UC-NRLF B 3 ms a3M 1.1 ,1— T. K U'l laaMig PILGRIM'S JOY VERSES BY ARTHUR SHEARLY CRIPPS AUTHOR OF "LYRA EVANGELISTICA *' AND "PILGRIMAGE OF GRACE" y.*: ^ B. H. BLACKWELL, BROAD STREET MCMXVI. NEW YORK AGENTS: LONGMANS, GREEN & CO. FOURTH AVENUE AND 30TH STREET TO R. W. Raper, Esq., Vice-President of Trinity College, Oxford. My verses are none too fresh, but road-stained. Yet you may care for some at least of their dusty colours and borrowed scents. Anyhow the grati- tude wherewith I tie them together for you is evergreen. On Lake Victoria Nyanza. August, 1915. PS. — / am leaving this dedication as it stood, before the news of my dear friend and teacher's passing reached me. May he rest ! SG507o NOTE. My thanks are due to the Editors of " The Treasury,'" " The South African Bookman,'' " The Rhodesian Herald,'' ^^The Rhodesia Church Maga- zine," ^'The East African Standard," and "The Oxford Magazine" for leave to reprint certain verses. I am grateful to Mr. Basil Blackwell for suggesting " Pilgrim's Joy " as the name of this verse hook. CONTENTS. PAGE Pilgrim's Joy (Moses on Pisgah). 3 In a Southern Country. The Grave of Cecil Rhodes 15 The Pioneer 16 News at Night 17 The Grave Beside the Beacon 18 Great Zimbabwe . . . . 19 March Dawn 23 The Store's Site 24 Wedza 26 Veils of the Temple 27 Orate 28 May-Night 29 The Strayed Pagan 30 Acts of Faith 31 In Convertendo 32 God's Own Country 33 Rhodesia's Charter 34 On the Union Government . . 35 Rizpah in South Africa . 36 The Circean South 37 Benedicite . 38 Second Sunrise 39 Dawn and Dusk 40 Sundown . . 41 On Foot . . 42 The Merciful Knight 43 VI. CONTENTS. Under Envoi PAGE The Minor Poet . . • • 47 On Keats" Nile Sonnet • • 49 Chatukuta's Cliff .. • • 50 On the Change of a Mi ssion's Name 51 Mashonaland ft • 52 On Active Service . . • • 53 On going to the War again . . 54 A Southern Cross. A Psalm of a Tabernacle 57 To Our Lady of the Fl ight into Africa 6i To a Mission Named after the Five Wounds .. 63 Vis Inertiae .. 64 Love lies a-bleeding .. 65 The Imitation 66 Agnus Dei .. 67 The Heavenly Vision 68 Sinai in the South . . .. 69 Unchurched 71 Candlemas 72 A Mission Ember Hymn 7S At the River's Drift • • 75 Fire upon Earth • • ■ . 76 The Plague of my own Heart 77 The Last Times • • 1 . 78 A Carol . . • • 79 Bethlehem's Faith • • 80 To our Proto-Martyr • • 81 Saint Paul • • 82 A Two-Land Glee . . • • .. 85 • • • ■ « • • • .. 87 R. W. R. TVT EN go their own roads. He with better will Would tell the road, or make the road, that we Might find our ways, and keep them, and attain. Now his love's labour's glee, its loss and pain. Is left, the last way told, the last road made. Left are the Gardens, left the lime-walk shade, (He paces lawns more husht, and grove more still,) Left Cherwell's pool, and Malvern's lonely hill. I, whom he guided time and time again, I, who tread stones his tir'd hands broke for me, Would mend his road in turn, as yet I may. Would plead his "requiem," and "resuFgat" pray To Whom — but our own Patron Trinity — God, Who is parted not, as friends must be. PILGRIM'S JOY. PILGRIM'S JOY. (Moses on Pisgah). I. ISRAEL'S eternal God my refuge still, Full ill the sun's eye and the sea-wind's breath, I mount the ramparts of my destined hill — Near to my hope, yet nearer to my death. O Everlasting Arms outstretch'd beneath, Upstay my watch an hour (I ask but one), Enfold my slumber when my watch is done. God, for my sin I render sacrifice. Men named me meek, I seem'd not meek to Thee. As unguess'd fire that deep in mountain lies, A many days my passion chaf'd in nie. Pent and constrain'd to stern captivity ; All days but one my rage unseen abode. That day a rebel I with rebels chode. B 2 4 PILGRIM'S JOY. No direst pang may blot my trespass now, Yet here on Moab's peak in morning glow I yield me willing to that Wound of Thine — Immolant anguish, sacrificial woe — A vision of a land I must forego. Ah seel The sun smites thro', the hill-haze clears, And all the goodness of that land appears. And see the sun strike now on yonder hill 1 * One night of stars there, there my feet will stand — Mine, even mine, so loving-kind Thy Will That I at last attain Thy Promised Land. Not without hope I bend me to Thine Hand. By sign of sun upon that desert place — There in time's fulness I will see Thy Face. Now the great plain unfolds, and Prophecy Hath touched my lips. There Gad his flock will feed In forests. There will Ephraim reign on high. There deep in grass and flow'rs is Judah's meed. For milk and honey by his God decreed 1 There among palms how white is Jericho 1 There deep in reed-beds Jordan's waters gol * The Mount of Transfiguration. PILGRIM'S JOY. 5 As he* whose quest was gold, whose doom was steel, I gaze wide-eyed upon a wilderness : I gain the vision that its crags conceal — A lapping sea in hoary loveliness. Thee for all bounteous visions, God, I bless Whether attain'd by undimm'd eyes of mine, Or thus by visionary grace of Thine. Now are mine ears unstopp'd that I may hear Names past my knowledge of the years to be — Taanach by Megiddo's waters clear, Jebus and Gath — harp-chords of victory, With other names of kinder melody — Sweet as bees' droning, shrill as pipers' breath — Kidron, and Bethlehem, and Nazareth. O but to uphold hands on yonder height Aching with weight of a deliv'rance dread, While at the cliff's foot ebb'd and flow'd the fight. And dark the arrows hail'd where Joshua led ! O but to roam, when once our wars were sped, Down yonder vale with shepherd-staff and rod Shepherding flocks and shepherded of God I "^ Balaam. 6 PILGRIM'S JOY. but to watch them rising, fane by fane, More star-approaching piles than Egypt knew, In grove and garden to grow young again — Grove of Hill-Sion hish with Hermon's dew — To be the thing I was (ere yet I slew And trench'd the sand to bury) — seer and sage — With Israel's hope and Egypt's lore for wage I Vainly I dream, I bend me to Thy Will Gladly, and gladly unto Thee resign Dreams of rich price upon this altar hill. Thou dost deny my dreams, and art benign In Thy denial. At my feet they shine Road-fires of Israel. Israel's road is nigh. Ere home be gone — in sight of home I die. My hearths of home were they these forty years, 1 knew no other. Ere the last be lit Let me away, so well long use endears ! How oft by such wild camp-fires would I sit Long nights expectant, as remembering It, It that a night all Horeb's gorge illumed — That crackling thorn-bush burnt but not con- sumed! Six score of years are mine — a triple span Of thrice a forty years, the last were best — As Egypt's mage and prince my course began, PILGRIM'S JOY. 7 Then feeding Midian's flock, a shepherd b'est, With little toil I got to me much rest. Last as a wayfarer God bade me wend Full forty years my way without an end. Both way and I are near an end to-day. My doom I hail, and but my sin deplore. Term of our travel I would not outstay, Death seals me wayfarer for evermore : Happy I die, if so I die before Our road be lost in that whereto it led, And road-fires chang'd for cities kindling red. My shepherd's heart desires no slaughter stern. God in Thy mercy I will lay me down Nor wake till Thou at last from wrath wilt turn, Till Thy wide Love to all the lands be shown, And Moab's psalm will answer Israel's own — " Thy folk my folk, thy God my God shall be : May nought but death part thee and thine from me I" Or if Thou wilt not that I sleep for long. Bid me " arise " and wend that way of Thine (Hope in my heart and in my mouth a song), Road whereabout Thy stars for way-fires shine — So far, so steep — a way these eyes of mine Saw once when high o'er Sinai's heights it shone, Way of a sapphire pavement and a Throne. 