of Other Days? 
 
 Ah ! shade of little Kitty Smith, 
 
 Sweet Saint of Kensington ! 
 Say, was it ever thus at Home 
 
 The Moon of August shone, 
 When arm in arm we wandered long 
 
 Through Putney's evening haze, 
 And Hammersmith was Heaven beneath 
 
 The Moon of Other Days ? 
 
192 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 But Wandle's stream is Sutlej now, 
 
 And Putney's evening haze 
 The dust that half a hundred kine 
 
 Before my window raise. 
 Unkempt, unclean, athwart the mist 
 
 The seething city looms, 
 In place of Putney's golden gorse 
 
 The sickly babul blooms. 
 
 Glare down, old Hecate, through the dust, 
 
 And bid the pie-dog yell, 
 Draw from the drain its typhoid-germ, 
 
 From each bazaar its smell ; 
 Yea, suck the fever from the tank 
 
 And sap my strength therewith : 
 Thank Heaven, you show a smiling face 
 
 To little Kitty Smith ! 
 
THE OVERLAND MAIL. 193 
 
 THE OVERLAND MAIL. 
 
 (Foot-Service to the Hills.) 
 
 IN the name of the Empress of India, make 
 
 way, 
 
 Lords of the Jungle, wherever you roam. 
 The woods are astir at the close of the day 
 
 We exiles are waiting for letters from Home. 
 Let the robber retreat let the tiger turn tail 
 In the Name of the Empress, the Overland 
 Mail! 
 
 With a jingle of bells as the dusk gathers in, 
 He turns to the foot-path that heads up the 
 
 hill- 
 
 The bags on his back and a cloth round his chin, 
 And, tucked in his waist-belt, the Post Office 
 
 bill: 
 
 " Despatched on this date, as received by the rail, 
 Per runner, two bags of the Overland Mail." 
 
194 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 Is the torrent in spate ? He must ford it or 
 
 swim. 
 Has the rain wrecked the road ? He must 
 
 climb by the cliff. 
 Does the tempest cry "Halt"? What are 
 
 tempests to him ? 
 
 The Service admits not a " but" or an " if." 
 While the breath's in his mouth, he must bear 
 
 without fail, 
 In the Name of the Empress, the Overland Mail. 
 
 t 
 From aloe to rose-oak, from rose-oak to fir, 
 
 From level to upland, from upland to crest, 
 From rice-field to rock-ridge, from rock-ridge to 
 
 spur, 
 Fly the soft sandaled feet, strains the brawny 
 
 brown chest. 
 From rail to ravine to the peak from the 
 
 vale 
 
 Up, up through the night goes the Overland 
 Mail. 
 
THE OVERLAND MAIL. 195 
 
 There's a speck on the hillside, a dot on the 
 
 road 
 
 A jingle of bells on the foot-path below 
 There's a scuffle above in the monkey's abode 
 The world is awake, and the clouds are aglow. 
 For the great Sun himself must attend to the 
 
 hail :- 
 
 " In the name of the Empress, the Overland 
 Mail ! " 
 
196 OTHEB VEESES. 
 
 WHAT THE PEOPLE SAID. 
 
 (June 21st, 1887.) 
 
 BY the well, where the bullocks go 
 
 Silent and blind and slow 
 
 By the field where the young corn dies 
 
 In the face of the sultry skies, 
 
 They have heard, as the dull Earth hears 
 
 The voice of the wind of an hour, 
 
 The sound of the Great Queen's voice : 
 
 " My God hath given me years, 
 
 Hath granted dominion and power : 
 
 And I bid you, Land, rejoice." 
 
 And the plowman settles the share 
 More deep in the grudging clod ; 
 For he saith : " The wheat is my care, 
 And the rest is the will of God. 
 " He sent the Mahratta spear 
 As He sendeth the rain, 
 
WHAT THE PEOPLE SAID. 197 
 
 And the Mlech, in the fated year, 
 
 Broke the spear in twain, 
 
 And was broken in turn. Who knows 
 
 How our Lords make strife ? 
 
 It is good that the young wheat grows, 
 
 For the bread is Life." 
 
 Then, far and near, as the twilight drew, 
 
 Hissed up to the scornful dark 
 Great serpents, blazing, of red and blue, 
 That rose and faded, and rose anew, 
 
 That the Land might wonder and mark 
 " To-day is a day of days," they said, 
 " Make merry, People, all ! " 
 And the Plowman listened and bowed his head : 
 " To-day and to-morrow God's will," he said, 
 As he trimmed the lamps on the wall. 
 
 " He sendeth us years that are good, 
 As He sendeth the dearth. 
 He giveth to each man his food, 
 Or Her food to the Earth. 
 
198 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 Our Kings and our Queens are afar 
 On their peoples be peace 
 God bringeth the rain to the Bar, 
 That our cattle increase." 
 
 And the Plowman settled the share 
 
 More deep in the sun-dried clod : 
 
 " Mogul, Mahratta, and Mlech from the North, 
 
 And White Queen over the Seas 
 
 God raiseth them up and driveth them forth 
 
 As the dust of the plowshare flies in the 
 
 breeze ; 
 
 But the wheat and the cattle are all my care, 
 And the rest is the will of God." 
 
THE UNDERTAKER'S HORSE. 199 
 
 THE UNDERTAKER'S HORSE. 
 
 " To-tschin-shu is condemned to death. How can he 
 drink tea with the Executioner ? " Japanese Proverb. 
 
 THE eldest son bestrides him, 
 
 And the pretty daughter rides him, 
 
 And I meet him oft o' mornings on the Course ; 
 
 And there wakens in my bosom 
 
 An emotion chill and gruesome 
 
 As I canter past the Undertaker's Horse. 
 
 Neither shies he nor is restive, 
 But a hideously suggestive 
 Trot, professional and placid, he affects ; 
 And the cadence of his hoof-beats 
 To my mind, this grim reproof beats : 
 " Mend your pace, my friend, I'm coming. Who's 
 the next ? " 
 
200 OTHER, VERSES. 
 
 Ah ! tud-bred of ill-omen, 
 
 I have watched the strongest go men 
 
 Of pith and might and muscle at your heels, 
 
 Down the plantain-bordered highway, 
 
 (Heaven send it ne'er be my way ! ) 
 
 In a lacquered box and jetty upon wheels. 
 
 Answer, somber beast and dreary, 
 
 Where is Brown, the young, the cheery, 
 
 Smith, the pride of all his friends and half the 
 
 Force ? 
 
 You were at that last dread dak 
 We must cover at a walk, 
 Bring them back to me, Undertaker's Horse ! 
 
 With your mane unhogged and flowing, 
 
 And your curious way of going, 
 
 And that business-like black crimping of your 
 
 tail, 
 E'en with Beauty on your back, sir, 
 
THE UNDERTAKER'S HORSE. 201 
 
 Pacing as a lady's hack, Sir, 
 
 What wonder when I meet you I turn pale ? 
 
 It may be you wait your time, Beast, 
 
 Till I write my last bad rhyme, Beast, 
 
 Quit the sunlight, cut the rhyming, drop the 
 
 glass, 
 
 Follow after with the others, 
 Where some dusky heathen smothers 
 Us with marigolds in lieu of English grass. 
 
 Or, perchance, in years to follow, 
 
 I shall watch your plump sides hollow, 
 
 See Carnifex (gone lame) become a corse, 
 
 See old age at last o'erpower you, 
 
 And the Station Pack devour you, 
 
 I shall chuckle then, Undertaker's Horse ! 
 
 But to insult, gibe, and quest, I've 
 Still the hideously suggestive 
 
202 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 Trot that hammers out the grim and warning 
 
 text, 
 
 And I hear it hard behind me, 
 In what place soe'er I find me : 
 " Sure to catch you sooner or later. Who's the 
 
 next?" 
 
THE FALL OF JOCK GILLESPIE. 203 
 
 THE FALL OF JOCK GILLESPIE. 
 
 THIS fell when dinner-time was done 
 'Twixt the first an' the second rub 
 
 That oor man Jock cam' hame again 
 To his rooms ahint the Club. 
 
 An' syne he laughed, an' syne he sang, 
 An' syne we thocht him fou, 
 
 An' syne he trumped his partner's trick, 
 An' garred his partner rue. 
 
 Then up and spake an elder mon, 
 
 That held the Spade its Ace 
 u God save the lad ! Whence comes the licht 
 
 That wimples on his face ? " 
 
204 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 An' Jock he sniggered, an' Jock he smiled, 
 An' ower the card-brim wunk : 
 
 " I'm a' too fresh fra' the stirrup-peg, 
 May be that I am drunk." 
 
 " There's whusky brewed in Galashiels, 
 An' L. L. L. f orbye ; 
 
 But never liquor lit the low 
 
 * 
 
 That keeks fra' oot your eye. 
 
 " There's a thrid o' hair on your dress-coat breast, 
 
 Aboon the heart a wee?" 
 " Oh ! that is fra' the lang-haired Skye 
 
 That slobbers ower me." 
 
 " Oh ! lang-haired Skyes are lovin' beasts, 
 
 An' terrier dogs are fair, 
 
 But never yet was terrier born 
 
 Wi' ell-lang gowden hair ! 
 
THE FALL OF JOCK GILLESPIB. 205 
 
 " There's a smirch o' pouther on your breast, 
 
 Below the left lappel ? " 
 " Oh ! that is fra' my auld cigar, 
 
 Whenas the stump-end fell." 
 
 " Mon Jock, ye smoke the Trichi coarse, 
 
 For ye are short o' cash, 
 An' best Havanas couldna leave 
 
 Sae white an' pure an ash. 
 
 " This nicht ye stopped a story braid, 
 An' stopped it wi' a curse 
 
 Last nicht ye told that tale yoursel, 
 An' capped it wi' a worse ! 
 
 " Oh ! we're no f ou ! Oh ! we're no f ou ! 
 
 But plainly we can ken 
 Ye're fallin,' falling fra the band 
 
 0' cantie single men ! " 
 
206 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 An' it fell when sirHs-shaws were sere, 
 An' the nichts were lang and mirk, 
 
 In braw new breeks, wi' a gowden ring, 
 Oor Jockie gaed to the Kirk. 
 
ARITHMETIC ON THE FRONTIER. 207 
 
 ARITHMETIC ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 A GREAT and glorious thing it is 
 To learn, for seven years or so, 
 
 The Lord knows what of that and this. 
 Ere reckoned fit to face the foe 
 
 The flying bullet down the Pass, 
 
 That whistles clear : " All flesh is grass." 
 
 Three hundred pounds per annum spent 
 On making brain and body meeter 
 
 For all the murderous intent 
 
 Comprised in " villanous saltpetre ! " 
 
 And after ask the Yusufzaies 
 
 What comes of all our 'ologies. 
 
 A scrimmage in a Border Station 
 A canter down some dark defile 
 
208 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 Two thousand pounds of education 
 
 Drops to a ten-rupee jezail 
 The Crammer's boast, the Squadron's pride, 
 Shot like a rabbit in a ride ! 
 
 No proposition Euclid wrote, 
 
 No formulae the text books know, 
 
 Will turn the bullet from your coat, 
 Or ward the tulwar's downward blow. 
 
 Strike hard who cares shoot straight who can- 
 
 The odds are on the cheaper man. 
 
 One sword-knot stolen from the camp 
 Will pay for all the school expenses 
 
 Of any Kurrum Valley scamp 
 
 Who knows no word or moods and tenses, 
 
 But, being blessed with perfect sight, 
 
 Picks off our messmates left and right. 
 
 With home-bred hordes the hill-sides teem, 
 The troop-ships bring us one by one, 
 
ARITHMETIC ON THE FRONTIER. 209 
 
 At vast expense of time and steam, 
 To slay Afridis where they run. 
 The " captives of our bow and spear " 
 
 Are cheap alas ! as we are dear. 
 14 
 
210 OTHER VEESES. 
 
 ONE VICEROY RESIGNS. 
 
 (Lord Dufferin to Lord Lansdowne.) 
 
 So here's your Empire. No more wine, then ? 
 
 Good. 
 
 We'll clear the Aides and khitmatgars away. 
 (You'll know that fat old fellow with the knife 
 He keeps the Name Book, talks in English too. 
 And almost thinks himself the Government.) 
 
 Youth, Youth, Youth ! Forgive me, you're so 
 
 young. 
 
 Forty from sixty twenty years of work 
 And power to back the working. A y de mi ! 
 You want to know, you want to see, to touch, 
 And, by your lights, to act. It's natural. 
 
 1 wonder can I help you. Let me try. 
 
 You saw what did you see from Bombay east ? 
 Enough to frighten any one but me ? 
 