8 PILGRIMS JOY. And yet, tho' far Thy palace-road excel All roads in joy, I would forsake it soon. If ever I have folded Israel well These forty years, vouchsafe a shepherd's boon- Leave yet with visionary staff and shoon To seek my stray'd ones, wheresoe'er they be. By loneliest waters of captivity ! IL A/TINE eyes grow dim with dreams as morn- mist gray. Spare me a little, God, a little while — That as a child again an hour I play At holiday, as once by reedy Nile, And seek me sticks, and coax a fire to smile Here in yon hidden glen of shade so deep Grant me to dream the hour ere yet I sleep. Lilies and cloudy pool and limestone cave I In a calm haven after many days God, Who my quest and my much wandering gave. Assigns me rest, and yet not so allays My slakeless thirst to tread untrodden ways — Such roofless ways as forty years I fared — Ways for His people by their God prepared. PILGRIM'S JOY. 9 Our pilgrimage is written in His Book Much for our long road's joys I praise His Name — Under the granite crags His thunders shook, Or under Elim's palm-trees yet the same, Our road — that thro' the glimm'ring sea-sand came So straight for Canaan — doom'd anew to bend, Then after years at Jordan's ford to end. O God, how bright Thy Lantern- Pillar went Red o'er our road aneath the outshone stars ! What cold and rain — fresh shade Thy Cloud- Bank lent To men so faint with wayfaring and wars — What crimson splash'd it of the sunset scars! How ghostly-white Thy Bread ere sunrise shone By which men liv'd, yet not by it alone. Life was there in the words His finger wrote. Life was in that which made the dusk to glow Betwixt the Cherubs, and refracted smote From my meek face His rebels as a foe. He, Whom our vagrant sires besought to go On all their ways — a wayfarer with them, Hath pitched His Tent amid the tents of Shem. 10 PILGRIM'S JOY. From well to well, from palm to palm we went! Remembrance healed, and hope my lips allured — Such balm for weary loads Thy mercy lent. Mindful of sunrise dews I yet endured, Hopeful, by murmur of far brooks assured, I trod the noon-scorch'd desert on and on Till at some deep pool's brim my thirst was gone. An old man nodding o'er a fire, I burn With drouth long-slaked and lips of years ago, Again for affluent pools as once I yearn — Rich pools requiting leagues of fiery woe. Thou wast my God with will my need to know : Thou wast my God, and Thee alike I praise For gentlest nights and stern enhancing days. " Return, O Lord," I prayed as wan'd the light (What old dull paths by night our feet forsook !) "Let God arise" — I crav'd when dawn was bright (What young and venturous paths ere day we took !) Had I but breath — hours written in Thy Book, Hours when the steel would flash, the censer swing. How many and how solemn would f sin PILGRIM'S JOY. II Thou art my God, my life I render Thee. Once more with jealonsy of love I plead — " Come from that Tent of Thy Humility, Bid me to strike, and bid yon rock to heed, Me with new Manna for new travel feed, Chafe limbs too numb with eld, and bid them glow, Then choose my road, and speed me that I go 1 " Mine Aid is near. On cloudy wings He flies, Such fiery clouds as night and morn would play O'er horns of brass aspersed with votive dyes, Such incense-clouds as flutter'd ashen-gray O'er altar's gold and Aaron's jewels gay. Now all the chill from out my heart is gone — With Israel and with Israel's God at one. Not as of old in that Arabian Glen From out a fire chides He mistrust of Him, My love of now is not my fear of then. Unfolds His Vision forty years so dim ! With majesty and glory overbrim These hills of Moab, that they skip for glee, Since Israel now is freed, and I am free. E'en as that Bush inflam'd with God I flame, I will exult in Israel free this day, Far from that house of bondage whence he came, 12 PILGRIM'S JOY. And near to that good land, where from his way Turns not as mine : I will exult and say "To Israel's reapers be Thine harvest shown, Let it suffice Thy servant to have sown ! " Jehovah's Fire consumes my dross, but I Abide, and He abides, and all is well. Let me a last while lift my hands on high Blessing the thousands of His Israel. So many tents, to ev'ry tent farewell ! Tho' I that bless'd be far, may Isaac's Fear And Abram's Friend to ev'ry tent be nearl Israel's Eternal God my Refuge still — Full in the sun's eye, and the Sea-wind's breath, My way unknown, but not unknown His Will, And known the Everlasting Arms beneath, I seek His Vision Whom to see is death. If but that Face the rock once hid He show — I count it joy a Canaan to forego. IN A SOUTHERN COUNTRY. THE GRAVE OF CECIL RHODES. 15 THE GRAVE OF CECIL RHODES. (Pioneer of two Great North Roads — 07ie to Cairo, and one to Oxford). pEET laid to north, he holds our south in fee — Fast in the bondage of a northern spell. Here among southern crags he will'd to dwell, Here among hills so far to south they see No Northern Star, he willed in death to be. His steadfast feet a pole-star message tell — " Northward ! " To storm a desert's citadel ! " Northward ! " O mother of his love, to thee ! Four stars to south rise in the wake of night, No other cross he asks to mark his bed : An ample church he chose as his by right — A blue and roofless church of space and dread — With shades so huge by massy boulders spread, And lights as many as the sun may light. i-_g^^__i i6 IN A SOUTHERN COUNTRY. THE PIONEER. \T ZHEN you are young — to this our land come ^^ forth— While still your English blood is warm and high ; Come, wrest to your own mood her mighty sky, And her huge spaces with your stride engage. And with her homesick wind hard warfare wage — Blowing to west and north I When you be old from this our land go home, — Slow-pulsing English blood asks once again The garden-close, the hedge-rowed hill and plain, The low-lean'd mist-eaves of an autumn day, Grass ever hope's own green, sky often gray — A close-rimm'd friendly dome ! " Nay," will high Grace to shrunken Nature cry, " Man's bravest bouts are fought when blood is cold. Yon burnish'd fury of sun's daily gold, Those stern blue skies, that wind to battle blown, Time fever-gaunt, Space giant-limbed and brown — Have at them one more year ere yet you die ! " NEWS AT NIGHT. 17 NEWS AT NIGHT. T T IS news he read aside a fire, Couch'd in tlie firelight's narrow bound- How God was deaf to his desire : Night drew her siege-Hnes close around, And his one camp-mate slept so sound. His foot hath slipt in Fame's advance : His heart being spent, his head grown white — Doom mounts the throne of dead Perchance. How hope-forlorn yon stars eo bright ! How faith-forlorn his own dull sight 1 Sleep ! Charm his dim eyes into rest I Dawn, urge your steeds that lag so slow I As at a stake (by faith unblest), He writhes beside yon camp-fire's glow. O not to have read I O not to know ! i8 IN A SOUTHERN COUNTRY. THE GRAVE BESIDE THE BEACON. (A grave on a kopje, of one self -slain J. /^UR life flows by him like yon river near, And his eternal plane more overlooks The petty husbandry of our to-day Than his hill-tomb the farm he counted dear Where now another frets his years away. Here he so calm continues in one stay. Here in the winter should be cheer of flowers When yonder graveside boughs in crimson blow. Here at his feet beneath the granite-flakes Set pagan-wise north-west — his way of home — Hills beyond hills in sober glory show. Is he not mulcted while he sleeps or wakes By Christ as rebel — he that cut the knot We fumble over? Mulcted — yet not blind To scene he loved so ? Haply mercies blot His mutinous default, and grace he finds — Grace at all seasons due to read again The wistful riddle of yon hills and plain — So lit, so shaded under blue and gold — To read with riper wisdom than of old. GREAT ZIMBABWE. 