ONE VICEROY RESIGNS. 211 
 
 Neat that ! It frightened Me in Eighty-Four ! 
 You shouldn't take a man from Canada 
 And bid him smoke in powder magazines ; 
 Nor with a Reputation such as Bah ! 
 That ghost has haunted me for twenty years, 
 My Reputation now full blown Your fault 
 Yours, with your stories of the strife at Home, 
 Who's up, who's down, who leads and who is 
 
 led- 
 
 One reads so much, one hears so little here. 
 Well, now's your turn of exile. I go back 
 To Rome and leisure. All roads lead to Rome, 
 Or books the refuge of the destitute. 
 When you . . . that brings me back to India 
 
 See ! . 
 
 Start clear. I couldn't. Egypt served my turn. 
 You'll never plumb the Oriental mind, 
 And if you did it isn't worth the toil. 
 Think of a sleek French priest in Canada ; 
 Divide by twenty half-breeds. Multiply 
 By twice the Sphinx's silence. There's your East, 
 
212 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 And you're as wise as ever. So am I. 
 
 Accept on trust and work in darkness, strike 
 At venture, stumble forward, make your mark, 
 (It's chalk on granite), then thank God no flame 
 Leaps from the rock to shrivel mark and man. 
 I'm clear my mark is made. Three months of 
 
 drought 
 
 Had ruined much. It rained and washed away 
 The specks that might have gathered on my 
 
 Name. 
 
 I took a country twice the size of France, 
 And shuttered up one doorway in the North. 
 I stand by those. You'll find that both will pay, 
 I pledged my Name on both they're yours 
 
 to-night. 
 
 Hold to them they hold fame enough for two. 
 I'm old, but I shall live till Burma pays. 
 Men there not German traders Cr-sthw-te 
 
 knows 
 
 You'll find it in my papers. For the North 
 Guns always quietly but always guns. 
 
ONE VICEROY RESIGNS. 213 
 
 You've seen your Council? Yes, they'll try to 
 
 rule, 
 
 And prize their Reputations. Have you met 
 A grim lay-reader with a taste for coins, 
 And faith in Sin most men withhold from 
 
 God? 
 
 He's gone to England. R-p-n knew his grip 
 And kicked. A Council always has its H-pes. 
 They look for nothing from the West but Death 
 Or Bath or Bournemouth. Here's their ground. 
 
 They fight 
 
 Until the middle classes take them back, 
 One of ten millions plus a C. S. I. 
 Or ^rop in harness. Legion of the Lost? 
 Not altogether earnest, narrow men, 
 But chiefly earnest, and they'll do your work, 
 And end by writing letters to the Times. 
 (Shall / write letters, answering H-nt-r fawn 
 With R-p-n on the Yorkshire grocers ? Ugh !) 
 They have their Reputations. Look to one 
 I work with him the smallest of them all, 
 
214 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 White-haired, red-faced, who sat the plunging 
 
 horse 
 
 Out in the garden. He's your right-hand man, 
 And dreams of tilting W Is y from the throne, 
 But while he dreams gives work we cannot buy; 
 He has his Reputation wants the Lords 
 By way of Frontier Roads. Meantime, I think, 
 He values very much the hand that falls 
 Upon his shoulder at the Council table 
 Hates cats and knows his business : which is 
 
 yours. 
 
 Your business ! Twice a hundred million souls. 
 Your business ! I could tell you what I did 
 Some nights of Eighty-Five, at Simla, worth^ 
 A Kingdom's ransom. When a big ship drives, 
 God know r s to what new reef the man at the 
 
 wheel 
 
 Prays with the passengers. They lose their lives, 
 Or rescued go their way ; but he's no man 
 To take his trick at the wheel again that's 
 
 worse 
 
ONE VICEROY RESIGNS. 215 
 
 Than drowning. Well, a galled Mashobra mule 
 (You'll see Mashobra) passed me on the Mall, 
 And I was some fool's wife had ducked and 
 
 bowed 
 
 To show the others I would stop and speak. 
 Then the mule fell three galls, a hand-breadth 
 
 each, 
 
 Behind the withers. Mrs. Whatsisname 
 Leers at the mule and me by turns, thweet 
 
 thoul ! 
 
 " How could they make him carry such a load ! " 
 I saw it isn't often I dream dreams 
 More than the mule that minute smoke and 
 
 flame 
 
 From Simla to the haze below. That's weak. 
 You're younger. You'll dream dreams before 
 
 you've done. 
 You've youth, that's one good workmen that 
 
 means two 
 
 Fair chances in your favor. Fate's the third. 
 I know what / did. Do you ask me, " Preach " ? 
 
216 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 I answer by my past or else go back 
 
 To platitudes of rule or take you thus 
 
 In confidence and say : " You know the trick : 
 
 You've governed Canada. You know. You 
 
 know ! " 
 
 And all the while commend you to Fate's hand 
 (Here at the top one loses sight o' God), 
 Commend you, then, to something more than 
 
 you 
 
 The Other People's blunders and . . . that's all. 
 I'd agonize to serve you if I could. 
 It's incommunicable, like the cast 
 That drops the tackle with the gut adry. 
 Too much too little there's your salmon lost ! 
 And so I tell you nothing wish you luck, 
 And wonder how I wonder ! for your sake 
 And triumph for my own. You're young, you're 
 
 young, 
 
 You hold to half a hundred Shibboleths. 
 I'm old. I followed Power to the last, 
 Gave her my best, and Power followed Me. 
 
ONE VICEROY RESIGNS. 217 
 
 It's worth it on my soul I'm speaking plain, 
 
 Here by the claret glasses ! worth it all. 
 
 I gave no matter what I gave I win. 
 
 I know I win. Mine's wort, good work that 
 
 live ! 
 
 A country twice the size of France the North 
 Safeguarded. That's my record : sink the rest 
 And better if you can. The Rains may serve, 
 Rupees may rise three pence will give you 
 
 Fame 
 
 It's rash to hope for sixpence If they rise 
 Get guns, more guns, and lift the salt-tax. 
 
 Oh! 
 
 I told you what the Congress meant or thought? 
 I'll answer nothing. Half a year will prove 
 The full extent of time and thought you'll spare 
 To Congress. Ask a Lady Doctor once 
 How little Begums see the light deduce 
 Thence how the True Reformer's child is born. 
 It's interesting, curious . . . and vile. 
 I told the Turk he was a gentleman. 
 
218 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 I told the Russian that his Tartar veins 
 Bled pure Parisian ichor ; and he purred. 
 The Congress doesn't purr. I think it swears. 
 You're young you'll swear too ere you've reached 
 
 the end. 
 
 The End ! God help you, if there be a God. 
 (There must be one to startle Gl-dst-ne's soul 
 In that new land where all the wires are cut, 
 And Cr-ss snores anthems on the asphodel.) 
 God help you ! And I'd help you if I could, 
 But that's beyond me. Yes, your speech was 
 
 crude. 
 
 Sound claret after olives yours and mine ; 
 But Medoc slips into vin ordinaire. 
 (I'll drink my first at Genoa to your health.) 
 Raise it to Hock. You'll never catch my style. 
 And, after all, the middle-classes grip 
 The middle-class for Brompton talk Earl's 
 
 Court. 
 Perhaps you're right. I'll see you in the 
 
 Times 
 
ONE VICEROY RESIGNS. 219 
 
 A quarter-column of eye-searing print, 
 A leader once a quarter then a war ; 
 The Strand abellow through the fog : " De- 
 feat ! " 
 
 " 'Orrible slaughter ! " While you lie awake 
 And wonder. Oh>, you'll wonder ere you're 
 
 free ! 
 
 I wonder now. The four years slide away 
 So fast, so fast, and leave me here alone. 
 R y, C-lv-n, L 1, R-b-rts, B-ck, the rest, 
 Princes and Powers of Darkness, troops and 
 
 trains, 
 
 (I cannot sleep in trains), land piled on land, 
 Whitewash and weariness, red rockets, dust, 
 White snows that mocked me, palaces with 
 
 draughts, 
 
 And W-stl-nd with the drafts he couldn't pay, 
 Poor W Is n reading his obituary 
 Before he died, and H-pe, the man with 
 
 bones, 
 And A-tch-s-n a dripping mackintosh 
 
220 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 At Council in the Rains, his grating " Sirrr " 
 Half drowned by H-nt-r's silky : " Bat my 
 
 lahd." 
 
 Hunterian always : M-rsh-1 spinning plates 
 Or standing on his head ; the Rent Bill's roar, 
 A hundred thousand speeches, much red cloth, 
 And Smiths thrice happy if I call them Jones, 
 (I can't remember half their names) or reined 
 My pony on the Mall to greet their wives. 
 More trains, more troops, more dust, and then 
 
 all's done. 
 
 Four years, and I forget. If I forget 
 How will they bear me in their minds ? The 
 
 North 
 
 Safeguarded nearly (R-b-rts knows the rest), 
 A country twice the size of France annexed. 
 That stays at least. The rest may pass may 
 
 pass > 
 
 Your heritage and I can teach you nought. 
 " High trust," "vast honor," " interests twice as 
 
 vast," 
 
ONE VICEROY RESIGNS. 221 
 
 " Due reverence to your Council " keep to 
 
 those. 
 
 I envy you the twenty years you've gained, 
 But not the five to follow. What's that ? One ? 
 Two ! Surely not so late. Good night. Don't 
 
 dream. 
 
222 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 THE BETROTHED. 
 
 " You must choose between me and your cigar." 
 
 OPEN the old cigar-box, get me a Cuba stout, 
 For things are running crossways, and Maggie 
 and I are out. 
 
 We quarreled about Havanas we fought o'er a 
 
 good cheroot, 
 And I know she is exacting, and she says I am 
 
 a brute. 
 
 Open the old cigar-box let me consider a 
 
 space ; 
 In the soft blue veil of the vapor, musing on 
 
 Maggie's face. 
 
THE BETROTHED. 223 
 
 Maggie is pretty to look at Maggie's a loving 
 
 lass. 
 But the prettiest cheeks must wrinkle, the truest 
 
 of loves must pass. 
 
 There's peace in a Laranaga, there's calm in a 
 
 Henry Clay? 
 But the best cigar in an hour is finished and 
 
 thrown away 
 
 Thrown away for another as perfect and ripe and 
 
 brown 
 But I could not throw away Maggie for fear o' 
 
 the talk o' the town ! 
 
 Maggie, my wife at fifty gray and dour and 
 
 old- 
 With never another Maggie to purchase for love 
 
 or gold ! 
 
224 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 And the light of Days that have Been the dark 
 
 of the Days that Are, 
 And Love's torch stinking and stale, like the 
 
 butt of a dead cigar 
 
 The butt of a dead cigar you are bound to keep 
 
 in your pocket 
 With never a new one to light tho' it's charred 
 
 and black to the socket. 
 
 Open the old cigar-box let me consider a 
 
 while 
 Here is a mild Manilla there is a wifely 
 
 smile. 
 
 Which is the better portion bondage bought 
 
 with a ring, 
 Or a harem of dusky beauties fifty tied in a 
 
 string ? 
 
THE BETROTHED. 225 
 
 Counselors cunning and silent comforters true 
 
 and tried. 
 And never a one of the fifty to sneer at a rival 
 
 bride. 
 
 Thought in the early morning, solace in time of 
 
 woes, 
 
 Peace in the hush of the twilight, balm ere my 
 eyelids close. 
 
 This will the fifty give me, asking nought in 
 
 return, 
 With QvljB,$uttee*8 passion to do their duty 
 
 and burn. 
 
 This will the fifty give me. When they are 
 
 spent and dead, 
 Five times other fifties shall be my servants 
 
 instead. 
 
226 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 The furrows of far-off Java, the isles of the 
 
 Spanish Main, 
 When they hear my harem is empty, will send 
 
 me my brides again. 
 
 I will take no heed to their raiment, nor food 
 
 for their mouths withal, 
 So long as the gulls are nesting, so long as the 
 
 showers fall. 
 
 I will scent 'em with best vanilla, with tea will 
 
 I temper their hides, 
 And the Moor and the Mormon shall envy who 
 
 read of the tale of my brides. 
 
 For Maggie has written a letter to give me my 
 
 choice between 
 The wee little whimpering Love and the great 
 
 god Nick o' Teen, 
 
THE BETROTHED. 227 
 
 And I have been servant of Love for barely a 
 
 twelvemonth clear, 
 But I have been Priest of Partagas a matter of 
 
 seven year ; 
 
 And the gloom of my bachelor days is flecked 
 
 with the cheery light 
 Of stumps that I burned to Friendship and 
 
 Pleasure and Work and Fight. 
 
 And I turn my eyes to the future that Maggie 
 
 and I must prove, 
 But the only light on tha marshes is the Will- 
 
 o'-the-Wisp of Love. 
 
 Will it see me safe through my journey, or 
 leave me bogged in the mire ? 
 