19 GREAT ZIMBABWE. ("A corner is lifted of that veil which has shrouded the for- gotten but not irrecoverable past of the African . . ."). — D. R. McIvoR, "Mediaval Rhodesia." T TRACED our slimeless Babel's plan, Its precincts grey in awe I trod. Now, camp'd aneath the sun's outspan, I dream, my pilgrim feet unshod, Dream of the dreams of unseen man — That oblate of an unseen God. How near to-night is Yesterday, And that which was To-Day how far I Watch 1 Did some Heaven-descended ray Flash by, or but a falling star ? Hark ! Is it wind, or is it they — Rous'd dreamers — that my kindred are ? Tower, in the foreground of my dream A broken column incomplete, Tower, nowise mute to me you seem, You that with sphinx-dumb lips will greet The pilgrims to your shrine that stream In heat and haste, nor hush their feet. c 2 20 IN A SOUTHERN COUNTRY. Here while a ruddy flame is lit On yon high altar of the sky, Before your shrine I ask of it My fellow-dreamers' whence and why : While first stars flow'r and rose-glows flit I gain from their dead lips reply. — ♦' It was with us as now with thee, The Vision rapt us and we wrought, Many were blind, few sought to see, But we were of the few that sought. We paid God's heavy price, yet we Saw the scale sink with that we bought. The many cared for herd and hoe. To us the few that Vision came. Flaking the granite, built we slow. Like ranks on like, and still the same, Building for Him to whom men go, Building for Him from whom men came. On us, God's scholars, poor and few. Our forbears' wisdom gleam'd for guide. Old earthen shapes our boyhood knew We graved in Heav'n-aspiring pride ; What were the cirques of stones we drew But rings of wattles glorified ? Our jointed bondless work so true To a great law, a less denied. GREAT ZIMBABWE. 21 Yon orient pattern high and bold Wrought he — the master of us all, — He that for three score years controll'd The northern and the eastern wall. Ere yet we ended, we were old. While yet we raised, were ripe to fall. With curve of flow'r, with bend of stook He plann'd yon heights of granite grey. At last his limbs with palsy shook Urging yon tower its skyward way. Its way of joy to overlook The eastern wall, and hail the day. We made his bed aside the tow'r. That broken column like to him. With bend of stook, with curve of flow'r The east wall shades our eyes grown dim, We lie but shreds beneath the Pow'r Who breaks such pots as overbrim. About the quiet graves we fill Bhnd moles of strangers delve and pry, And they that work our children ill To us their sires our walls deny, — •' Would artless men so nobly will ? " " Would low men leap to task so high ? " 22 IN A SOUTHERN COUNTRY. What name of Ind or Araby They take in vain, it matters not : Walls which our Lord God holds in fee We left no upstart script to blot. Thro' all a world }Iis Wind is free To blow at will man's embers hot : In colour-blind perversity He gave to us His Vision's glee,— Vision our children have forgot, Vision our children yet may see." MARCH DAWN. 23 MARCH DAWN. (On Lady-Day). \\7HO had believ'd an hour agone What time I groped from stone to stone. What time with starry eyes resign'd Heav'n's face watch'd Earth's so blank and bland, How wholly from yon hills their frown Would lift in purple, rose, and brown When once on them the east had shone ? Peach-flow'r and fruit of apricot Out-redden or out-yellow not Yon still blue span of eastern sky. That from the black night took no dye ; From womb of whose virginity When once the sun shall issue free — Who shall believe how night could blot ? Thro' a deep vale my way I trace — The white mist veils its shamefast face Spun from dark ooze and marshland clay. This Daybreak of our Lady's Day I sing my sun-up lands, nor fail Both earth-redeeming Heav'n to hail, And earth redeem'd — so full of grace. 24 IN A SOUTHERN COUNTRY. THE STORE'S SITE. (A memory of 1896) . /^UR path went slipping 'twixt the stones In the clear light of coming day, Amid such solemn-headed trees As ere Spring reigns wear red array. Over a smooth stone floor it pass'd — Stoep that one big bole tented o'er, And as my boot rang on the stones One told me — " Here it stood — the Store." I liad forgot. Remembering then, I bared my head, I bent to pray In thought of them — the nameless twain Trading for grain that winter's day. Maize, from a basket round, one pour'd. One stretch'd a sack agape beneath — Suddenly clutch'd them those brown hands And held them down to wait for death. How long ? How long ? At last it smote— The butcher's spear. 'Twas here they lay. I would not preach here on their fate, But from my very heart I'd pray. THE STORE'S SITE. Yon spruit — they drank from — is not far — There on cold morns a mist mounts high ! When winter's here such trees wear red — As on that winter-morn stood by. 26 IN A SOUTHERN COUNTRY. WEDZA. (A blue mountain in Mashonaland) . i i TT E served a muse as men in olden days — Muse of death-wails and dancers' mar- riage glee " — So when my last song's written, write of me, And add — "he crown'd her sun-burnt hills with bays, Green-bays of oblate dreams and votive lays. No Delphic mount or Helicon for him I But looking east to Wedza-peak he dream'd — Wedza so blue afar, at hand so grim. Midwife of happy Dawn to him she seemed — To him far westward wending footsore ways. She heartened him his sunset beads to tell Those years his night was falling, ere it fell." VEILS OF THE TEMPLE 27 VEILS OF THE TEMPLE. r^ LORY of veils I The blue soft veil that fell Betwixt Christ's Feet and us that hour He rose To Heaven's high keep, where eyelet stars dis- close How Dusk is bright within that citadel. Glory of veils I Yon veil at end of day Shaded with thunder-threats purpureal, Misted with tears unfall'n and yet to fall, Dappled with youth's blush-red and pity's gray. Glory of veils I Veils woven of our streams What time our winters come, our summers go — Wooing the land Morn lit with lad's-love glow. Till she, a sun-brown lass, grow white with dreams. 28 IN A SOUTHERN COUNTRY. ORATE. (hi early Mashonaland Summei). 'TTHE burden of our desert of the south ! When thirst's lips crack a miscnll'd rain- month long, And from south-east our bitter wind blows strong, And our sun sucks as swollen leech his pre}-, And shallows parch, and low pools drain away — Lapp'd by his unslak'd mouth. You, in cool gloom of some November noon, You, when dew-fresh September daylights close, You, when October's leaves are gold and rose. Bear, as Christ bids you, burden of our swoon 1 Pray that a north wind lift our burden soon ! MAY NIGHT. 29 MAY NIGHT. (In Mashonaland). n^HE breast-high grasses now need shudder less At a wild wind's distress. Now all hours laid by, but the last of day And best, the glow begins. Now all is calm and comfort, far away Are flown besetting sins : One needs an act of faith to feel them blow — Wrath and wan hope — twain guests that vext us so. Now, when the rose and gold on high I see, And embers grey burn rose and gold in me, I'd find by sleight of dreams a way I've lost (Roofd with red thorn and white thorn budding new Beneath a bright May night of melting blue). O but to find it now were worth all cost Of old vain searches, and of last year's frost ! 