 Since a puff of tobacco can cloud it, shall I 
 follow the fitful fire? 
 
228 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 Open the old cigar-box let me consider anew - 
 Old friends, and who is Maggie that I should 
 abandon you? 
 
 A million surplus Maggies are willing to bear 
 
 the yoke ; 
 And a woman is only a woman, but a good cigar 
 
 is a Smoke. 
 
 Light me another Cuba ; I hold to my first-sworn 
 
 vows, 
 If Maggie will have no rival, I'll have no 
 
 Maggie for spouse! 
 
A TALE OF TWO CITIES. 229 
 
 A TALE OF TWO CITIES. 
 
 WHERE the sober-colored cultivator smiles 
 
 On his byles ; 
 Where the cholera, the cyclone, and the crow 
 
 Come and go ; 
 Where the merchant deals in indigo and tea, 
 
 Hides and glii ; 
 Where the Babu drops inflammatory hints 
 
 In his prints ; 
 Stands a City Charnock chose it packed away 
 
 Near a Bay 
 By the sewage rendered fetid, by the sewer 
 
 Made impure, 
 By the Sunderbunds unwholesome, by the swamp 
 
 Moist and damp ; 
 And the City and the Viceroy, as we see, 
 
 Don't agree. 
 
230 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 Once, two hundred years ago, the trader came, 
 
 Meek and tame, 
 
 Where his timid foot first halted, there he 
 stayed, 
 
 Till mere trade 
 Grew to Empire, and he sent his armies forth 
 
 South and North 
 Till the country from Peshawar to Ceylon 
 
 Was his own. 
 
 Thus the mid-day halt of Charnock rnore's the 
 pity! 
 
 Grew a City. 
 As the fungus sprouts chaotic from its bed, 
 
 So it spread 
 Chance-directed, chance-erected, laid and built 
 
 On the silt 
 Palace, byre, hovel poverty and pride 
 
 Side by side ; 
 
 And, above the packed and pestilential 
 town, 
 
 Death looked down. 
 
A TALE OF TWO CITIES. 231 
 
 But the Rulers in that City by the Sea 
 
 Turned to flee 
 Fled, with each returning spring-tide from its ills 
 
 To the Hills. 
 
 From the clammy fogs of morning, from the 
 blaze 
 
 Of the days, 
 From the sickness of the noontide, from the heat, 
 
 Beat retreat ; 
 For the country from Peshawar to Ceylon 
 
 Was their own. 
 But the Merchant risked the perils of the Plain 
 
 For his gain. 
 
 Now the resting-place of Charnock, 'neath the 
 palms, 
 
 Asks an alms, 
 And the burden of its lamentation is, 
 
 Briefly, this : 
 " Because, for certain months, we boil and stew. 
 
 So should you. 
 
232 OTHER VEKSES. 
 
 Cast the Viceroy and his Council, to perspire 
 
 In our fire ! " 
 And for answer to the argument, in vain 
 
 We explain 
 That an amateur Saint Lawrence cannot fry : 
 
 " All must fry ! " 
 That the Merchant risks the perils of the Plain 
 
 For his gain. 
 
 Nor can Rulers rule a house that men grow 
 rich in, 
 
 From its kitchen. 
 
 Let the Babu drop inflammatory hints 
 
 In his prints ; 
 
 And mature consistent soul his plan for steal- 
 ing 
 
 To Darjeeling : 
 Let the Merchant seek, who makes his silver pile, 
 
 England's isle ; 
 Let the City Charnock pitched on evil day I - 
 
 Go Her way. 
 
A TALE OF TWO CITIES. 233 
 
 Though the argosies of Asia at Her doors 
 
 Heap their stores, 
 Though Her enterprise and energy secure 
 
 Income sure, 
 Though " out-station orders punctually obeyed " 
 
 Swell Her trade 
 Stilly for rule, administration, and the rest, 
 
 Simla's best. 
 
234 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 GRIFFEN'S DEBT. 
 
 IMPRIMIS he was " broke." Thereafter left 
 His regiment, and, later, took to drink ; 
 Then, having lost the balance of his friends, 
 " Went Fantee " joined the people of the land, 
 Turned three parts Mussulman and one Hindu, 
 And lived among the Gauri villagers, 
 Who gave him shelter and a wife or twain, 
 And boasted that a thorough, full-blood sahib 
 Had come among them. Thus he spent his time, 
 Deeply indebted to the village shroff, 
 (Who never asked for payment) always drunk, 
 Unclean, abominable, out-at-heels ; 
 Forgetting that he was an Englishman. 
 
 You know they dammed the Gauri with a dam, 
 And all the good contractors scamped their 
 work, 
 
GRIFFEN'S DEBT. 235 
 
 And all the bad material at hand 
 
 Was used to dam the Gauri which was cheap, 
 
 And, therefore, proper. Then the Gauri burst, 
 
 And several hundred thousand cubic tons 
 
 Of water dropped into the valley, flop, 
 
 And drowned some five and twenty villagers, 
 
 And did a lakh or two of detriment 
 
 To crops and cattle. When the flood went 
 
 down 
 
 We found him dead, beneath an old dead horse, 
 Full six miles down the valley. So we said 
 He was a victim to the Demon Drink, 
 And moralized upon him for a week, 
 And then forgot him. Which was natural. 
 
 But, in the valley of the Gauri, men 
 Beneath the shadow of the big new dam 
 Relate a foolish legend of the flood, 
 Accounting for the little loss of life 
 (Only those five and twenty villagers) 
 In this wise : On the evening of the flood, 
 
236 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 They heard the groaning of the rotten dam, 
 And voices of the Mountain Devils. Then 
 An incarnation of the local God, 
 Mounted upon a monster-neighing horse, 
 And flourishing a flail-like whip, came down, 
 Breathing ambrosia, to the villages, 
 And fell upon the simple villagers 
 With yells beyond the power of mortal throat, 
 And blows beyond the power of mortal 
 
 hand, 
 And smote them with the flail-like whip, and 
 
 drove 
 
 Them clamorous with terror up the hill, 
 And scattered, with the monster-neighing steed, 
 Their crazy cottages about their ears, 
 And generally cleared those villages. 
 Then came the water, and the local God, 
 Breathing ambrosia, flourishing his whip, 
 And mounted on his monster-neighing steed, 
 Went down the valley with the flying trees 
 And residue of homesteads, while they watched 
 
 
GKIFFEN'S DEBT. 237 
 
 Safe on the mountain-side these wondrous 
 
 things, 
 And knew that they were much beloved of 
 
 Heaven. 
 