30 IN A SOUTHERN COUNTRY. THE STRAYED PAGAN. ING nie a song the northern way With our green north so far behind, Where love wakes love the northern way, And asks — to have, and seeks — to find. Ho! Southern skies grow blind and gray — And earth is green her northern way ! Now watch I no more, southern-wise. Sky sultry blue, moor sultry brown. Nor wage I warfare southern-wise, Nor rouse my hate to war hate down ; Earth's face and mine no longer frown In answer to the stern blue skies — That doom and burn men southern-wise. Give me a gray, an ashen sky To cherish green of hope's own hue ! A northman — 'neath yon ashen sky 1 tread forget-me-not and rue, Green now when gone are sun and blue. How mem'ry wilts and hope is dry If changing lands, I change my sky! ACTS OF FAITH. 31 ACTS OF FAITH. (Southern Autumn is Northern Spring). T T SE faith in Paradise these autumn dawns, Camp'd far to southward in the dewy cold — Beheving how these very whiles the gold And white and pink show on the English lawns, And with the Spring how northern days grow long, And English thrushes sing that unforgotten song. Some day, God willing, I would northward go. And quicken there my faith in Purgat'ry— What time in rich midsummer after-glow I tread that field's path where the daisies be So white, and sorrel red — I'd yet believe That here o'er fire-swept moors the gales of winter grieve. 32 IN A SOUTHERN COUNTRY. IN CONVERTENDO. T WATCH your beauty-curve, your pout of love Northward and westward, O quicksilver stream I And while I watch, I ask of Christ above To breathe life's breath upon my still-born dream, That as yon river in the south. He turn My banishment the way — the north-west way I yearn. GOD'S OWN COUNTRY. 33 GOD'S OWN COUNTRY. (In among the granite hills. A Native Reserve) . P RAISE God for these grey bastions of the south 1 Laud him for this wild weald so light esteemed Of norland pirates 1 Here is dread of drouth Rather than northmen. Here by crags redeem'd A lot is left you, children of the sun ! O you with faith for Now, small thrift for Then — So near Christ's Heart in your simplicity, Praise Him Who walled the land thus well, to be A goodly heritage for simple men ! — A land of maize-garths, hoes not ploughs may till, Of grassy glens — hill-cattle roam at will. Of flow'ry combes to bark-hiv'd swarmers free, Whose milk-and-honey rest yon warring rocks have won I 34 IN A SOUTHERN COUNTRY. RHODESIA'S CHARTER. (To Imperial England in the 25th year since its issue) . TITILL you not breathe upon our childish land, O Mother, that she Hve as ne'er before ? Breathe on each paltry farm, each petty store, Breathe on mean trusts for meagre uses plann'd ? No state are we — mere gold and rocks and sand — Annul our peddhng death-in-life of yorel Create our Commonweal, ere yet you pour Your favours on us with an affluent hand. Ordain a State, and with that State confer, Not with these few spoilt bully-boys who play As feudal lords at granting fiefs, whose sway Myriads of babes must own nor speak nor stir. Create our Commonweal, and grant to her Such charter as will not one babe betray ! ON THE UNION GOVERNMENT. 35 ON THE UNION GOVERNMENT. (Deportation without trial incident, 1914). 00 she is known at last, the southern friend Of northern freedom-lovers, now is clear How liberty to her own heart is dear. Brow-beat and tongue-tied watch her children wend Jail'd o'er free English seas, her menace hear — Who prates of shot and steel in panic-fear, And tyrant-proud prepares her tyrant's end ! Lo ! this is she, O England, known at last — Into whose den your tender mercies cast Such mute brown babes as round your knees would play And ask to nestle in your bosom vast, Her use of these her sons you know to-day — Those that she deems her dogs, how used are they? D 2 36 IN A SOUTHERN COUNTRY. RIZPAH IN S. AFRICA. (A colonist mother keening for her child. See the old- world story in 2 Samuel, xxi.J. T^HE thing that hath been, it shall be, There is no new thing, no not one ; Would God that I had died for thee, My son, my son ! Even as Aiah's child of old, I breathe to yon blue smiling sky My curse upon the Gibeonites Who made him die. Who hewed the logs, who drew at well, More patient than the beasts they drave. Whose patience asked those gifts of wrong His father gave — No one day's blood-writ crime to make The sun o'er Gibeon stand aghast. But breach on breach, and guile on guile These long years past. Therefore our boy so clean of sin Lies here before the Lord so low. And I, a stone beside a stone, Watch out my woe. THE CIRCEAN SOUTH. yjf THE CIRCEAN SOUTH. c i XT O change of clime will change the mind "- I put that childish proverb by, Seeing such metamorphoses Wrought by this alien sky. How doth the northern demagogue To southern nigger-driver grow ! How are dusk serfs and tenants ground By him tha.t was the landlord's foe ! Will many friends with Freedom stay In Fashion's teeth, in scorn of gold ? Many hers once are gone astray: I had been lost, and not restor'd — Thine Everlasting Arms, O Lord, Had they not kept fast hold ! 38 IN A SOUTHERN COUNTRY. BENEDICITE. /^UT of a grey sky comfort came, Out of a storm-show'r joy. What time the cock began his catch, The rain was roaring on the thatch, And Heav'n poured free, and Earth drank long. That hour I fashion'd me a song (Ere yet those big clouds broke array, And rainbow-glorious came the day. Before our folk came rev'lling out With bark of dogs, and dance and shout, — Hoe clash'd on hoe in choral din Deep-stricken fields ere night to win), — =<■" O all earth's brown things far and nigh, Your green a weary while put by, Smitten of suns and near to die — For silver largess magnify ! Praise, laud, and bless God's ashen sky — That found such silver simples fair Wounds of those gold darts to repair!" • I owe a suggestion to a hymn much later than the Three Children's. I i SECOND SUNRISE. 39 SECOND SUNRISE. T 17" HAT time with gold the great west glows Watch hue by hue the ebb of night, — Orange to amber, red to rose, Purple to gray, and so to night I What time so wan the shadows tire Watch flowing fast the tide of day, — Grey surge, flusht breakers, waves a-fire, Then on the blue the sun sails gay 1 Thus having long my youth resign'd Gleam after gleam, — and, woe by woe, Out-watch'd its after-dusk, I find The glory of a daybreak glow. 40 IN A SOUTHERN COUNTRY. DAWN AND DUSK. LJARKl Crow of cock and croon of dove I And lol what anguish takes our Night, Wan grows she with the growth of light And weakly shine her stars above. Then faint with travail-pangs, and old — She bears a day all youth and gold. Rose-brown yon hills at birth of Day, But purple when she droops to die, And in her travail fever-gay Flushes and fades, the birth being nigh Of her whose eyeshine manifold Recalls her mother's eyes of old. SUNDOWN. 41 SUNDOWN. O LOW drouthy miles I travelled on a day. Then at the last for me ere fall of night — With amber founts and coral lakes of Hght And strait full-brimming wells of argent stars, With shimmerings priceless, sheens beyond a price, And altar-glories free of altar-bars, — God's wayside Mercy bless'd me on my way. And skies how rich were glass'd in my sad eyes 1 42 IN A SOUTHERN COUNTRY. ON FOOT. XJO bridge for me with easy span, Rather a shallow brawling ford Where I may venture as a man Upon the errand of my Lord, And plunge and struggle, and be glad When once across, for slips I had. No bed for me so soft and high, I sleep this autumn night a-ground, My camp-fire's red all night so nigh. My star-spied sleep not over-sound. How oft I wake, and stare to see If yet the east has news for me 1 No altar set with lacquered brass, But granite grey with lichen dight Wears gallant orange for my Mass, — How blue my dome, how amber-bright! Bellman and bedesman mounts the Day An " Ite missa est " to say. At table of the dew-cold earth I break my fast, then lift my load, With lonely freedom for my mirth, With hope for spur, and faith for goad. No wheels or wings for me, but grace To go my Footsore Master's pace ! THE MERCIFUL KNIGHT. 43 THE MERCIFUL KNIGHT. (Once upon a Good Friday morning a knight who went to fight with another, knelt before a wayside Crucifix. So fnarvellously did God's Grace work in him that he forbore from his purpose and forgave his enemy. Then the Figure on the Crucifix bent Head and kissed him, in token that his works pleased God. . . . Such is the story that Burne-Jones tells us by a picture bright with daybreak in more senses thati one). Hark in our black year how they wake to sing Our melodists so dumb in sweet years gone ! God bless the hearts they find to sing with yet ! But neither heart nor will to me belong For piping war-songs. Pity and regret Sing in mine ears a wild fond duotone. A LL night about a Christian man Encamp two armies dread. And all night long his father's gods Possess him heart and head. On his dry lips his deadly wrong Drips black in venom's guise : All night his foeman's blood drains red Before his thirsty eyes. 44 IN A SOUTHERN COUNTRY. But at the dawn an onset stern His war-worn Angel leads, And wins his ear. A Mass-bell rings, — He sighs and wakes and heeds. Upon his brow a Sign he traced Half witting of its grace, — The aliens broke, his will was free, He rose his arms to brace. But as in clanking glancing steel He to the Mass would ride. An earth-old god with gauntlet's clutch Seized grimly on his pride. From Heav'n's blue keep did watchers look Upon his bitter need, — The while on that still morn he rode Across the green March mead. Saint Dorothy, his patroness, Trained roses pale for sign Athwart the fence. He heeded not — Drunk with the red god's wine. Mary, that cold Good Friday morn, Set Mary-golds in state To crown the mead. He heeded not — Drunk with the swart god's hate. i THE MERCIFUL KKIGPIT. 45 The Holy Ghost shed summer dews Most pitiful and bright That dry March morn. He heeded not — Parched as a black-frost night. He sped to pass the church. A Rood Rose stark its porch before. There blessed use and urgent Saints Willed that he must adore. From the curst wood looked Jesu Christ Who did for murderers pray, And marshalled to a gallant strife His Wounds in meek array. " Never was work'd such heartless wrong As mine," that bedesman said : All Five they gave him back the lie — Five Mouths lipp'd wide and red. Now fann'd by lion's lusty breath His pride in flame would rise : Now would the Lamb's dead Face so wan Make dim and wet his eyes. An old man and a new man there Wrestled aneath the Rood. With chafing hand on chafing steed — Hard by his foeman stood. 46 IN A SOUTHERN COUNTRY. At last he came. His cheek he turn'd To claim a coward's blow : Then back, and knelt before his Friend, And sham'd to tears his foe. Lol O'er his tingling cheek a Head In love and ruth was bent : Fresh from the Kiss of God, he rode Homeward, at heart content. THE MINOR POET. 47 THE MINOR POET. One sultry southern night a month ere yet The latter rains were here, he heard a bell Ringing to north, and, in his dream, he set His feet that dreamer's way they knew so well. Lit by a dream as by a torch's flame Across a quadrangle of dreams he came. T ONG he pac'd the lime-walk Till the cock-crow time, Then, his windows open To the Grove, he slept. Came the Grove's own satyr With three leaves of lime : Lightly from a grass-plot To the ledge it leapt, — There with goat-thigh silver'd In the night-shine stood Watch'd his dream, and bent it Bent but would not break. As it were a west wind From a yellowing wood Strew'd his brow with lime leaves, And a whisper spake — " Pay the price, and win them. 48 IN A SOUTHERN COUNTRY. All my lime leaves three, Win the three-fold Vision — First of yesterday, Next of dawn about you, Last of day to be — This the price I ask you — Cast your world away."" In his dream he hearkens, And his eyes must glow, And his heart be dancing. But his lips make moan •• Nay, I will not suffer All my world to go." From his brow the light breath Hath one lime-leaf blown. " Pay for twain," it murmurs, "That I ask'd for all." BHnd he nods. At waking Lo 1 the livelong cost ! Never world nor lime-leaf May his lips recall, His a mulcted Vision, His a world well lost. ON KEATS' NILE SONNET. 49 ON KEATS' NILE SONNET. nPHE haunters of that old Athenian wood — The dancers on those sands Armorican — King Oberon and all his faery brood Sought out in London streets an Englishman. Not where in reedy mazes Ladon ran, Nor by the marge of some Thessalian flood, But dreaming southward over Thames he stood, And heard on Hampstead Heath the pipes of Pan. Far flocks of splendours how they homed to him — Our singing shepherd, ere his day must close. Ere song must falter, folding-time grow dim I Who had believed it, how from grass-plots trim Gay with laburnum-gleams, and lilac-glows, — White Ruwenzori shone, and Nile arose? E 50 IN A SOUTHERN COUNTRY. CHATUKUTA'S CLIFF. (1915). T T ERE on this altar of a mount I cry Farewell to folk and land, ere yet I go, — Crag upon crag, and high hill over low Are in mine eyesweep, and a stream goes by Lonely and unregarded, e'en as I Passing upon a way none craves to know. Here, in a cloudless early-winter glow, Wide land, you smile in answer to a sigh I Smile on with that wide heart-free smile of yours, Land with the smile that answered when I sighed. Land of the long slow years and sunny hours ! Folk, good betide you, whatsoe'er betide Him who must leave you ! Folk with pomp and pow'rs So huge about you of a land so wide 1 ON THE CHANGE OF A MISSION'S NAME 51 ON THE CHANGE OF A MISSION'S NAME. (" Mashonaland" to " Southeyn Rhodesia," 1915). 00 it must go, that flag of youth's delight. The yet bright colours, hang them up on high; Forbid their going fieldward. None must fight These days beneath them. Yet until we die — Let us who fought beneath them, not forget ! "Whom the gods love die young." Ungrudg'd has Death Crown'd a dear name. For we are young no more. Maybe a new name fits a new time's breath. So give a lov'd name in its green prime o'er — Lest it grow old, and we its youth forget ! Ere the old era go, let go the name : Haply your new name heralds ampler things. Let die our name ere die our camp-fire's flame, Ere Venture's stars be fall'n, and dipt her wings — Bid the name die, but bid us not forget ! 52 IN A SOUTHERN COUNTRY. MASHONALAND. (Written on Service in E. Africa, Nov., 1915). T ET me sing of her who am far from her In dusk of war recall her sunbnrnt peace ! I This month do red seeds in her gardens stir ? ! Do her fords flush? Her flow'rs and grass up- B stand For honey's foison and for milk's increase ? | Blew her north-wind last month or was he coy (Her first rains' harbinger?) Wears she these days her green for summer's joy? What if she does not. Yet she comes to me In dreams most wistfully when parch'd and tann'd (In dreams to me that knew her thus so long). Am I not all for her though brown she be ? She is as Syon to my exile song In yonder widths of this wide lake I see Euphrates' waves, in yonder lake-shore green A Babylonish garment's gaudy sheen. j When brown, when parch'd, then most my Syon she ! ON ACTIVE SERVICE. 