 Wherefore, and when the dam was newly built. 
 
 They raised a temple to the local God, 
 
 And burned all manner of unsavory things 
 
 Upon his altar, and created priests, 
 
 And blew into a conch, and banged a bell, 
 
 And told the story of the Gauri flood 
 
 With circumstance and much embroidery. 
 
 So he the whiskified Objectionable, 
 
 Unclean, abominable, out-at-heels, 
 
 Became the tutelary Deity 
 
 Of all the Gauri valley villages ; 
 
 And may in time become a Solar Myth. 
 
238 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 IN SPRINGTIME. 
 
 MY garden blazes brightly with the rose-bush 
 
 and the peach. 
 And the koil sings above it, in the sir is by 
 
 the well, 
 
 From the creeper-covered trellis comes the squir- 
 rel's chattering speech, 
 And the blue-jay screams and flutters where 
 
 the cheery sat-bhai dwell. 
 But the rose has lost its fragrance, and the kail's 
 
 note is strange ; 
 
 I am sick of endless sunshine, sick of blossom- 
 burdened bough. 
 Give me back the leafless woodlands where the 
 
 winds of Springtime range 
 Give me back one day in England, for it's 
 Spring in England now ! 
 
IN SPRINGTIME. 239 
 
 Through the pines the gusts are booming, o'er 
 
 the brown fields blowing chill, 
 From the furrow of the plowshare streams the 
 
 fragrance of the loam. 
 And the hawk nests on the cliff-side and the 
 
 jackdaw in the hill, 
 And my heart is back in England mid the 
 
 sights and sounds of Home. 
 But the garland of the sacrifice this wealth of 
 
 rose and peach is ; 
 Ah ! kail, little koil, singing on the sir is 
 
 bough, 
 
 In my ears the knell of exile your ceaseless bell- 
 like speech is 
 
 Can you tell me aught of England or of Spring 
 in England now ? 
 
240 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 TWO MONTHS. 
 
 IN JUNE. 
 
 No hope, no change ! The clouds have shut 
 
 us in 
 And through the clouds the sullen Sun strikes 
 
 down 
 
 Full on the bosom of the tortured Town. 
 Till Night falls heavy as remembered sin 
 That will not suffer sleep or thought of ease. 
 And, hour on hour, the dry-eyed Moon in 
 
 spite 
 Glares through the haze and mocks with 
 
 watery light 
 The torment of the uncomplaining trees. 
 
 Far off, the Thunder bellows her despair 
 To echoing Earth, thrice parched. The light- 
 nings fly 
 
TWO MONTHS. 241 
 
 In vain. No help the heaped-up clouds afford, 
 But wearier weight of burdened, burning air. 
 What truce with Dawn ? Look, from the aching 
 
 Day stalks, a tyrant with a flaming sword ! 
 
 IN SEPTEMBER. 
 
 AT dawn there was a murmur in the trees, 
 
 f 
 
 A ripple on the tank, and in the air 
 Presage of coming coolness every- 
 where 
 
 A voice of prophecy upon the breeze. 
 Up leapt the sun and smote the dust to gold, 
 
 And strove to parch anew the heedless land, 
 All impotently, as a King grown old 
 
 Wars for the Empire crumbling 'neath his 
 hand. 
 
 One after one, the lotos-petals fell, 
 
 Beneath the onslaught of the rebel year 
 16 
 
242 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 In mutiny against a furious sky ; 
 And far-off Winter whispered : " It is well ! 
 Hot Summer dies. Behold, your help is near. 
 For when men's need is sorest, then come I." 
 
THE GALLEY-SLAVE. 243 
 
 THE GALLEY-SLAVE. 
 
 OH, gallant was our galley from her carven 
 
 steering-wheel 
 To her figurehead of silver and her beak of 
 
 hammered steel ; 
 The leg-bar chafed the ankle, and we gasped for 
 
 cooler air, 
 But no galley on the water with our galley could 
 
 compare 1 
 
 Our bulkheads bulged with cotton and our masts 
 
 were stepped in gold 
 We ran a mighty merchandise of niggers in the 
 
 hold ; 
 
244 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 The white foam spun behind us, and the black 
 
 shark swam below, 
 As we gripped the kicking sweep-head and we 
 
 made that galley go. 
 
 It was merry in the galley, for we reveled now 
 
 and then 
 If they wore us down like cattle, faith, we fought 
 
 and loved like men ! 
 As we snatched her through the water, so we 
 
 snatched a minute's bliss, 
 And the mutter of the dying never spoiled the 
 
 lovers' kiss. 
 
 Our women and our children toiled beside us in 
 
 the dark 
 They died, we filed their fetters, and we heaved 
 
 them to the shark 
 We heaved them to the fishes, but so fast the 
 
 galley sped, 
 We had only time to envy, for we could not 
 
 mourn our dead. 
 
THE GALLEY-SLAVE. 245 
 
 Bear witness, once my comrades, what a hard-bit 
 gang were we 
 
 The servants of the sweep-head, but the masters 
 of the sea ! 
 
 By the hands that drove her forward as she 
 plunged and yawed and sheered. 
 
 Woman, Man, or God or Devil, was there any- 
 thing we feared? 
 
 Was it storm ? Our fathers faced it, and a 
 
 wilder never blew ; 
 Earth that waited for the wreckage watched the 
 
 galley struggle through. 
 Burning noon or choking midnight, Sickness, 
 
 Sorrow, Parting, Death ? 
 Nay, our very babes would mock you, had they 
 
 time for idle breath. 
 
 But to-day I leave the galley, and another takes 
 
 my place ; 
 There's my name upon the deck-beam let it 
 
 stand a little space. 
 
246 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 I am free to watch my messmates beating out 
 
 to open main, 
 Free of all that Life can offer -save to handle 
 
 sweep again. 
 
 By the brand upon my shoulder, by the gall of 
 clinging steel, 
 
 By the welt the whips have left me, by the scars 
 that never heal ; 
 
 By eyes grown old with staring through the sun- 
 wash on the brine, 
 
 I am paid in full for service would that service 
 still were mine 1 
 
 Yet they talk of times and seasons and of wo 
 
 the years bring forth, 
 Of our galley swamped and shattered in the 
 
 rollers of the North. 
 When the niggers break the hatches, and the 
 
 decks are gay with gore, 
 And a craven-hearted pilot crams her crashing on 
 
 the shore. 
 
THE GALLEY-SLAVE. 247 
 
 She will need no half-mast signal, minute-gun, 
 
 or rocket-flare, 
 When the cry for help goes seaward, she will 
 
 find her servants there. 
 Battered chain-gangs of the orlop, grizzled drafts 
 
 of years gone by, 
 To the bench that broke their manhood, they shall 
 
 lash themselves and die. 
 
 Hale and crippled, young and aged, paid, deserted, 
 shipped away 
 
 Palace, cot, and lazaretto shall make up the tale 
 that day, 
 
 When the skies are black above them, and the 
 decks ablaze beneath, 
 
 And the top-men clear the raffle with their clasp- 
 knives in their teeth. 
 
 It may be that Fate will give me life and leave to 
 
 row once more 
 Set some strong man free for fighting as I take 
 
 awhile his oar. 
 
248 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 But to-day I leave the galley. Shall I curse her 
 
 service then? 
 God be thanked whate'er comes after, I have 
 
 lived and toiled with Men ! 
 
L'ENVOI. 249 
 
 L'ENVOI. 
 
 ( To whom it may concern. ) 
 
 THE smoke upon your Altar dies, 
 
 The flowers decay, 
 The Goddess of your sacrifice 
 
 Has flown away. 
 What profit then to sing or slay 
 The sacrifice from day to day ? 
 
 " We know the Shrine is void/' they said, 
 
 " The Goddess flown- 
 Yet wreaths are on the Altar laid 
 
 The Altar-Stone 
 Is black with fumes of sacrifice, 
 Albeit She has fled our eyes. 
 
 " For, it may be, if still we sing 
 And tend the Shrine, 
 
250 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 Some Deity on wandering wing 
 
 May there incline ; 
 And, finding all in order meet, 
 Stay while we worship at Her feet.' 
 
THE CONUNDRUM OF THE WORKSHOPS. 251 
 
 THE CONUNDRUM OF THE WORKSHOPS. 
 
 WHEN the flush of a new-born sun fell first on 
 
 Eden's green and gold, 
 Our father Adam sat under the Tree and scratched 
 
 with a stick in the mold ; 
 And the first rude sketch that the world had seen 
 
 was joy to his mighty heart, 
 Till the Devil whispered behind the leaves : " It's 
 
 pretty, but is it art ? " 
 
 Wherefore he called to his wife, and fled to 
 
 fashion his work anew 
 The first of his race who cared a fig for the first, 
 
 most dread review ; 
 And he left his lore to the use of his sons and 
 
 that was a glorious gain 
 When the Devil chuckled : " Is it art ? " in the 
 
 ear of the branded Cain. 
 
252 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 They builded a tower to shiver the sky and 
 
 wrench the stars apart, 
 Till the Devil grunted behind the bricks : " It's 
 
 striking, but is it art ? " 
 The stone was dropped by the quarry-side, and 
 
 the idle derrick swung, 
 While each man talked of the aims of art, and 
 
 each in an alien tongue. 
 
 They fought and they talked in the north and the 
 
 south, they talked and they fought in the west, 
 Till the waters rose on the jabbering land, and 
 
 the poor Eed Clay had rest 
 Had rest till the dank blank-canvas dawn when 
 
 the dove was preened to start, 
 And the Devil bubbled below the keel : " It's 
 
 human, but is it art ? " 
 
 The tale is old as the Eden Tree as new as the 
 
 new-cut tooth 
 For each man knows ere his lip-thatch grows he 
 
 is master of art and truth ; 
 
THE CONUNDRUM OF THE WORKSHOPS. 253 
 
 And each man hears as the twilight nears, to the 
 
 beat of his dying heart, 
 The Devil drum on the darkened pane : " You 
 
 did it, but was it art ? " 
 
 We have learned to whittle the Eden Tree to 
 
 the shape of a surplice-peg, 
 We have learned to bottle our parents twain in 
 
 the yolk of an addled egg, 
 We know that the tail must wag the dog, as the 
 
 horse is drawn by the cart ; 
 But the Devil whoops, as he whooped of old : 
 
 " It's clever, but is it art ? " 
 
 When the flicker of London sun falls faint on 
 
 the club-room's green and gold, 
 The sons of Adam sit them down and scratch 
 
 with their pens in the mold 
 They scratch with their pens in the mold of their 
 
 graves, and the ink and the anguish start 
 When the Devil mutters behind the leaves : " It's 
 
 pretty, but is it art?" 
 
254 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 Now, if we could win to the Eden Tree where 
 
 the four great rivers flow, 
 And the wreath of Eve is red on the turf as she 
 
 left it long ago, 
 And if we could come when the sentry slept, and 
 
 softly scurry through, 
 By the favor of God we might know as much 
 
 as our father Adam knew. 
 
THE EXPLANATION. 255 
 
 THE EXPLANATION. 
 
 
 
 LOVE and Death once ceased their strife 
 At the Tavern of Man's Life. 
 Called for wine, and threw alas ! 
 Each his quiver on the grass. 
 When the bout was o'er they found 
 Mingled arrows strewed the ground. 
 Hastily they gathered then 
 Each the loves and lives of men. 
 Ah ? the fateful dawn deceived ! 
 Mingled arrows each one sheaved : 
 Death's dread armory was stored 
 With the shafts he most abhorred : 
 Love's light quiver groaned beneath 
 Venom-headed darts of Death. 
 Thus it was they wrought our woe 
 
256 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 At the Tavern long ago. 
 
 Tell me, do our masters know, 
 
 Loosing blindly as they fly, 
 
 Old men love while young men die ? 
 
THE GIFT OF THE SEA. 257 
 
 THE GIFT OF THE SEA. 
 
 THE dead child lay in the shroud, 
 
 And the widow watched beside ; 
 And her mother slept, and the Channel swept 
 
 The gale in the teeth of the tide. 
 
 But the widow laughed at all. 
 
 " I have lost my man in the sea, 
 And the child is dead. Be still," she said, 
 
 " What more can you do to me ? " 
 
 And the widow watched the dead, 
 
 And the candle guttered low, 
 And she tried to sing the Passing Song 
 
 That bids the poor soul go. 
 
 17 
 
258 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 And " Mary take you now/' she sang, 
 " That lay against my heart." 
 
 And " Mary smooth your crib to-night/ 
 But she could not say " Depart." 
 
 Then came a cry from the sea, 
 
 But the sea-rime blinded the glass, 
 
 And " Heard ye nothing, mother ? " she said ; 
 " 'Tis the child that waits to pass." 
 
 And the nodding mother sighed. 
 
 " 'Tis a lambing ewe in the whin, 
 For why should the christened soul cry out, 
 
 That never knew of sin ? " 
 
 " Oh, feet I have held in my hand, 
 Oh, hands at my heart to catch, 
 
 How should they know the road to go, 
 And how should they lift the latch ? : 
 
THE GIFT OF THE SEA. 259 
 
 They laid a sheet to the door, 
 
 With the little quilt atop, 
 That it might not hurt from the cold or the dirt, 
 
 But the crying would not stop. 
 
 The widow lifted the latch 
 And strained her eyes to see, 
 
 And opened the door on the bitter shore 
 To let the soul go free. 
 
 There was neither glimmer nor ghost, 
 There was neither spirit nor spark, 
 
 And " Heard ye nothing, mother ? " she said, 
 " 'Tis crying for me in the dark." 
 
 And the nodding mother sighed. * 
 
 " 'Tis sorrow makes ye dull ; 
 
 Have ye yet to learn the cry of the tern, 
 Or the wail of the wind-blown gull?" 
 
260 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 " The terns are blown inland, 
 
 The gray gull follows the plow. 
 'Twas never a bird, the voice I heard, 
 
 mother, I hear it now! " 
 
 " Lie still, dear lamb, lie still ; 
 
 The child is passed from harm, 
 'Tis the ache in your breast that broke your 
 rest, 
 
 And the feel of an empty arm." 
 
 She puts her mother aside, 
 
 " In Mary's name let be ! 
 For the peace of my soul I must go," she said, 
 
 And she went to the calling sea. 
 
 In the heel of the wind-bit pier, 
 Where the twisted weed was piled, 
 
 She came to the life she had missed by an hour, 
 For she came to a little child. 
 
THE GIFT OF THE SEA. 261 
 
 She laid it into her breast, 
 
 And back to her mother she came, 
 
 But it would not feed, and it would not heed, 
 Though she gave it her own child's name. 
 
 And the dead child dripped on her breast, 
 And her own in the shroud lay stark ; 
 
 And, " God forgive us, mother," she said, 
 " We let it die in the dark ! " 
 
262 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 EVARRA AND HIS GODS. 
 
 Read here, 
 
 This is the story of Evarra man 
 Maker of Gods in lands beyond the sea. 
 Because the city gave him of her gold, 
 Because the caravans brought turquoises, 
 Because his life was sheltered by the King, 
 So that no man should maim him, none should 
 
 steal, 
 
 Or break his rest with babble in the streets 
 When he was weary after toil, he made 
 An image of his God in gold and pearl, 
 With turquoise diadem and human eyes, 
 A wonder in the sunshine, known afar 
 And worshiped by the King ; but, drunk with 
 
 pride, 
 Because the city bowed to him for God, 
 
EVARRA AND HIS GODS. 263 
 
 He wrote above the shrine : " Thus Gods are 
 
 made, 
 
 And whoso makes them otherwise shall die." 
 And all the city praised him. . . . Then he 
 
 died. 
 
 Read here the story of Evarra man 
 Maker of Gods in lands beyond the sea. 
 Because his city had no wealth to give, 
 Because the caravans were spoiled afar, 
 Because his life was threatened by the King, 
 So that all men despised him in the streets, 
 He hacked the living rock, with sweat and 
 
 tears, 
 
 And reared a God against the morning-gold, 
 A terror in the sunshine, seen afar, 
 And worshiped by the King ; but, drunk with 
 
 pride, 
 
 Because the city fawned to bring him back, 
 He carved upon the plinth : " Thus Gods are 
 made, 
 
264 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 And whoso makes them otherwise shall 
 
 die." 
 And all the people praised him. . . . Then he 
 
 died. 
 
 Head here the story ofJEvarra man 
 Maker of Gods in lands beyond the sea. 
 Because he lived among the simple folk, 
 Because his village was between the hills, 
 Because he smeared his cheeks with blood of 
 
 ewes, 
 
 He cut an idol from a fallen pine, 
 Smeared blood upon its cheeks, and wedged a 
 
 shell 
 
 Above its brows for eye, and gave it hair 
 Of trailing moss, and plaited straw for 
 
 crown. 
 And all the village praised him for this 
 
 craft, 
 And brought him butter, honey milk, and 
 
 curds. 
 
EVARRA AND HIS GODS. 265 
 
 Wherefore, because the shoutings drove him 
 
 mad, 
 He scratched upon that log : " Thus Gods are 
 
 made, 
 
 And whoso makes them otherwise shall die.' 9 
 And all the people praised him. . . . Then he 
 
 died. 
 
 Read here the story of Evarra man 
 Maker of Gods in lands beyond the sea. 
 Because his God decreed one clot of blood 
 Should swerve a hair's-breadth from the pulse's 
 
 path, 
 
 And chafe his brain, Evarra mowed alone, 
 Kag-wrapped, among the cattle in the fields, 
 Counting his fingers, jesting with the trees, 
 And mocking at the mist, until his God 
 Drove him to labor. Out of dung and 
 
 horns 
 
 Dropped in the mire he made a monstrous 
 God, 
 
266 OTHER VERSES. 
 
 Abhorrent, shapeless, crowned with plaintain 
 
 tufts. 
 
 And when the cattle lowed at twilight-time, 
 He dreamed it was the clamor of lost crowds, 
 And howled among the beasts : " Thus Gods 
 
 are made, 
 
 And whoso makes them otherwise shall die." 
 Thereat the cattle bellowed. . . . Then he died. 
 
 Yet at the last he came to Paradise, 
 
 And found his own four Gods, and that he 
 
 wrote ; 
 
 And marveled, being very near to God, 
 What oaf on earth had made his toil God's law, 
 Till God said, mocking : " Mock not. These be 
 
 thine." 
 Then cried Evarra : " I have sinned ! " " Not 
 
 so. 
 
 If thou hadst written otherwise, thy Gods 
 Had rested in the mountain and the mine, 
 And I were poorer by four wondrous Gods, 
 
EVARRA AND HIS GODS. 267 
 
 And thy more wondrous law, Evarra. Thine, 
 Servant of shouting crowds and lowing kine." 
 Thereat with laughing mouth, but tear-wet eyes, 
 Evarra cast his Gods from Paradise. 
 This is the story of JZvarra man 
 Maker of Gods in lands beyond the sea. 
 
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 General Library 
 
 University of California 
 
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963 
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 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 VC159457