53 ON ACTIVE SERVICE. (In East Africa, 1915.) \^7E have outfaced the sun, the storm has passed us by, The road has worn our feet, but here at last we lie. The quiet evening comes. For wages of content, Nay, gifts, not wages, praise Him Who ungrudging pays More rest and fuller joy for ev'ry mile we went I The war is left behind, haply it waits before. But over grass-eaves here broods the lost peace of yore. How doth our honest Night, our eager Day, regard, — Granting his heart's desire Of food and pipe and fire. With a few dreams at watch, and many stars at ward I 54 IN A SOUTHERN COUNTRY. ON GOING TO THE WAR AGAIN. (T916). (" They also serve who only stand and wait." ) A/TEN bade me God-speed. Ah! if men but knew As God, no God-speed might my going win, I to salve souls — whose sloven hands pour in Such fly-stale oil, such fev'rish wine drops few ! Cry out the truth to them that hold me true! Cry, weak-voic'd Conscience I have starv'd so thin I— " Honour him not ! To leave his watch was sin» These hold their watch. To them is honour due." Bishop, my wind-worn Captain with no will To leave your bridge now 1 Priests as watchmen set True to your watch-tow'rs I Sisters left to till Deserts your faith and love with roses fill ! And you, brown flock that lov'd me, patient yet I Yours is the honour, let me not forget ! UNDER A SOUTHERN CROSS. A PSALM OF A TABERNACLE. 57 A PSALM OF A TABERNACLE. ("Full little thought they theti That the mighty Pan Was kindly come to live with them below.") — Milton. \70NDER in Temple of Pan Shrine for His Dwelling we plan — Cell of a fair-carven Ark Cut from a fresh forest trunk. Guests, that have eaten and drunk His morning Bounty, are gone. Here He abideth alone, Here all the night may you mark Lamp-light — a glow-worm of gold — TelHng that here there is One Slumber Who knows not, nor sleep, Here in the heart of the Fold, Here in the care of His sheep. Pan of the lush gardens green. Pan of the brown moorlands lean, Pan of the bulls black and red And the does in the thickets that breed. Pan of the dry river's bed. And the fuU-bosom'd clouds from the north — 53 UNDER A SOUTHERN CROSS. ; Pan that feedeth the folk, Pan of the dogs that they feed — Here all a night will watch Pan, Watch till the stars grow wan. Nor with the sun go forth. Pan, that in all things fair In brown earth or blue air Keepeth house, maketh home — To us hath lent in trust Such Love as stooped to dust. And stooping so, assumed Dust into glorious God, — ' God Who is here at home Staff of His Sheep and Rod Of iron to smite their Foe — God nowise loth to come, God all wise loth to go. I Therefore, O folk, flock here All morns thro' all the year — | Folk with the smell o' the field v That Pan hath bless'd to yield, !;* Folk in goat-leathers clad - Whose goats in care hath had — i Pan, Pan, and who as He ? | Come in your day-dawn glee A PSALM OF A TABERNACLE. 59 Beneath the great Rood-Tree Before the Tree-Trunk Cell, The hush-lipt birth-chant swell Of Pan's Nativity I Then, when afield ye wend To fields that Pan hath blest With winds of north and west. Whose show'rs the sunburns mend- Bethink ye how He stays Nor e'er His watch betrays Thro' burthen-heats of days, — The God within the Tree Whose leaves men's healing be. Whose Fruit hell's thirst allays. Ye, when afloor men sleep — The rush-mat laid beneath, The hut as still as death Save for the snuffling sheep And sleepers' hard-drawn breath, — Think, when the owls screech clear, How in the church so near He of the lamp-star's light Watcheth a flock by night As they of Bethlehem, How Horeb-glen's '* I AM," 6o UNDER A SOUTHERN CROSS. The pillar'd Flame of Shem, Kindles for sons of Ham A Fire, and camps with them. Watch thou the Shrine before — The Pomp that Cell hath sealed At whiles to men revealed Shall issue from its core I Watch — that thou may'st adore 1 White as the morn-frost hoar, White as a sea-wash'd star. Not white as white men are Whom pride stains piteously. But fire-white, maiden-clean — Manna by Daybreak seen — The Pomp thine eyes will see! Rarely that Pomp is shown. Cloud of a tree-trunk brown Shall hide it other-whiles — That Sun of many smiles. Sun of the Happy Isles. Cell of a narrow girth Brown as those limbs of thine, Brown as the homely earth, Shall house that Shepherd Good, Lamb of the Five-Stain'd Rood, Goat of the Curse Divine, God of the Manger's Birth. LADY OF THE FLIGHT INTO AFRICA. 6i TO OUR LADY OF THE FLIGHT INTO AFRICA. Ayr OTHER of Him Whose Name I bear And therefore mine — a Mother dear, That all our wild land's way did'st come With such a heart as made it home ! How fair a lot this land forlorn Look'd to those eyes that knew no scorn ; Thine was its honey of content Without its stings of banishment ! Not so profane these lips of mine As to beseech from heart of thine Compassion's weak complicity In this my home-sick perfidy (That seeks me wings to ily north-west, To seek me home, to seek me rest). In these my plots of then and now To drop the handles of my plow. Grant, Lady, that my prayer may move Thine heart to share with me its love — Love that at windows of thine eyes Deemed Africa a Paradise ; I 62 UNDER A SOUTHERN CROSS. O share with me thy joy of old Not in her mines but morns of gold, Not in her steel of savage wars But in her hosts and sheen of stars. Yet soon — if God shall not gainsay The wending of my homeward way — Share with me that home-coming glee Wherewith o'er hills of Galilee Thou cam'st to Galilee once more : If God so please, God's Mother, pray That I may come again one day Hence, and to home, as thou of yore 1 I TO A MISSION. ■ 63 TO A MISSION. (Named after the Five Wounds). T^HE rod of iron is not for thee — Not here, not now when last is first. Be thine such iron as slak'd its thirst At Five rich Springs ; a sixth Spring be ! O may that red iron entering in Rock of thy soil, a deep well bore 1 O wear onefold for shame of sin What He Fivefold for pity wore. Hard by those grass-thatch'd thorpes of thine Yon fenc'd trees yet may find a place — Where feasts are spread for Shades to dine ; And hark ! With feint of ghostly chase By choral throats and drumming hands Strange Wraiths are hunted and halloo'd — Here on thy Briar-bound King's crown-lands, Within few stone-casts of a Rood. So let it be, go, fold thine hands Not idly, but in prayer's desire For Heav'n's rain on yon parching lands, Not for its dread descending fire, For sun and rain to bless the mould Of just and unjust side by side. In utmost patience fold thy hands — So best to stanch that Fivefold Tide ! 64 UNDER A SOUTHERN CROSS. VIS INERTIA. li A DD to our loads, O Lord, while yet we live," So ask his chosen ones, who stir and strive Gladly, who school themselves in sunlight clear Of that one Face inestimably dear, And water all their work so dewy-bright With sane sweet pray'r, not miss'd one morn or night. ^ But I — so dry and dead, so prone to fire With sudden scathes of soon repented ire, Ask no more load. E'en loaded so, I fret. Swerving from God, I sigh " Not yet, not yet — Not while I live strait-spac'd and scant of time, Self-banish'd to my unsunn'd dewless clime!" O Christ, for one night with my heart to pray I LOVE LIES A-BLEEDING. 65 LOVE LIES A-BLEEDING. T N name of Him they win — but what and how ? In more than name His load of loss I bear : Thrice under it He fell, and I fall now ; Five Sores He took, wearing this yoke I wear. Now the yoke galls, but it was meant to gall — That easy yoke of thriftless love He plann'd ; Now the load frets, love's light load laid on all True to Heav'n's trust in this Heav'n-hating land. Let chariots race in Name of Christ above, Let cars nam'd His, drive hard by night and day : Lumber on, pack-beast slow, whose load is love I Toil on, lame ox, yoke-gall'd, love's cumbrous way 1 66 UNDER A SOUTHERN CROSS. THE IMITATION, r\ WERE I but a picaroon That knew not fear nor ruth nor shame, How would I stain these venturous seas. And light these twilight coasts in flame 1 had I Torquemada's mind. And pow'r of Stake not love of Rood, How in this land these thirteen years Had aught my sovran will withstood ? But ragged, footsore, lean and old, School'd to endure not use Thy Rod, Wishful to fail as Christ hath fail'd— 1 am as Thou hast made me, God ! AGNUS DEI. 67 AGNUS DEI. 00 mute — I raise Him from the rock, So white — against yon orient flame, A white Lamb for a swarthy flock, A Glory to assoil a Shame. O folk, as sheep to slaughter led In sullen mood with hopeless eyes, Rehearse Five blisses bloody-red In Fivefold bliss of Sacrifice ! Across yon moor the crags beside Let scorners drive their hooting ways ; How will they call for crags to hide From the meek wrath of Him I raise ! O folk, as lambs to shearer borne. Folk stony-dumb before your wrong, Learn here the Love that outlaughs Scorn, The bitter-sweet of patience long ! To this rock set I one by one Seals white and red that God is true, Ere yet hush-footed come His sun And set a flaming seal thereto. F 2 68 UNDER A SOUTHERN CROSS. THE HEAVENLY VISION. "^T 7E were camped on the sand By a fire so good to see Under a tree so grand, And the stars were over the tree. That night aside the fire Learn'd I my road to go — In the joy of a God's Desire, In the ruth of a Rood of woe. A fire on a rock in the sand Faith Ut at dawn for me — Under a Tree so grand. With a Star yet over that Tree, SINAI IN THE SOUTH. 69 SINAI IN THE SOUTH. (On a Church deemed ufi-Christian) . i i "I\ /T Y service is His Service " — so she said, Yet I observed her — how with stripes she paid Transgressors, teaching them her fear indeed, But not the pity of His Wounds that bleed, I watched her hands grasp tithes of mint and rue, Blotting the charter of His Lover's due. Her stark robe broider'd with the codes of yore Obscured that breastplate jewel of His Love (If yet a gem so light-esteem'd she wore— How could I tell ? So thick the folds above). As to His friend, she stoop'd her lips to me, But I, in sudden thrill of loyalty Unto the Bridegroom, Whose she claim'd to be, Denied that affluent Bride my poor-man's kiss, — And, lifting up my gaze to Heav'n on high, I saw how all the while a Bride went by Greedless and guileless, cloth'd with splendid sun. And heard St. Paul precent in nuptial glee — *' Jerusalem above is free, is free ! " 70 UNDER A SOUTHERN CROSS. I watched a choir with stars for torches run To bring that Bride to see her Bridegroom's Face, And harked the burthen of their melody — " This Mother of us all is free, is free ! " Therefore I wrought a sudden work of grace — In love to Him, Who all our knots untied. Tying love's blood-stain'd knot that hour He died, — I bade Good-Night for ever and a day To His mock-bride, and turned the sunrise way — Way of His true Bride's tryst, for me a lonely way. UNCHURCHED. 71 UNCHURCHED. ^HE Spirit and the Bride said " Come " With ear so dull he vaguely heard. To his dim sight a Star appear'd — That Morning-Star by which he steer'd Past winds and waves for port and home. These be the words his grave to mark Should any care to climb so far, — " Haply he chose an ill-rigg'd bark, Yet steer'd he by a faithful Star." 72 UNDER A SOUTHERN CROSS. CANDLEMAS. DISCIPULUS. r^ID not the glow of olden years outvie — Show'd not the glow'r of menac'd doom so nigh- Watching with candle at thy blazing shrine, Lady of Light, how glad of heart were 1 1 Ah mel On Feasts of Light in long-lost years Gripping my grass-torch I fared forth with tears, Yet came again with joy, my sheaves with me, Sheaves reap'd a-field, brave sheaves of routed fears. DOMINA. I, I indict this Candlemas of thine. How is thy first love left, O linkman mine ! Repent ! Go, set thy candle in its place. Light thy field-torch, and flee my blazing shrine I Is not the outer dark thy charge — and mine? A MISSION EMBER HYMN. 73 A MISSION EMBER HYMN. (" But many that are first shall bt last ; and the last shall be first."— S. Matt, xix., 30). r^ O, drive thy chariot on its course, Gather the reins within thy hand, And so be all thy journey plann'd That at its end be no remorse. Let others race, but race not thou, Thine old whip left, no other seek ; Yet learn their own wild tongue to speak To thy dusk team (Christ teach thee how !) Cherish thou them, nor cry, nor strive. And for a twofold guerdon pray — Both to the last lap's end to stay. And none of all to over-drive 1 ^' Lose time," saith Christ, " keep time with Me, And lift my wounded by the way — Mindful of time I lost that day I lighted down to seek for thee ! " 74 UNDER A SOUTHERN CROSS. Lag last, if so thou quench thy thirst And slake thy team's at Heav'nly Springs : Him from whose lash his team found wings Let men (not God) acclaim him first ! Drive, as Christ rode His ass so slow, Lag on in love, and think no shame : Fool-glorying in yon Cross' blame, Thine eyes may flash, thy heart may glow. Be God the goal of course of thine ! Should all a world miscrown thee "last": Down at God's Feet their mock-crown cast! Last ! Art thou last to Eyes Divine ? AT THE RIVER'S DRIFT. 75 AT THE RIVER'S DRIFT. XT O vision save the common sight of men, No music save the hoarse frogs' grateful song, Small hope for Now, and huge remorse for Then, — I doubt my very road if right or wrong. With a wild pomp of rain-clouds hard at hand Massing their ranks to swell the swollen ford, With home behind, the waste before, I stand, A unit in the Army of my Lord. 76 UNDER A SOUTHERN CROSS. FIRE UPON EARTH. Tl WORLD'S Light, Who leadest me, how glad I go Led by Thy Mother as a moon of snow. Or by some starry saint of Thine that's foe To night, or by Thy Dayspring's orb6d glow Of peace to all and each, if peace may be ! Then wherefore should I turn my face from Thee That wouldest lead with lightning flashes Thine — Scathing new stains of traffick at Thy Shrine, Warring with no discharge a War Divine ? For days and days Thy sun-lit roads were mine, To-night storm-lurid shows Thy path for me ! i THE PLAGUE OF MY OWN HEART. 77 THE PLAGUE OF MY OWN HEART. f~^ RANTED — great space, small time, huge weariness, And doubt by unknown bleating cries begot! Yet such and such sheep being lent to thee — These many folding-times why come they not ? All thirteen years such trust had not been thine Had men but known thee, known thy drouthy ease — Draining those mercies dry that might have been. A flock thou hast. But what of these — and these ? Hark o'er the dun moor thro' the falling night What moan of lambs unmother'd, lost, and dead I Watch thro' yon unfill'd fold's bars how forlorn, — Dark fleecy shades of sheep unshepherded ! 78 UNDER A SOUTHERN CROSS. THE LAST TIMES. (A South African Church Carol). T O in Crib a mock-Christ set — Go ye out to see! Christmas night is black as jet, Starless — Epiphany. Chorus. Star-lorn Epiphany 1 Frankincense and myrrh and gold Glut his tyranny: Shepherds serve him stern and cold. Ah 1 Sheep, that this should be 1 Chorus. Poor sheep ! That this should be ! True Christ, by Thy bed of hay Lout I on the sod : I, O Love, this lonely day Hate the man-made God ! Chorus. Hate we the man-made God ! Mary's Christ, a quest I crave — Grant a quest to me — But to seek that god such grave As Herod sought for Thee ! Chorus. Dig we him so deep a grave As Herod dug for Thee I A CAROL. 79 A CAROL. (Of the Flight into Aftica). ISRAEL from Egypt went. What glee Was in that going ! O to flee African bondage of my own And once again in England be ! Israel to Egypt came again In simple trust — a dusty Train — Mother and Babe and Ass and Guide — Trusting our land and not in vain. Putting old Israel's mind aside — With Christ for Africa I stride. She friended Him in friendlessness — She the dusk-fac'd, the downcast ey'd! Now with His Child's Hand in my hand I love her as no other land Her little thought for meat or dress, Her much for love — We understand. 8o UNDER A SOUTHERN CROSS. BETHLEHEM'S FAITH. A rOVGE-MATE, War-comrade, think no scorn of one Into whose soul as yours the iron has gone, Our Christ in Africa must suffer yet, — Five Points in Five reopen'd Gashes set ! i TO OUR PROTO-MARTYR. 8r TO OUR PROTO-MARTYR. (The Veil. Gonculoda Silveira, martyyed in S.E. Africa, A.D. 1561). T STEAM at ease upon the self-same sea You sailed and found so rude, O pray for me t Day-and-night teller of that rosary yours, Praying more pray'rs than we smoke pipes of ours. My spokesman to your Lord and Lady be I The weather's clear now. Foul it was all night, Mine's a gross vessel, yours was frail and fine. But was your weather so much worse than mine Off Inhambane or Cuama's bight ? Think, tho' my war Pve play'd at, 'tis the same You warr'd with heart of rock and eyes of flame, Your heart was rock, yet from the rock there flow'd Deep-slaking springs. Your eyes like veld-fires glow'd, As they would glass Saint Michael's own in fight, Yet how they haz'd and brimm'd and strain'd afar Toward that Peace whose Vision bounds our War. 82 UNDER A SOUTHERN CROSS. SAINT PAUL. O PELL out the blazon on his shield, His armour's bearings read again — Knight of the Cross, the Nails, the Lance, Priest of Theophanies of pain. Yon quart'rings rich are his by right — Gules-glorious with his blood that shone,— Rome's sword, and Sion's scourge athirst, Philippi's rods, and Lystra's stone. My boyhood's dream of mariners Over uncharted seas that steered — What was it to that voyage of his When neither sun nor stars appeared ? He, in the basket o'er the wall. Swung sheer and dizzy thro' the night; Sped by the Bridegroom to the Bride — He fell how lief, he rose how hght I He knew the pricks of hunger's goad. He knew his rav'ning foes how nigh — That asked his life before their meat, — Yet could his faith his fate defy. ST. PAUL. 83 He fought with beasts at Ephesus — The selfsame breed that bayed and roared When on the castle stairs he cried The challenge of the Gentiles' Lord. My manhood's toil in Africa Mated with his is childhood's play, — Who, teaching Troas all a night, For Assos strode with earliest day. To him — the Master of my trade — By this my fire I bare my head — Him of the camp-fire on the beach Beneath Troy's barrows of the dead. He sail'd in dreams an Argonaut — A Seamless Coat his Fleece of Gold, — A war-worn voyager, he free'd Sheep fast within a giant's fold. He dream'd of how the Red- Rood Tree Bare Fruits of Life on Europe's shore : To him so dreaming — Hellas' cry Came on the breeze the breakers o'er. He saw the Vision of the Bride Fairer than Helen cross the sea, — So westward with the Dawn he sailed On Quest of Grace for mine and me. G 3 84 UNDER A SOUTHERN CROSS. Paul, as I tread my homesick road 1 heed that knightly word of thine-- " Does any burn ? With him I burn." What of this scald and scathe of mine ? In shame of heart that burns for home — Shame to my flesh a fiery thorn — I pray John Mark to pray for me — I with the scath'd heart Paul would scorn. A TWO-LAND GLEE.' •' 85 A TWO-LAND GLEE. (South Africa's Summer is England's Winter, and vice versa J . North and ■{ South. /A WAKE, O North Wind, come, thou vSouth, With Life- Breath of the Lover's Mouth: Summer and winter gardens rove. And ask her spices from His Love I Easter. [With violet prints and wings of song i My feet of faithful Spring go by : [My cornfields chant Death's solace-song — ^'^ '" 1 " Except it die ! " " Except it die ! " Whitsun. -_ ^, ( Kiss, sun, my summer buds yet blind, North. ] -^ -^ ' i My chestnuts' cluster-lamps illume : I Spare, ere your fiery tongues consume (All my rathe moors, O winter wind I 86 UNDEFv A SOUTHERN CROSS Christmas. North. ( White are my snows about His Byre — ( Heav'n's gift to flow'rless earth so freer ( My lilies, light your conches' fire, South. , ( His Heav'nly Limbs so cold they be I North and South. Be time by summers twin defied, Green winters and white winters all ! In orb of mutual love provide ,God with His timeless festival ! ■! fi ENVOI. 87 ENVOI. "XT OW, when the ship at last heads home After the roar and flame of strife — We sound the deeps of peace and Hfe : Know you how curst the shallows were, The troubled shallows whence we come — Know you, or dream you we were there ? BY THE SAME AUTHOR. ''The little books that Mr. Arthur Shearly Cripps writes about South Africa are certainly among the best literary productions from that country." — The Manches- ter Guardian. Lyra Evangel istica. Missionary Verses in Mash- onaland. Third edition, fcap. 8vo, cloth, 2S. 6d. net. "A NEIV POET." " In Mr. Arthur Cripps we have a poet of a wild land who will not consent for one moment to forget the classic tradition. He has the keenest and freshest powers of observation, he can catch a strange atmosphere, and be sensible to all the subtleties of virgin soil. But at heart he is a classic. . . . Mashonaland is to him authentic Arcady, and with a poet's eye he can read in its savagerv the old songs of Hellas. . . . But he is best, perhaps, in his short pieces, cut like a jewel, for which the true model is the epigrams of the Greek Anthology."— r/if Spectator. Pilgrimage of Grace. Verses on a Mission. Fcap. 8vo, cloth, 2S. 6d. net. "The work of a real poet. . . . Here are vivid landscapes of Mashonaland, little etchings of native life, and the unconquer- able yearning, despite the joy of his mission work, which makes the writer long for the green of an English spring, the beauty and companionship of Oxford."— J/ic Church Times. Faerylands Forlorn. African Tales. Fcap. 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. net. "This book is not one to be borrowed from the library, but to be set on the shelf and re-read yearly." — The Church Times. The Brooding Earth. — A Story of Mashonaland. Crown 8vo, coloured picture boards, is. net. "Mr. Cripps' stories of the Mashonaland are so well-known to our readers, and so highly appreciated by them, that this new volume needs only to be mentioned to ensure a warm welcome." — The Cotnmonwealth. Bay Tree Country. A Story of Mashonaland. Crown 8v'0, coloured picture boards, is. net. "This is yet another of Mr. Cripps' beautiful sketches of life in Rhodesia. It is a story that gives one furiously to think." — The Literary World. ©yforD B. H. BLACKWELL, BROAD STREET. YB 46418 U.C.BERKELEY LIBRARIES CDM3t,t,aS75 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY