I THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA IN MEMORY OF ^' V.r. & Mrs, Sydney B. Mitchell fxcr^^J^v..-^ v. ^V>.cka 'dA . Ft! Departmental Ditties Ballads AND Barrack Room Ballads By Rudyard Kipling Author of "The Day's Work," "The Seven Seas," "The Jungle Books," etc. TORONTO GEORGE N. MORANG & COMPANY, Limited New York DOUBLEDAY & McCLURE CO. 1899 GIF! Oy CONTENTS DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES PAGE General Summary ii Army Headquarters 13 Study of an Elevation, in Indian Ink .... 16 Delilah 18 A Legend of the Foreign Office 22 The Story of Uriah 25 The Post that fitted 27 A Code of Morals 30 Public Waste 34 What happened 37 The Man who could write ...... 40 Pink Dominoes ........ 43 Municipal 46 The Last Department . 49 OTHER VERSES My Rival 53 To the Unknown Goddess 56 The Rupaiyat of Omar Kal'vin 58 Pagett, M. P 61 La Nuit Blanche ........ 64 The Lovers' Litany 68 6 971 6 CONTENTS PAGB A Ballad of Burial 70 The Overland Mail 73 Divided Destinies 75 The Masque of Plenty 78 The Mare's Nest 84 The Ballad of Fisher's Boarding-house .... 87 Possibilities 92 Arithmetic on the Frontier ...... 94 The Song of the Women 96 The Betrothed 99 A Ballade of Jakko Hill 104 The Plea of the Simla Dancers 106 " As the Bell clinks " 109 Christmas in India . . 1 13 The Grave of the Hundred Head 116 An Old Song 121 Certain Maxims of Hafiz 125 The Moon of Other Days 131 The Fall of Jock Gillespie 133 What the People said 136 The Undertaker's Horse 139 One Viceroy resigns 142 The Galley-slave 151 A Tale of Two Cities 156 In Spring Time 160 Giffen's Debt 162 Two Months. In June .165 Two Months. In September 166 L'Envoi 167 PRELUDE / have eaten your bread and salt, I have drunk your water and wine; TJie deaths ye died I have watched beside^ And the lives that ye led were mine. Was there aught that I did not share In vigil or toil or ease, — One joy or woe that I did ?iot know, Dear hearts across the seas? I have written the tale of our life For a sheltered people V tnirth, In jesting guise — but ye are wise, * And ye know what the jest is worth. DEPARTMENTAL 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, Even in those early days. Won a simple Viceroy's praise Through the toil of other men. 11 12 GENERAL SUMMARY Ere they hewed the Sphinx's visage Favouritism 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 Civilian? 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 HEAD-QUARTERS Old is the song that I sing — Old as my unpaid bills — Old as the chicken that kitmiitgars bring Men at dak-bungalows — old as the Hills. Ahasuerus Jenkins of the " Operatic Own," Was dowered with a tenor voice of j-zz/^r-Santley 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 leave 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. He took two months at Simla when the year was at the spring. And underneath the deodars eternally did sing. 13 14 ARMY HEAD-QUARTERS He warbled like a bul-bul, but particularly at Cornelia Agrippina, who was musical and fat. She controlled a humble husband, who, in turn, con- trolled 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 Treas- ury. Cornelia used to sing to 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. 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. ARMY HEAD-QUARTERS 15 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 ! STUDY OF AN ELEVATION, IN INDIAN INK This ditty is a strijig 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 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. Potiphar Gubbins, C. E., Is dear to the Powers that Be ; 16 STUDY OF AN ELEVATION, IN INDIAN INK 17 For They Iww 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 where Potiphar is Hadst thou been mated to Me ? DELILAH We have another Viceroy now, those days are dead a7id 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. She patronized extensively a man, Ulysses Gunne, Whose mode of earning money was a low and shame- ful one. 18 DELILAH 19 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 compHment un- stinted ; 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. 'Twas almost worth the keeping [only seven people knew it], So Gunne rose up to seek the truth and patiently ensue it. It was a Viceroy's Secret, but — perhaps the wine was red — Perhaps an Aged Councillor had lost his aged head — 20 DELILAH Perhaps Delilah's eyes were bright — Delilah's whis- pers 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-vv'altzing, and Delilah helped him dance — Ulysses let the waltzes go, and waited for his chance. The summer sun was setting, and the summer air was still, The couple went a-walking in the shade of Summer 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 Councillor was shaking in his shoes ; DELILAH 21 Next month, I met Delilah, and she did not show the least Hesitation in asserting that Ulysses was a '' beast." We have another Viceroy now, those days are dead and done — Of Delilah Aberyswith and most mean Ulysses Gunne ! A LEGEND OF THE FOREIGN OFFICE This is the reason why Rustum Beg, Rajah of Kolazai, Drinketh the ^' sif?ipki?i^^ and brandy peg, Maketh the 7noney to fly, Vexeth a Gove?'nment, tender and kitid, 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 Gaol and Hospital — nearly built a City drain — Till his faithful subjects all thought their ruler was insane. Strange departures made he then — yea, Departments stranger still, Half a dozen Englishmen helped the Rajah with a will, Talked of noble aims and high, hinted of a fliture fine For the State of Kolazai, on a strictly Western line. 22 A LEGEND OF THE FOREIGN OFFICE 23 Rajah Rustum held his peace ; lowered octroi dues one half; Organized a State PoHce ; 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 achieve- ment crown. Then the Birthday honours came. Sad to state and sad to see, Stood against the Rajah's name nothing more than C. I. E. I Things were lively for a week in the State of Kolazai, Even now the people speak of that time regretfully ; How he disendowed the Gaol — stopped at once the City drain ; Turned to beauty fair and frail — got his senses back again; 24 A LEGEND OF THE FOREIGN OFFICE Doubled 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 honours manifold ; Clad himself in Eastern garb — squeezed his people as of old. Happy, happy Kolazai ! Never more will Rustum Beg Play to catch the Viceroy's eye. He prefers the "simpkin" peg. THE STORY OF URIAH "Now there were two men t7i 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, 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 : Attempting two men's duty In that very healthy post ; 25 26 THE STORY OF URIAH 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 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. Certainly an impecunious Subaltern was not a catch, But the Boffkins knew that Minnie mightn't make another match. 27 28 THE POST THAT FITTED 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 Bleary put it : — " Just the thing for me and Carrie." Did he, therefore, jilt Miss Boffkin — impulse of a baser mind? No ! He started epileptic fits of an appalhng kind. [Of his modus operandi only this much I could gather : — "Pears' shaving sticks will give you little taste and lots of lather."] Frequently in pubHc places his affliction used to smite Sleary with distressing vigour — always in the Boff kins' sight. Ere a week was over Minnie weepingly returned his ring. Told him his " unhappy weakness " stopped all thought of marrying. THE POST THAT FITTED 29 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." Year by year, in pious patience, vengeful Mrs. Boffkin sits Waiting for the Sleary babies to develop Sleary's fits. A CODE OF MORALS Lest you should think this story true I merely metition I Evolved it lately. ' Tis a 7?iost Un77iitigated misstatement. Now Jones had left his new-wed bride to keep his house in order, And hied away to the Hurrum Hills above the Afgrian 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. At dawn, across the Hurrum Hills, he flashed her counsel wise — At e'en, the dying sunset bore her husband's homilies. 30 A CODE OF MORALS '-'A 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 my ditty hangs) That snowy-haired Lothario, Lieutenant-General Bangs. 'Twas General Bangs, with Aide and Staff, that tit- tupped on the way, When they beheld a heliograph tempestuously at play. They thought of Border risings, and of stations sacked and burnt — So stopped to take the message down — and this is what they learnt : — " 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 darhng popsy-wop ! ' "Spirit of great Lord Wolseley, w/io is on that mountain top ? " 32 A CODE OF MORALS The artless Aide-de-camp was mute ; the gilded Staff were still, As, dumb with pent-up mirth, they booked that mes- sage from the hill ; For clear as summer-lightning flare, the husband'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.] 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 ! " A CODE OF MORALS 33 All honour unto Bangs, for ne'er did Jones thereafter know By word or act official who read off that helio. ; But the tale is on the Frontier, and from Michni to Mool/an They know the worthy General as " that most immoral man." PUBLIC WASTE Walpole talks of '^ a 7?ian 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 subjects wherein he must pass ; Because in all matters that deal not with Railways his knowledge is great. Now Exeter Battleby Tring had laboured from boy- hood to eld On the Lines of the East and the West, likewise of the North and South; 34 PUBLIC WASTE 85 Many lines had he built and surveyed — important 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 men who had passed through the " College." Wherefore the Little Tin Gods harried their httle tin souls, Seeing he came not from Chatham, jingled no spurs at his heels, Knowing that, nevertheless, was he first on the Gov- ernment rolls For the billet of " Railway Instructor to Little Tin Gods on Wheels." ^ Letters not seldom they wrote him, "having the honour to state," 36 PUBLIC WASTE It would be better for all men if he were laid on th(L shelf: Much would accrue to his bank-book an he con- sented to wait Until the Little Tin Gods built him a berth for him- self. " 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 High- nesses thrive ! ) Silence his mouth with rupees, keeping their Circle intact ; Appointing a Colonel from Chatham who managed the Bhamo State Line, (The which was one mile and one furlong — a guaran- teed twenty-inch gauge) So Exeter Battleby Tring consented his claims to resign, And died, on four thousand a month, in the ninetieth year of his age 1 WHAT HAPPENED HuRREE Chunder Mookerjee, pride of Bow Bazar, Owner of a native press, " Barrishter-at-Lar," Waited on the Government with a claim to wear Sabres 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 tubes of Lancaster, Ballard, Dean, and Bland, 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 please, Also gave permission to horrid men like these — Yar Mahommed Yusefzai, down to kill or steal ; Chimbu Singh from Bikaneer, Tantia the Bhil ; 37 38 WHAT HAPPENED Killar Khan the Marri chief, Jowar Singh the Sikh, Nubbee Baksh Punjabi Jat, Abdul Huq Rafiq — He was a Wahabi ; last, httle 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. 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 sabre, quoit, and mace, Abdul Huq, Wahabi, took his dagger from its place, WHAT HAPPENED 39 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 all of them 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. Speak to placid Nubbee Baksh — question land and sea — Ask the Indian Congress men — only don't ask me ! THE MAN WHO COULD WRITE Shun — shun the Bowl / That fatal, facile drink Has ruined inafiy geese who dipped their quills in't, Bribe, 7?iurder, marry, but steer clear of Ink Save when you write receipts for paid-up bills in't. There 7nay be silver in the " blue-black " — all J 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.] 40 THE iMAN WHO COULD WRITE 41 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 Indian paper praised his plucky game, Boanerges Bhtzen 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. 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." 42 THE MAN WHO COULD WRITE 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. PINK DOMINOES " They are fools who kiss and ieW — Wisely has the poet sung. Man may hold all sorts of posts If he'll 07ily 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. [I wish you to see that Jenny and Me Had barely exchanged our troth ; 43 44 PINK DOMINOES 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 ; And I had embraced a stranger's waist — But I did not tell her so. Next morn I knew that there were two Dominoes pink, and one PINK DOMINOES 45 Had cloaked the spouse of Sir Julian Vouse, Our big Political gun. Sir J. was old, and her hair was gold, And her eyes were 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 oi pice Forbade us twain to marry, That old Sir J. in the kindest way. Made me his Secre/^rry ? MUNICIPAL " IV/iy is my District death-rate low ? " Said Binks of Hezabad. " Wells, drai7ts, and sew age -outfalls are " My own peculiar fad. " / learnt a lesson once. It ran " Thus,'' quoth that most veracious mati : — It was an August evening, and in snowy garments clad, I paid a round of visits in the lines of Hezabad ; 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. 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. 46 MUNICIPAL 47 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 of 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 where he snorted in my ear — Reached the four-foot drain-head safely, and in dark- ness and despair, Felt the brute's proboscis fingering my terror-stiffened hau\ Heard it trumpet on my shoulder — tried to crawl a Httle 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 feehng bhndly for a purchase on my toes ! 48 MUNICIPAL 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, /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. THE LAST DEPARTMENT Twelve hundred million men are spread About this Earth, and I and You Wonder^ when You afid I are dead, What will those luckless millions do ? " None whole or clean," we cry, " or free from stain Of favour." Wait awhile, till we attain The Last Department where nor fraud nor fools, Nor grade nor greed, shall trouble us again. Fear, Favour, or Affection — what are these To the grim Head who claims our services ? I never knew a wife or interest yet Delay tha.t pukha 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 49 50 THE LAST DEPARTMENT 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-grinder, 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 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 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 colour 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. I wish / had Her constant cheek : I wish that I could sing 63 54 MY RIVAL 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 come, the young men go. Each pink and white and neat. She's older than their mothers, but They grovel at Her feet. They walk beside Her ^ rickshaw -v^Yitth — They never 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 Don't help to fill my programme-card, And vainly I repine From ten to two a.m. Ah me! Would I were forty-nine. MY RIVAL 55 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 for ever 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 1 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 season at Simla, oh sweetest and best of your kind? Does the P. and O. bear you to meward, or, clad in short 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? 6G TO THE UxNKNOVVN GODDESS 57 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 pigskin shall please not; when I buy me Calcutta-built clothes; When I quit the Delight of Wild Asses; forswearing 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 The Goddess I know not nor worship; yet, if half that men tell me be true. You will come in the future, and therefore the verses are written to you! THE RUPAIYAT OF OMAR KAL'VIN {^Allowing for the difference Hivixt prose and rhymed exaggeration, this ought to reproduce the sense of what Sir A told the natioti sotne time ago, when the Goverfi- ment struck from our inco7nes 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! 68 THE RUPAIYAT OF OMAR KAL^VIN 59 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 a 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 Statesmen 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 Charily Seek not the Reason of the Dearth, but fill. 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 ravel deeper in a hopeless Skein? 60 THE RUPAIYAT OF OMAR KAL^VIN "Who hath not Prudence " — what was it I said, Of Her who paints her Eyes and tires Her Head, And jibes 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, PAGETT, M.P. The toad beneath the harrow knows Exactly where each tooth-point goes ; The butterfly upon the road Preaches contentmetit to that toad. Pagett, M.P., was a liar, and a fluent liar there- with, — 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." March went out with the roses. "Where is your heat?" said he. "Coming," said I to Pagett. "Skittles!" said Pagett, M.P. 61 62 PAGETT, M.P. April opened with punkahs, 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. Itnprimis — ten days' "liver" — due to his drinking beer; Later, a dose of fever — slight, but he called it severe. Dysent'ry touched him in June, after the Chota Bur sat — 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 ever stayed. PAGETT, M.P. 63 July was a trifle unhealthy, — Pagett 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. That was an end to the business; Pagett, the per- jured, 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 travelled idiots who duly mis- govern the land, And I prayed to the Lord to deliver another one into my hand. 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, Tara 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, 61 LA NUIT BLANCHE 65 Laws of gravitation scorning, On the ceiling and the wall; 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 bed-room — 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. 66 LA NUIT BLANCHE Half the night I watched the Heavens Fizz like '8i 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; So I patted It for pity. But It whistled shrill with wrath, And a huge, black Devil City Poured its peoples on my path. LA NUIT BLANCHE 67 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. 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 Aveep, Till the dawn-wind, softly, slowly. Brought to burning eyelids sleep. THE LOVERS' LITANY Eyes of gray — the sodden quay, Driving rain and falling tears, As the steamer heads 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 — the throbbing keel Milky foam to left and right; Little vi^hispers near the wheel In the brilliant tropic night. Cross that rules the Southern Sky, Stars that sweep, and wheel, and fly. Hear the Lovers' Litany : — ^^ Love like ours can 7ievcr die / " Eyes of brown — the dusty plain Split and parched with heat of June. 68 THE LOVERS' LITANY 69 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: — " Love like ours can never die / " Eyes of blue — the Simla Hills Silvered with the moonlight hoar; Pleading of the waltz that thrills, Dies and echoes round Benmore. ''Mabel,'' " Officers;' " Good-bye^' 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. Yet, despite this evil case. And a maiden showed me grace, Four-and- forty times would I Sing the Lovers' Litany : — "Love like ours can never die ! " A BALLAD OF BURIAL ''''Saint Praxed''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, and pack me thoroughly. In the ice that used to slake Drinks 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 clamour coolies make; Thus in frozen dignity Send me up for old sake's sake. 70 A BALLAD OF BURIAL 71 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. Don't go down at once. I trust You will find excuse to " snake 72 A BALLAD OF BURIAL 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. THE OVERLAND MAIL \Foot-service to the Hills] In the name of the Empress of India, make way, O Lords of the Jungle, wherever you roam, The woods are awake at the end of the day — We exiles are waiting for letters from Home. Let the robber retreat — and 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 waistbelt, the Post Office bill; — " Despatched on this date, as received by the rail, ^^ Per runner, two bags of the Overland Mail." Is the torrent in spate? He must ford it or swim. Has the rain wrecked the road? He must climb by the cliff, 73 74 THE OVERLAND MAIL 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. 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-sandalled feet, strains the scrawny brown chest. From rail to ravine — to the peak from the vale — Up, up through the night goes the Overland Mail. There's a speck on the hill-side, 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 ! " DIVIDED DESTINIES It was an artless Bandar, and he danced upon a pine, And much I wondered how he hved, 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 : — " Oh man of many clothes ! Sad crawler on the Hills ! "Observe, I know not Ranken's shop, nor Ranken'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. " I steal the bunnia's grain at morn, at noon and even- tide "(For he is fat and I am spare), I roam the mountain side, 76 76 DIVIDED DESTINIES " I follow no man's carriage, and no, never in my life " Have I flirted at Peliti's with another Bandar^ s wife. "Oh 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, of 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. "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 undisguisedly 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 1 DIVIDED DESTLNIES 77 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." THE MASQUE OF PLENTY Argument. — The Indian Government being minded to discover 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 Incar- nation of the Gover?inient of India i?i the raiment of the A7igel of Plenty sitigs, to pianoforte ac- companiment : — " How sweet is the shepherd's sweet Ufe ! 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 ! " {Jargendo con sp.) Now this is the position, Go make an inquisition Into their real condition As swiftly as ye may. (/) Ay, paint our swarthy billions The richest of vermilions Ere two well-led cotillions Have danced themselves away. 78 THE MASQUE OF PLENTY 79 Turkish Patrol, as able and intelligent Investigators wind down the Himalayas : — What is the state of the Nation? What is its occupa- tion? Hi ! get along, get along, get along, — lend us the information ! {dim.) Census the byle and \kiQ yabu — capture a first- class Babu, Set him to cut Gazetteers — Gazetteers . . . (/■) What is the state of the Nation, &c., &c. 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 — And faint ^vith fervour of the flaming air The languid hours pass. Our wells are 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, 80 THE MASQUE OF PLENTY 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 ! 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 St7nla of the Investigators, attired after the manner of Dionysus, leading a pet tiger-cub in wreaths of 7'hudar/) leaves, sytnbolical 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. THE MASQUE OF PLENTY 81 We have said of the Sickness — " Where is it ? " — and of Death — " It is far from our ken," — 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 fjiag and the thakur 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 jat in his stucco-fronted hut, And the bounding baziigar, By the favour of the King, are as fat as anything, They are — they are — they are ! Recitative, Govermnent 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 unanimously dining. And though there are places not so blessed as others 82 THE MASQUE OF PLENTY 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. Chorus of the Crystallized 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, Ripon fooling with Heaven, And Temple riding like H — 11 ! 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 THE MASQUE OF PLENTY 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 his priest And send his children to school. Railways and roads they wrought, For the needs of the trade 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, Tn 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 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 MachiavelH 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. He vexed her righteous soul until She went up, and he went down hill. 84 THE MARE'S NEST 85 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 MachiaveUi, 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 : — " Vour Lilly's got a cough again. ^^ Can't titiderstand why she is kept ^^ At your expensed 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. Sent off that letter, wrote another To her solicitor — and mother. Then Belial MachiaveUi saw Her error and, I trust, his o^vn, Wired to the minion of the Law, And travelled wifeward — not alone : 86 THE MARE'S NEST 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. THE BALLAD OF FISHER'S P.OARDING- HOUSE That night when through the mooring chains The wide-eyed corpse roiled free ^ To blunder down by Garden Reach And rot at Kedgeree, Tne tale the Hughli told the shoal The lean shoal whispered me. 'TwAS 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. 87 88 BALLAD OF FISHER'S BOARDING-HOUSE And there was Hans the Blue-eyed Dane, Bull-throated, bare of arm, Who carried on his hairy chest The maid Ultmda'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 — Russ, German, English, Halfbreed, 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, BALLAD OF FISHER'S BOARDING-HOUSE 89 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 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. 90 BALLAD OF FISHER'S BOARDING-HOUSE 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. " 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. BALLAD OF FlSilER-S DOAKDING-HOUSE 01 In Anne of Austria's trembling hands The weary head fell low : — " 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. 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-\\^\. 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 " Vreafft Faces " better than us all. For, think you, as the vapours flee Across Sanjaolie after rain, 92 POSSIBILITIES 93 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. 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, danced in ghostly wise, With ghosts of tunes for melodies, And vanished at the morning's breath ! 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 saltpeter 1" And after? — Ask the Yusufzaies What comes of all our 'ologies. A scrimmage in a Border Station — A canter down some dark defile — Two thousand pounds of education Drops to a ten-vwi^eejezatV — The Crammer's boast, the Squadron's pride, Shot like a rabbit in a ride ! 94 ARITHMETIC ON THE FRONTIER 95 No proposition Euclid wrote, No formulce 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 of moods and tenses, But, being blest 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. 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. THE SONG OF THE WOMEN (Lady Dufferin's Fiend for Medical 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 bazar? Free wind of March, against the lattice blowing, Bear thou our thanks lest she depart unknowing. 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. Out of our shadow pass and seek her singing — " I have no gifts but Love alone for bringing." 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 ; 96 THE SONG OF THE WOMEN 97 For we have seen the Hght, and it were grievous To dim that dawning if our lady leave us. By life that ebbed with none to staunch the failing, By Love's sad harvest garnered in the spring, When Love in Ignorance wept unavailing O'er young buds dead before their blossoming; By all the gray owl watched, the pale moon viewed, In past grim years declare our gratitude ! By hands upHfted to the Gods that heard not, By gifts that found no favour 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 naught. 98 THE SONG OF THE WOMEN Go forth, O 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 holpen by her in their need. All spring shall give thee fragrance, and the wheat Shall be a tasselled 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 ! " THE BETROTHED "You imist choose between vie and your agar." Open the old cigar-box, get me a Cuba stout, For things are running crossways, and Maggie and I are out. We quarrelled 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 vapour musing on Maggie's face. 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 — 99 100 THE BETROTHED 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! 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 awhile — 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 101 Counsellors 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 naught in return, With only a Suttee's 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. 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. 102 THE BETROTHED 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 that gives me my choice between The wee little whimpering Love and the great god Nick o' Teen. And I have been servant of Love for barely a twelve- month 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 hght on the marshes is the Will-o'-the- Wisp of Love. THE BETROTHED 103 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? 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 BALLADE OF JAKKO HILL One moment bid the horses wait, Since tiffin is not laid till three, Below the upward path and strait You climbed a year ago with me. Love came upon us suddenly And loosed — an idle hour to kill — A headless, harmless armoury That smote us both on Jakko Hill. Ah Heaven ! we would wait and wait Through Time and to Eternity ! Ah Heaven ! we would 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. What came of high resolve and great, And until Death fidelity ? 104 A BALLADE OF JAKKO HILL 105 Whose horse is waiting at your gate ? Whose ' rtckshaw-whteXs ride over me? No Saint's, I swear ; and — let me see To-night what names your programme fill — We drift asunder merrily, As drifts the mist on Jakko Hill ! L'envoi Woman, 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 Too late, alas I the song To remedy the wrong; — TTie rooms are taken front ns, swept a?id garnished for their fate But these tear-besprinkled pages Shall attest to future ages That tve 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 ; 100 THE PLEA OF THE SIMLA DANCERS 107 And we revolved to divers melodies, And we were happy but a year ago. To-night the moon that watched our Hghtsome 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 gallop's strain — By dim verandahs and by soft replies, Give us our ravished ball-room back again ! Or — hearken 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 ; And when you count your poor Provincial milhons. The only figures that your pen shall frame Shall be the figures of dear, dear cotillons Danced out in tumult long before you came. 108 THE PLEA OF THE SIMLA DANCERS Yea ! " See Saw'' shall upset your estimates, " Dreajn-faces " shall your heavy heads bemuse. Because your hand, unheeding, desecrates Our temple ; fit for higher, worthier use. And all the long verandahs, 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 naught. And ever in your ears a phantom Band Shall blare away the staid official thought. 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 ! "AS THE BELL CLINKS" As I left the Halls at Lumley, rose the vision of a comely Maid last season worshipped dumbly, watched with fervour 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. Ay, 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 tuneless jar Of a Wagner ohbligato, scherzo, double-hand staccato, Played on either pony's saddle by the clacking tonga- bar — Played with human speech, I fancied, by the jigging, jolting bar. 109 no "AS THE BELL CLINKS" " She was sweet," thought I, " last season, but 'twere surely wild unreason " Such a 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!'" choked 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 shde by. To — " You call on Her to-morrow .^ " — fugue with cymbals by the bar — " You must call on Her to-morrow ! " — post- horn gal- lop by the bar. Yet a further stage my goal on — we were whirling down to Solon, With a double lurch and roll on, best foot foremost, ganz und gar — "AS THE BELL CLINKS" 111 " She was very sweet," I hinted. " If a kiss had been imprinted ?" ^^ Would ha' saved a world of trouble T' clashed the busy tonga- bar. *^'Bcen accepted or rejected f' 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 in- comes are Made me put a question private, you can guess what I would drive at. " 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 wealthy Avatar? "Answer, monitor untiring, 'twixt the ponies twain perspiring 1" 112 "AS THE BELL CLINKS" " 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 hghts 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 — The reiterated order of the threshing tonga-bar : — " Try your luck — you can't do better !" twanged the loosened tonga-bar. 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. And they bear One o'er the field-path who is past all hope or caring. To the ghat below the curling wreaths of smoke. 113 114 CHRISTMAS IN INDIA Call on Rama, going slowly, as ye bear a brother lowly — Call on Rama — he may hear, perhaps, your voice ! With our hymnbooks 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 heUnweh, ceaseless, aching! 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 we know the fulness of our gain. (}ray dusk behind the tamarisks — the parrots fly together — As the Sun is sinking slowly over Home; CHRISTMAS IN INDIA 116 And his last ray turns to jeer us shackled in a life- long 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. 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 hopeless years before us. Let us honour, oh my brothers, Christmas Day ! Call a truce, then, to our labours — let us feast with friends and neighbours. 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. THE GRAVE OF THE HUNDRED HEAD THERE'' S a widow in sleepy Chester Who weeps for her otily soji ; There^s a grave on the Fabejtg River, A grave that the Burmans shu7i. And there^s Siibadar 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 Hira Lai, Took command of the party, Twenty rifles in all, Marched them down to the river As the day was beginning to fall. 116 THE GRAVE OF THE HUNDRED HEAD 117 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 sairiddh in his honour, A mark for his resting-place. P'or 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. Till they came to the rebel village. The village of Pabengmay — A Jingal covtxtA the clearing, Calthrops hampered the way. Subadar Prag Tewarri, Bidding them load with ball, Halted a dozen rifles Under the village-wall; 118 THE GRAVE OF THE HUNDRED HEAD Sent out a flanking-party With Jemadar Hira Lai. The men of the First Shikaris Shouted and smote and slew, Turning the grinningyT^^-^/ 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, 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 village — 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, THE GRAVE OF THE HUNDRED HEAD 119 Head upon head distorted, Clinched in a sightless grin, Anger and pain and terror Writ on the smoke-scorched skin. Subadar Prag Tewarri Set the head of the Boh 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 saviddh 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 kullaJi's head Must be paid for with heads five score. 120 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 Pabeng River, A grave that the Burmans shunt And there"* s Subadar Frag Tewarri Who tells how the work was done. 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 as I love you What pair so happy as we two ? So long as Aces take the King, Or backers take the bet. So long as debt leads men to wed; Or marriage leads to debt; So long as little luncheons, Love, And scandal hold their vogue. While there is sport at Annandale Or whiskey at Jutogh, If you love me as I love you What knife can cut our love in tivo ? 121 122 AN OLD SONG 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 Whaishername for sale? If you love me as Hove you We^ II play the game and win it loo. So long as Lust or Lucre tempt Straight riders from the course, So long as with each drink we pour Black brewage of Remorse; So long as those unloaded guns We keep beside the bed, Blow off, by obvious accident, The lucky owner's head. If you love 7ne as I love you What can Life kill or Death undo 7 So long as Death 'twixt dance and dance Chills best and bravest blood AN OLD SONG 123 And drops the reckless rider down The rotten, rain-soaked khiid ; So long as rumours from the North Make loving wives afraid, So long as Burma claims 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 clamour overhead. Sleep, with the gray langur for guard Our very scornful Dead, If you love ?ne as I love you All Earth is servant to us tzvo / By Docket, Billetdoux, and File, By Mountain, Cliff, and Fir, By Fan and Sword and Office-box, By Corset, Plume, and Spur; 124 AN OLD SONG By Riot, Revel, Waltz, and War, By Woman, 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 ? CERTAIN MAXIMS OF HAFIZ I If It be pleasant to look on, stalled in the packed seraiy 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 ! " 2 Yea, though a Kafir die, to him is remitted Jehannum If he borrowed in Hfe from a native at sixty per cent, per annum. 3 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. 126 126 CERTAIN MAXIMS OF HAFIZ 4 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? 5 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. 6 Does the woodpecker flit round the young ferash ? Does grass clothe a new-built wall? Is she under thirty the woman who holds a boy in her thrall? 7 If She grows suddenly gracious — reflect. Is it all for thee? The blackbuck is stalked through the bullock, and Man through jealousy. 8 Seek not for favour of women. So shall you find it indeed. Does not the boar break cover just when you're light- ing a weed? CERTAIN MAXIMS OF HAFIZ 127 9 If He play, being young and unskilful, for shekels of silver and gold, Take His money, my son, praising Allah. The kid was ordained to be sold. lO 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. II Pleasant the snaffle of Courtship, improving the man- ners and carriage, But the colt who is wise will abstain from the terrible thorn-bit of Marriage ; 12 As the thriftless gold of the babul so is the gold that we spend On a Derby Sweep, or our neighbour's wife, or the horse that we buy from a friend. 128 CERTAIN MAXIMS OF HAFIZ 13 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. V 14 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. 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 ? 15 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 iiibtant but burn it. Tear it in pieces, O Fool, and the wind to her mate shall return it ! CERTAIN MAXIMS OF HAFIZ 12!) If there be trouble to Herward, and a lie of the blackest can clear, Lie, while thy lips can move or a man is ahve to hear. i6 My Son, if a maiden deny thee and scufflingly bid thee give o'er. Yet lip meets with lip at the lastward — get out ! She has been there before. They are pecked on the ear and the chin and the nose who are lacking in lore. 17 If we fall in the race, though we win, the hoof- slide is scarred on the course. Though Allah and Earth pardon Sin, remaineth for ever Remorse. 18 " 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. 130 CERTAIN MAXIMS OF HAFIZ 19 My son, if I, Hafiz, thy father, take hold of thy knees in my pain, 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 MOON OF OTHER DAYS Beneath the deep verandah's shade, When bats begin to fly, I sit me down and watch — alas Another evening die. Blood-red behind the seieferask 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? But Wandle's stream is Sutlej now, And Putney's evening haze 131 132 THE MOON OF OTHER DAYS 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 /^<3;^/// blooms. Glare down, old Hecate, through the dust And bid the pie-dog yell. Draw from the drain its typhoid germ, From each bazar 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 FALL OF JOCK GILLESPIE This fell when dinner-time was done — 'Twixt the first an' the second rub — That oor mon 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 — " God save the lad ! Whence comes the licht "That wimples on his face? " 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." 133 134 THE FALL OF JOCK GILLESPIE "There's whusky brewed in Galashiels, "An' L. L. L. forbye; " 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! "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 Havannahs couldna leave, "Sae white an' pure an ash. THE FALL OP^ JOCK GILLPISPIE 135 "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 fou! Oh! we're no fou! " But plainly we can ken "Ye're fallin', fallin', fra' the band "O' cantie single men!" An' it fell when strris-sha.ws were sere, An' the nichts were lang and mirk, In braw new breeks, wi' a gowden ring, Oor Jockie gaed to the Kirk. WHAT THE PEOPLE SAID ' [June 2ist, 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, O Land, rejoice." And the Ploughman 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, "And the Mlech, in the fated year, " Broke the spear in twain, 136 WHAT THE PEOPLE SAID 137 "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, O People all!" And the Ploughman 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. "Our Kings and our Queens are afar — "On their peoples be peace — " God bringeth the rain to the Bar, "That our cattle increase." 138 WHAT THE PEOPLE SAID And the Ploughman 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 ploughshare 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 " To-tschi?i-shu is condemned to death. Hozu can he drink tea with the executioner P'' — 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?" Ah ! stud-bred of ill-omen, I have watched the strongest go — men 139 140 THE UNDERTAKER'S HORSE 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, sombre 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, O 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, 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. THE UNDERTAKER'S HORSE 141 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, O Undertaker's Horse ! But to insult, gibe, and quest, I've Still the hideously suggestive Trot that hammers out the unrelenting 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 ? " 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. Ay de mi I 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? 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, 142 ONE VICEROY RESIGNS 143 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. / 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, 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 drouth 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. 144 ONE VICEROY RESIGNS 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 — ;;agrant star-dust sivirled, Sit such as fought and sailed and ruled and loved and made our world. They are purged of pride because they died ; they know the worth of their bays ; They sit at wine with the Maidens Nine, and the Gods of the Elder Days — // is their will to serve or be still as fitteth our Father'' s praise. ^Tis theirs to sweep through the ringing deep where AzraeVs outposts are. Or buffet a path through the Pifs red wrath when God goes out to war, Or hang with the reckless Seraphim on the rein of a red- 7naned star. They take their mirth in the joy of the earth — they dare ?iot grieve for her pain — For they ktiow of toil and the end of toil — they know God'^s Law is plain ; So they whistle the Devil to make them sport who know that sin is vain. And ofttimes cometh our wise Lord God, master of every trade, And tells them tales of the Seventh Day — of Edens newly made. And they rise to their feet as He passes by — ge?itlemen un- afraid. To these who are cleansed of base Desire^ Sorrow and L2ist and Shame — Gods, for they knew the heart of Men — men, for they stooped to Fame — Borne on the breath that men call Death, my brother'' s spirit came. Scarce had he need to cast his pride or slough the dross of earth. E''en as he trod that day to God, so walked he from his birth — In sijnpleness and gentleness and honour and clean mirth. So, cup to Up in fellowship, they gave him welcofne high And made him place at the banquet board, the Strong Men ra7iged thereby, Who had done his work and held his peace and had no fear to die. Beyond the loom of the last lone star through open darkness hurled. Further than rebel comet dared or hiving star -swarm swirled, Sits he with such as praise our God for that they served his world. CONTENTS Ballads PAGE THE BALLAD OF EAST AND WEST Oh East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet, ...... 3 THE LAST SUTTEE Udai Chand lay sick to death, 12 THE BALLAD OF THE KING'S MERCY Abdhur Rahman, the Durani Chief, of him is the story told, 18 THE BALLAD OF THE KING'S JEST When spring-time flushes the desert grass, . . 25 WITH SCINDIA TO DELHI The wreath of banquet overnight lay withered on the neck, ......... 31 THE BALLAD OF BOH DA THONE This is the ballad of Boh Da Thone, ... 40 THE LAMENT OF THE BORDER CATTLE THIEF O woe is me for the merry life, • • • • 53 xi xii CONTENTS PAGE THE RHYME OF THE THREE CAPTAINS ... At the close of a winter day, .... 56 THE BALLAD OF THE ' CLAMPHERDOWN ' It was our war-ship ' Clampherdown,' ... 64 THE BALLAD OF THE 'BOLIVAR' Seven men from all the world, back to docks again, 69 THE LOST LEGION There's a legion that never was 'listed, . . .74 THE SACRIFICE OF ER-HEB Er-Heb beyond the hills of Ao-Safai, ... 77 THE DOVE OF DACCA The freed dove flew to the Rajah's tower — . . 88 THE EXPLANATION Love and Death once ceased their strife, . . 90 AN ANSWER A rose, in tatters on the garden path, . . . 91 THE GIFT OF THE SEA The dead child lay in the shroud, .... 92 EVARRA AND HIS GODS Read here : This is the story of Evarra — man — , . 96 CONTENTS xiii PAGE THE CONUNDRUM OF THE WORKSHOPS When the flush of a new-born sun fell first on Eden's green and gold, ....... loo IN THE NEOLITHIC AGE In the Neolithic Age savage warfare did I wage, . 104 THE LEGEND OF EVIL This is the sorrowful story, ..... 107 THE ENGLISH FLAG Winds of the World, give answer? They are whim- pering to and fro — , 1 1 1 'CLEARED' Help for a patriot distressed, a spotless spirit hurt, . 117 AN IMPERIAL RESCRIPT Now this is the tale of the Council the German Kaiser decreed, 125 TOMLINSON Now Tomlinson gave up the ghost in his house in Berkeley Square, . . , , . . 129 xiv CONTENTS Barrack-Room Ballads DANNY DEEVER * What are the bugles blowin' for ? ' said Files-on- Parade, 143 TOMMY I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer, . 146 * FUZZY-WUZZY ' We've fought with many men acrost the seas, , . 1 50 SOLDIER, SOLDIER * Soldier, soldier, come from the wars,' . . , 153 SCREW-GUNS Smokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin' the mornin' cool, . . . . . . .156 CELLS I've a head like a concertina : I've a tongue like a button-stick, 160 GUNGA DIN You may talk o' gin and beer, . • . . 163 CONTENTS XV PACE OONTS ! Wot makes the soldier's 'eart to penk, wot makes him to perspire? 167 LOOT If you've ever stole a pheasant-egg be'ind the keeper's back, '7' *SNARLEYOW' This 'appened in a battle to a batt'ry of the corps, . 175 THE WIDOW AT WINDSOR 'Ave you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor, . . '79 BELTS There was a row in Silver Street that's near to Dublin Quay, 182 THE YOUNG BRITISH SOLDIER When the 'arf-made recruity goes out to the East, . 186 MANDALAY By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea, 190 TROOPIN' Troopin', troopin', troopin' to the sea, . . I94 xvi CONTENTS PAGE THE WIDOW'S PARTY ' Where have you been this while away/ . . . 197 FORD O' KABUL RIVER Kabul town's by Kabul river — , .... 200 GENTLEMEN-RANKERS To the Legion of the Lost Ones to the Cohort of the Damned, 203 ROUTE-MARCHIN' We're marchin' on relief over Injia's sunny plains, . 206 SHILLIN' A DAY My name is O' Kelly, I've heard the revelly, . . 210 L'ENVOI There's a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield, 213 BALLADS THE BALLAD OF EAST AND WEST Ohj East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet, Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God^s great Judgmejit Seat ; But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth, When two strong men stand face to face, tho^ they come from the ends of the earth / Kamal is out with twenty men to raise the Border side, And he has lifted the Colonel's mare that is the Colonel's pride: He has lifted her out of the stable-door between the dawn and the day, And turned the calkins upon her feet, and ridden her far away. 3 4 THE BALLAD OF Then up and spoke the Colonel's son that led a troop of the Guides : 'Is there never a man of all my men can say where Kamal hides? ' Then up and spoke Mahommed Khan, the son of the Ressaldar, *If ye know the track of the morning-mist, ye know where his pickets are. *At dusk he harries the Abazai — at dawn he is into Bonair, 'But he must go by Fort Bukloh to his own place to fare, *So if ye gallop to Fort Bukloh as fast as a bird can fly, *By the favour of God ye may cut him off ere he win to the Tongue of Jagai, 'But if he be passed the Tongue of Jagai, right swiftly turn ye then, *For the length and the breadth of that grisly plain is sown with Kamal' s men. 'There is rock to the left, and rock to the right, and low lean thorn between, *And ye may hear a breech-bolt snick where never a man is seen.' EAST AND WEST 6 The Colonel's son has taken a horse, and a raw rough dun was he, With the mouth of a bell and the heart of Hell, and the head of the gallows-tree. The Colonel's son to the Fort has won, they bid him stay to eat — Who rides at the tail of a Border thief, he sits not long at his meat. He's up and away from Fort Bukloh as fast as he can fly, Till he was aware of his father's mare in the gut of the Tongue of Jagai, Till he was aware of his father's mare with Kamal upon her back. And when he could spy the vrhite of her eye, he made the pistol crack. He has fired once, he has fired tv/ice, but the whist- ling ball went wide. 'Ye shoot like a soldier,' Kamal said. 'Show now if ye can ride. ' It's up and over the Tongue of Jagai, as blown dust- devils go. The dun he fled like a stag of ten, but the mare like a barren doe. 6 THE BALLAD OF The dun he leaned against the bit and slugged his head above, But the red mare played with the snafHe-bars, as a maiden plays with a glove. There was rock to the left and rock to the right, and low lean thorn between, And thrice he heard a breech-bolt snick tho' never a man was seen. They have ridden the low moon out of the sky, their hoofs drum up the dawn, The dun he went like a wounded bull, but the mare like a new-roused fawn. The dun he fell at a water-course — in a woful heap fell he, And Kamal has turned the red mare back, and pulled the rider free. He has knocked the pistol out of his hand — small room was there to strive, "Twas only by favour of mine,' quoth he, 'ye rode so long alive : 'There was not a rock for twenty mile, there was not a clump of tree, *But covered a man of my own men with his rifle cocked on his knee. EAST AND WEST 7 'If I had raised my bridle-hand, as I have held it low, *The little jackals that flee so fast, wer* feasting all in a row: 'If I had bowed my head on my breast, as I have held it high, *Thc kite that whistles above us now were gorged till she could not fiy.' Lightly answered the Colonel's son: — 'Do good to bird and beast, *But count who come for the broken meats before thou makest a feast. 'If there should follow a thousand swords to carry my bones away, 'Belike the price of a jackal's meal were more than a thief could pay. 'They will feed their horse on the standing crop, their men on the garnered grain, 'The thatch of the byres will serve their fires when all the cattle are slain. 'But if thou thinkest the price be fair, — thy brethren wait to sup, *The hound is kin to the jackal-spawn, — howl, dog, and call them up ! 8 THE BALLAD OF 'And if thou thinkest the price be high, in steer and gear and stack, 'Give me my father's mare again, and I'll fight my own way back ! ' Kamal has gripped him by the hand and set him upon his feet. 'No talk shall be of dogs,' said he, 'when wolf and grey wolf meet. 'May I eat dirt if thou hast hurt of me in deed or breath; 'What dam of lances brought thee forth to jest at the dawn with Death ? ' Lightly answered the Colonel's son: 'I hold by the blood of my clan : 'Take up the mare for my father's gift — by God, she has carried a man ! ' The red mare ran to the Colonel's son, and nuzzled against his breast, 'We be two strong men,' said Kamal then, 'but she loveth the younger best. 'So she shall go with a lifter's dower, my turquoise- studded rein, 'My broidercd saddle and saddle-cloth, and silver stirrups twain.' EAST AND WEST 9 The Colonel's son a pistol drew and held it muzzle- end, *Ye have taken the one from a foe,' said he; 'will ye take the mate from a friend? ' *A gift for a gift,' said Kamal straight; 'a limb for the risk of a limb. *Thy father has sent his son to me, I'll send my son to him ! ' With that he whistled his only son, that dropped from a mountain-crest — He trod the ling like a buck in spring, and he looked like a lance in rest. *No-vV here is thy master,' Kamal said, Svho leads a troop of the Guides, *And thou must ride at his left side as shield on shoulder rides. 'Till Death or I cut loose the tie, at camp and board and bed, *Thy life is his — thy fate it is to guard him with thy head. *So thou must eat the White Queen's meat, and all her foes are thine, 'And thou must harry thy father's hold for the peace of the Border-line, 10 THE BALLAD OF *And thou must make a trooper tough and hack thy way to power — * Belike they will raise thee to Ressaldar when I am hanged in Peshawur.' They have looked each other between the eyes, and there they found no fault, They have taken the Oath of the Brother-in-Blood on leavened bread and salt : They have taken the Oath of the Brother-in-Blood on fire and fresh-cut sod, On the hilt and the haft of the Khyber knife, and the Wondrous Names of God. The Colonel's son he rides the mare and Kamal's boy the dun. And two have come back to Fort Bukloh where there went forth but one. And when they drew to the Quarter-Guard, full twenty swords flew clear — There was not a man but carried his feud with the blood of the mountaineer. *Ha' done! ha' done!' said the Colonel's son. *Put up the steel at your sides ! EAST AND WEST 11 'Last night ye had struck at a Border thief — to- night 'tis a man of the Guides! ' Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the two shall meet, Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God's greai Judgment Seat ; But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth, When two strong me7i stand face to face, tho' they come from the ends of the earth. THE lAST SUTTEE Not many years ago a King died in one of the Rajpoot States. His wives ^ dis7'egarding the orders of the E?iglisJi against suttee, would have broken out of the palace had not the gates been barred. But one of them, disguised as the King's favourite dancing-girl^ passed through the line of guards and reached the pyre. There, her courage fail- ing, she prayed her cousin, a baron of the court, to kill her. This he did, not knowiftg who she was. Udai Chand lay sick to death In his hold by Gungra hill. All night we heard the death-gongs ring For the soul of the dying Rajpoot King, All night beat up from the women's wing A cry that we could not still. All night the barons came and went, The lords of the outer guard : All night the cressets glimmered pale On Ulwar sabre and Tonk jczail, Mewar headstall and Marwar mail, That clinked in the palace yard„ 12 THE LAST SUTTEE 13 In the Golden room on the palace roof All night he fought for air: And there was sobbing behind the screen, Rustle and whisper of women unseen, And the hungry eyes of the Boondi Queen On the death she might not share. He passed at dawn — the death-fire leaped From ridge to river-head, From the ]\Ialwa plains to the Abu scaurs : And wail upon wail went up to the stars Behind the grim zenana-bars. When they knew that the King was dead. The dumb priest knelt to tie his mouth And robe him for the pyre. The Boondi Queen beneath us cried : 'See, now, that we die as our mothers died 'In the bridal-bed by our master's side! 'Out, women ! — to the fire ! ' We drove the great gates home apace : White hands were on the sill : 14 THE LAST SUTTEE But ere the rush of the unseen feet Had reached the turn to the open street, The bars shot down, the guard-drum beat— We held the dove-cot still. A face looked down in the gathering day, And laughing spoke from the wall : *0h^, they mourn here: let me by — *Azizun, the Lucknow nautch-girl, I? *When the house is rotten, the rats must fly, 'And I seek another thrall. 'For I ruled the King as ne'er did Queen, — 'To-night the Queens rule me! 'Guard them safely, but let me go, 'Or ever they pay the debt they owe *In scourge and torture ! ' She leaped below. And the grim guard watched her flee. They knew that the King had spent his soul On a North-bred dancing-girl : That he prayed to a flat-nosed Lucknow god, And kissed the ground where her feet had trod, And doomed to death at her drunken nod And swore by her lightest curl. THE LAST SUTTEE 16 We bore the King to his fathers' place, Where the tombs of the Sun-born stand : Where the grey apes swing, and the peacocks preen On fretted pillar and jewelled screen, And the wild boar couch in the house of the Queen On the drift of the desert sand. The herald read his titles forth, We set the logs aglow : 'Friend of the English, free from fear, *Baron of Luni to Jeysulmeer, 'Lord of the Desert of Bikaneer, 'King of the Jungle, — go ! * All night the red flame stabbed the sky With wavering wind-tossed spears : And out of a shattered temple crept A woman who veiled her head and wept, And called on the King — but the great King slept, And turned not for her tears. Small thought had he to mark the strife — Cold fear with hot desire — 16 THE LAST SUTTEE When thrice she leaped from the leaping flame, And thrice she beat her breast for shame, And thrice like a wounded dove she came And moaned about the fire. One watched, a bow-shot from the blaze, The silent streets between, Who had stood by the King in sport and fray, To blade in ambush or boar at bay, And he was a baron old and grey, And kin to the Boondi Queen. He said: 'O shameless, put aside *The veil upon thy brow ! *Who held the King and all his land *To the wanton will of a harlot's hand! *Will the white ash rise from the blistered brand? * Stoop down, and call him nowl ' Then she: *By the faith of my tarnished soul, *A11 things I did not well *I had hoped to clear ere the fire died, *And lay me down by my master's side 'To rule in Heaven his only bride, 'While the others howl in Hell. THE LAST SUTTEE 17 'But I have felt the fire's breath, 'And hard it is to die! *Yet if I may pray a Rajpoot lord *To sully the steel of a Thakur's sword 'With base-born blood of a trade abhorred,' — And the Thakur answered, 'Ay.' He drew and struck : the straight blade drank The life beneath the breast. *I had looked for the Queen to face the flame, 'But the harlot dies for the Rajpoot dame — 'Sister of mine, pass, free from shame. 'Pass with thy King to rest! ' The black log crashed above the white : The little flames and lean. Red as slaughter and blue as steel. That whistled and fluttered from head to heel. Leaped up anew, for they found their meal On the heart of — the Boondi Queen 1 B THE BALLAD OF THE KING'S MERCY Abdhur Rahman y the Durani Chief, of him is the story told. His mercy fills the Khyber hills — his grace h manifold; He has taken toll of the North and the South — his glory re ache th far, And they tell the tale of his charity from Balkh to Kandahar. Before the old Peshawur Gate, where Kurd and Kaffir meet, The Governor of Kabul dealt the Justice of the Street, And that was strait as running noose and swift as plunging knife, Tho' he who held the longer purse might hold the longer life. 18 THE KING'S MERCY 19 There was a hound of Hindustan had struck a Euzufzai, Wherefore they spat upon his face and led him out to die. It chanced the King went forth that hour when throat was bared to knife; The Kaffir grovelled under-hoof and clamoured for his life. Then said the King: 'Have hope, O friend! Yea, Death disgraced is hard; 'Much honour shall be thine ' ; and called the Captain of the Guard, Yar Khan, a bastard of the Blood, so city-babble saith, And he was honoured of the King — the which is salt to Death; And he was son of Daoud Shah the Reiver of the Plains, And blood of old Durani Lords ran fire in his veins; And 'twas to tame an Afghan pride nor Hell nor Heaven could bind. The King would make him butcher to a yelping cm of Hind. 20 THE BALLAD OF * Strike! said the King. 'King's blood art thou — his death shall be his pride ! ' Then louder, that the crowd might catch: *Fear not — his arms are tied ! ' Yar Khan drew clear the Khyber knife, and struck, and sheathed again. *0 man, thy will is done,' quoth he; 'A King this dog hath slain. ' Abdhur RaJunaji, the Dura?ii Chief, to the North and the South is sold. The North and the South shall open their mouth to a Ghilzai flag unrolled, When the big guns speak to the Khyber peak^ and his dog-Heratis fly, Ye have heard the song — How long? How long? Wolves of the Abazai! That night before the watch was set, when all the streets were clear, The Governor of Kabul spoke: *My King, hast thou no fear? *Thou knowest — thou hast heard,' — his speech died at his master's face. i THE KINC/S MERCY 21 And grimly said the Afghan King: *I nile the Afghan race. *My path is mine — see thou to thine — to-night upon thy bed *Think who there be in Kabul now that clamour for thv head.' That night when all the gates were shut to City and to Throne, Within a little garden-house the King lay do^^Ti alone. Before the sinking of the moon, which is the Night of Night, Yar Khan came softly to the King to make his honour white. The children of the town had mocked beneath his horse's hoofs, The harlots of the town had hailed him 'butcher!' from their roofs. But as he groped against the wall, two hands upon him fell, The King behind his shoulder spoke: 'Dead man, thou dost not well ! 22 THE BALLAD OF "Tis ill to jest with Kings by day and seek a boon by night; 'And that thou bearest in thy hand is all too sharp to write. 'But three days hence, if God be good, and if thy strength remain, 'Thou shalt demand one boon of me and bless me in thy pain. 'For I am merciful to all, and most of all to thee. 'My butcher of the shambles, rest — no knife hast thou for me ! ' Abdhur Rahman^ the Durafii Chief, holds hard by the South and the Noi'th ; But the Ghilzai knows, e?'e the ?nelti?igstiows, when the swollen banks break forth. When the red-coats crawl to the sungar wall, and his Usbeg lances fail. Ye have heard the song — How long? How long? Wolves of the Zuka Kheyll They stoned him in the rubbish-field when dawn was in the sky, According to the written word, 'See that he do not die.' THE KING\S MERCY 23 They stoned him till the stones were piled above him on the plain, And those the labouring limbs displaced they tumbled back again. One watched beside the dreary mound that veiled the battered thing, And him the King with laughter called the Herald of the King. It was upon the second night, the night of Ramazan, The watcher leaning earthward heard the message of Yar Khan. From shattered breast through shrivelled lips broke forth the rattling breath : 'Creature of God, deliver me from agony of Death.* They sought the King among his girls, and risked their lives thereby: 'Protector of the Pitiful, give orders that he die ! ' '•Bid him endure until the day,' a lagging answer came ; *The night is short, and he can pray and learn to bless my name.' 24 THE KING'S MERCY Before the dawn three times he spoke, and on the day once more : 'Creature of God, deliver me and bless the King therefore ! ' They shot him at the morning prayer, to ease him of his pain. And when he heard the matchlocks clink, he blessed the King again. Which thing the singers made a song for all the world to sing. So that the Outer Seas may know the mercy of the King. Abdhur Rahinan^ the Durani Chief, of him is the story told. He has opened his mouth to the North and tJie South, they have stuffed his mouth zvith gold. Ye know the truth of his tender 7-uth — and sweet his favours are. Ye have heard the song — How lo?ig? Hoio long? ffVfn Balkh to Katidahar. THE BALLAD OF THE KING'S JEST When spring-time flushes the desert grass, Our kafilas wind through the Khyber Pass. Lean are the camels but fat the frails, Light are the purses but heavy the bales, As the snowbound trade of the North comes down To the market-square of Peshawur town. In a turquoise twilight, crisp and chill, A kafila camped at the foot of the hill. Then blue smoke-haze of the cooking rose, And tentpeg answered to hammer-nose; And the picketed ponies shag and wild, Strained at their ropes as the feed was piled; And the bubbling camels beside the load Sprawled for a furlong adown the road; And the Persian pussy-cats, brought for sale. Spat at the dogs from the camel-bale ; And the tribesmen bellowed to hasten the food; 25 26 THE BALLAD OF And the camp-fires twinkled by Fort Jumrood; And there fled on the wings of the gathering dusk A savour of camels and carpets and musk, A murmur of voices, a reek of smoke, To tell us the trade of the Khyber woke. The lid of the flesh-pot chattered high, The knives were whetted and — then came I To Mahbub Ali, the muleteer, Patching his bridles and counting his gear, Crammed with the gossip of half a year. But Mahbub Ali the kindly said, 'Better is speech when the belly is fed.' So we plunged the hand to the mid-wrist deep In a cinnamon stew of the fat-tailed sheep. And he who never hath tasted the food. By Allah ! he knoweth not bad from good. We cleansed our beards of the mutton-grease. We lay on the mats and were filled with peace. And the talk slid north, and the talk slid south, With the sliding pufls from the hookah-mouth. Four things greater than all things are, — Women and Horses and Power and War. We spake of them all, but the last the most, THE KING'S JEST 27 For I sought a word of a Russian post, Of a shifty promise, an unsheathed sword And a grey-coat guard on the Hehnund ford. Then Mahbub Ali lowered his eyes In the fashion of one who is weaving lies. Quoth he: 'Of the Russians who can say? 'When the nighi is gathering all is grey. *But we look that the gloom of the night shall die *In the morning flush of a blood-red sky. 'Friend of my heart, is it meet or wise 'To warn a King of his enemies? 'We know what Heaven or Hell may bring, 'But no man knoweth the mind of the King. 'That unsought counsel is cursed of God 'Attesteth the story of Wall Dad. ' His sire was leaky of tongue and pen, ' His dam was a clucking Khuttuck hen ; ' And the colt bred close to the vice of each, • For he carried the curse of an unstaunched speech. ' Therewith madness — so that he sought 'The favour of kings at the Kabul court ; And travelled, in hope of honour, far •To the line where the grey-coat squadrons are. 'There have I journeyed too — but I 28 THE BALLAD OF *Saw naught, said naught, and — did not die! *He hearked to rumour, and snatched at a breath *0f "this one knoweth" and "that one saith," — 'Legends that ran from mouth to mouth *0f a grey-coat coming, and sack of the South- * These have I also heard — they pass 'With each new spring and the winter grass. * Hot-foot southward, forgotten of God, 'Back to the city ran Wali Dad, 'Even to Kabul — in full durbar 'The King held talk with his Chief in War. 'Into the press of the crowd he broke, 'And what he had heard of the coming spoke. 'Then Gholam Hyder, the Red Chief, smiled, 'As a mother might on a babbling child; 'But those who would laugh restrained their breath, 'When the face of the King showed dark as death. 'Evil it is in full durbar 'To cry to a ruler of gathering war! 'Slowly he led to a peach-tree small, 'That grew by a cleft of the city wall. 'And he said to the boy: "They shall praise thy zeal '"So long as the red spurt follows the steel. THE KING'S JEST 29 "And the Russ is upon us even now? " Great is thy prudence — await them, thou. " Watch from the tree. Thou art young and strong, "Surely thy vigil is not for long. "The Russ is upon us, thy clamour ran? "Surely an hour shall bring their van. " Wait and watch. When the host is near, "Shout aloud that my men may hear." Friend of my heart, is it meet or wise To warn a King of his enemies? A guard was set that he might not flee — A score of bayonets ringed the tree. The peach-bloom fell in showers of snow, When he shook at his death as he looked below. By the power of God, who alone is great, Till the seventh day he fought with his fate. Then madness took him, and men declare He mowed in the branches as ape and bear, And last as a sloth, ere his body failed. And he hung as a bat in the forks, and wailed, And sleep the cord of his hands untied, And he fell, and was caught on the points and died. Heart of my heart, is it meet or wise To warn a King of his enemies? 30 THE KING^S JEST *We know what Heaven or Hell may bring, *But no man knoweth the mind of the King. 'Of the grey-coat coming who can say? 'When the night is gathering all is grey. 'Two things greater than all things are, 'The first is Love, and the second War. 'And since we know not how War may prove^ 'Heart of my heart, let us talk of Love ! ' WITH SCINDIA TO DELHI More man a hundred years ago^ in a great battle fought near Delhi, an Indiati Prince I'ode fifty miles after the day was lost with a beggar-girl, who had loved him and followed him in all his camps, on his saddle-bow. He lost the girl when almost within sight of safety. A Maratta trooper tells the story : — The wreath of banquet overnight lay withered on the neck, Our hands and scarves were saffron-dyed for signal of despair, When we went forth to Paniput to battle with the Mlechy — Ere we came back from Paniput and left a king- dom there. Thrice thirty-thousand men were we to force the Jumna fords — The hawk-winged horse of Damajee, mailed squadrons of the Bhao, Copyright, 1892, V>y Macmillan & Co. »>1 32 WITH SCINDIA TO DELHI Stark levies of the southern hills, the Deccan's sharpest swords, And he the harlot's traitor son the goatherd Mulhar Rao ! Thrice thirty-thousand men were we before the mists had cleared, The low white mists of morning heard the war- conch scream and bray; We called upon Bhowani and we gripped them by the beard. We rolled upon them like a flood and washed their ranks away. The children of the hills of Khost before our lances •ran, We drove the black Rohillas back as cattle to the pen; 'Twas then we needed Mulhar Rao to end what we began, A thousand men had saved the charge; he fled the field with ten! WITH SCINDIA TO DELHI »tf There was no room to clear a sword — no power to strike a blow, For foot to foot, ay, breast to breast, the battle held us fast — Save where the naked hill men ran and stabbing from below Brought down the horse and rider and we trampled them and passed. To left the roar of musketry rang like a falling flood- To right the sunshine rippled red from redder lance and blade — Above the dark Upsaras ^ flew, beneath us plashed the blood. And, bellying black against the dust, the Bhagwa Jhanda swayed. I saw it fall in smoke and fire, the banner of the Bhao; T heard a voice across the press of one who called in vain : — 1 The Choosers of the Slain. C 34 WITH SCINDIA TO DELHI 'Ho! Anand Rao Nimbalkhur ride! Get aid of Mulhar Rao ! *Go shame his squadrons into fight — the Bhao — the Bhao is slain ! ' Thereat, as when a sand-bar breaks in clotted spume and spray — When rain of later autumn sweeps the Jumna water-head, 4 Before their charge from flank to flank our riven ranks gave way; But of the waters of that flood the Jumna fords ran red. I held by Scindia, my lord, as close as man might hold; A Soobah of the Deccan asks no aid to guard his life; But Holkar's Horse were flying, and our chief est chiefs were cold, And like a flame among us leapt the long lean Northern knife. WITH SCINDIA TO DELHI 86 I held by Scindia — my lance from bult to tuft was dyed, The frolh of battle bossed the shield and roped the bridle-chain — What time beneath our horses' feet a maiden rose and cried, And clung to Scindia, and I turned a sword-cut from the twain. (He set a spell upon the maid in woodlands long ago, A hunter by the Tapti banks she gave him water there : He turned her heart to water, and she followed to her woe. What need had he of Lalun who had twenty maids as fair?) Now in that hour strength left my lord; he wrenched his mare aside; He bound the girl behind him and we slashed and struggled free. 36 WITH SCINDIA TO DELHI Across the reeling wreck of strife we rode as shadows ride From Paniput to Delhi town, but not alone were we. 'Twas Liituf-Ullah Populzai laid horse upon our track, A swine-fed reiver of the North that lusted for the maid; I might have barred his path awhile, but Scindia called me back, And I — Oh woe for Scindia! — I listened and obeyed. League after league the formless scrub took shape and glided by — League after league the white road swirled behind the white mare's feet — League after league, when leagues were done, we heard the Populzai, Where sure as Time and swift as Death the tireless footfall beat. WITH SCINDIA TO DELHI 87 Noon's eye beheld that shame of flight, the shadows fell, we fled Where steadfast as the wheeling kite he followed in our train; The black wolf warred where we had warred, the jackal mocked our dead, And terror born of twilight tide made mad the labouring brain. I gasped: — *A kingdom waits my lord; her love is but her own. *A day shall mar, a day shall cure for her, but what for thee? Cut loose the girl: he follows fast. Cut loose and ride alone ! ' Then Scindia 'tvvixt his blistered lips: — 'My Queens' Queen shall she be ! *Of all who ear my bread last night 'twas she alone that came *To seek her love between the spears and find her crown therein ! 38 WITH SCINDIA TO DELHI 'One shame is mine to-day, what need the weight of double shame? 'If once we reach the Delhi gate, though all be lost, I win ! ' We rode — the white mare failed — her trot a stagger- ing stumble grew, — The cooking-smoke of even rose and weltered and hung low; And still we heard the Populzai and still we strained anew. And Delhi town was very near, but nearer was the foe. Yea, Delhi town was very near when Lalun whispered : —'Slay! 'Lord of my life, the mare sinks fast — stab deep and let me die ! ' But Scindia would not, and the maid tore free and flung away, And turning as she fell we heard the clattering Populzai. I WITH SCINDIA TO DELHI 39 Then Scindia checked the gasping mare that rocked and groaned for breath, And wheeled to charge and plunged the knife a hands-breadth in her side — The hunter and the hunted know how that last pause is death — The blood had chilled about her heart, she reared and fell and died. Our Gods were kind. Before he heard the maiden's piteous scream A log upon the Delhi road, beneath the mare he lay — Lost mistress and lost battle passed before him like a dream; The darkness closed about his eyes — I bore my King away. THE BALLAD OF BOH DA THONE This is the ballad of Boh Da TJione, Erst a Pretender to Theebaw's throne. Who harried the district of A la lone : How he met with his fate a?id the V.P.P. At the hand of Harendra Mukerji, Senior Gomashta, G.B.T. Boh Da Thone was a warrior bold, His sword and his Snider were bossed v/ith gold.. And the Peacock Banner his henchmen bore Was stiff with bullion but stiffer with gore. He shot at the strong and he slashed at the weak From the Salween scrub to the Chindwin teak: He crucified noble, he sacrificed mean, He filled old women with kerosene : While over the water the papers cried, 'The patriot fights for his countryside ! ' 40 BOH DA THONE 41 But little they cared for the Native Press, The worn white soldiers in Khaki dress, Who tramped through the jungle and camped in the byre, Who died in the swamp and were tombed in the mire. Who gave up their lives, at the Queen's Command, For the Pride of their Race and the Peace of the Land. Now, first of the foemen of Boh Da Thone Was Captain O'Neil of the 'Black Tyrone,' And his was a Company, seventy strong, Who hustled that dissolute Chief alongr. '&• There were lads from Galway and Louth and Meath Who went to their death with a joke in their teeth, And worshipped with fluency, fervour, and zeal The mud on the boot-heels of Xrook ' O'Neil, But ever a blight on their labours lay. And ever their quarry would vanish away, 42 THE BALLAD OF Till the sun-dried boys of the Black Tyrone Took a brotherly interest in Boh Da Thone : And, sooth, if pursuit in possession ends, The Boh and his trackers were best of friends. The word of a scout — a march by night — A rush through the mist — a scattering fight — A volley from cover — a corpse in the clearing — The glimpse of a loin-cloth and heavy jade earring — The flare of a village — the tally of slain — And . . . the Boh was abroad 'on the raid ' again! They cursed their luck as the Irish will, They gave him credit for cunning and skill. They buried their dead, they bolted their beef, And started anew on the track of the thief Till, in place of the 'Kalends of Greece,' men said, 'When Crook and his darlings come back with the head.' They had hunted the Boh from the Hills to the plain — He doubled and broke for the hills again: BOH DA THONE 43 They had crippled his power for rapine and raid, They had routed him out of his pet stockade, And at last, they came, when the Day Star tired, To a camp deserted — a village fired. A black cross blistered the Morning-gold, And the body upon it was stark and cold. The wind of the dawn went merrily past. The high grass bowed her plumes to the blast. And out of the grass, on a sudden, broke A spirtle of fire, a whorl of smoke — And Captain O'Neil of the Black Tyrone Was blessed with a slug in the ulna-bone — The gift of his enemy Boh Da Thone. (Now a slug that is hammered from telegraph-wire Is a thorn in the flesh and a rankling fire.) The shot-wound festered — as shot-wounds may In a steaming barrack at Mandalay. The left arm throbbed, and the Captain swore, 'I'd like to be after the Boh once more! ' 44 THE BALLAD OF The fever held him — the Captain said, *I'd give a hundred to look at his head! ' The Hospital punkahs creaked and whirred, But Babu Harendra (Gomashta) heard. He thought of the cane-brake, green and dank, That girdled his home by the Dacca tank. He thought of his wife and his High School son, He thought — but abandoned the thought — of a gun. His sleep was broken by visions dread Of a shining Boh with a silver head. He kept his counsel and went his way, And swindled the cartmen of half their pay. And the months went on, as the worst must do, And the Boh returned to the raid anew. But the Captain had quitted the long-drawn strife, And in far Simoorie had taken a wife. And she was a damsel of delicate mould. With hair like the sunshine and heart of gold. BOH DA THONE 45 And little she knew the arms that embraced Had cloven a man from the brow to the waist; And little she knew that the loving lips Had ordered a quivering life's eclipse, And the eye that lit at her lightest breath Had glared unawed in the Gates of Death. (For these be matters a man would hide, As a general rule, from an innocent Bride.) And little the Captain thought of the past, And, of all men, Babu Harendra last. But slow, in the sludge of the Kathun road, The Government Bullock Train toted its load. Speckless and spotless and shining with ghee^ In the rearmost cart sat the Babu-jee. And ever a phantom before him fled Of a scowling Boh with a silver head. Then the lead-cart stuck, though the coolies slaved. And the cartmen flogged and the escort raved; 46 THE BALLAD OF And out of the jungle, with yells and squeals, Pranced Boh Da Thone, and his gang at his heels ! Then belching blunderbuss answered back The Snider' s snarl and the carbine's crack, And the blithe revolver began to sing To the blade that twanged on the locking-ring, And the brown flesh blued where the bay 'net kissed, As the steel shot back with a wrench and a twist. And the great white bullocks with onyx eyes Watched the souls of the dead arise, And over the smoke of the fusillade The Peacock Banner staggered and swayed. Oh, gayest of scrimmages man may see Is a well-worked rush on the G.B.T. ! The Babu shook at the horrible sight. And girded his ponderous loins for flight, But Fate had ordained that the Boh should start On a lone-hand raid of the rearmost cart, BOH DA THONE 47 And out of that cart, with a bellow of woe, The Babu fell — flat on the top of the Boh ! For years had Harendra served the State, To the growth of his purse and the girth of his pet— There were twenty stone, as the tally-man knows, On the broad of the chest of this best of Bohs. And twenty stone from a height discharged Are bad for a Boh with a spleen enlarged. Oh, short was the struggle — severe was the shock — He dropped like a bullock — he lay like a block; And the Babu above him, convulsed with fear. Heard the labouring life-breath hissed out in his ear. And thus in a fashion undignified The princely pest of the Chindwin died. Turn now to Simoorie where, lapped in his ease, The Captain is petting the Bride on his knees, 48 THE BALLAD OF Where the wliit of the bullet, the wounded man's scream Are mixed as the mist of some devilish dream — Forgotten, forgotten the sweat of the shambles Where the hill-daisy blooms and the grey monkey gambols, From the sword-belt set free and released from the steel, The Peace of the Lord is with Captain O'NeiL Up the hill to Simoorie — most patient of drudges — The bags on his shoulder, the mail-runner trudges. *For Captain O'Neil, Sahib. One hundred and ten Rupees to collect on delivery.' Then (Their breakfast was stopped while the screw-jack and hammer Tore wax-cloth, split teak-wood, and chipped out the dammer;) Open-eyed, open-mouthed, on the napery's snow, With a crash and a thud, rolled — the Head of the Boh! BOH DA THONE 49 And gummed to the scalp was a letter which ran: — *In Fielding Force Service. 'Encampment, 'loth Jan. *Dear Sir, — I have honour to send, as you saidy 'For final approval (see under) Boh's Head; *\Vas took by myself in most bloody affair. 'By High Education brought pressure to bear. *Now violate Liberty, time being bad, *To mail V.P.P. (rupees hundred) Please add 'Whatever Your Honour can pass. Price of Blood 'Much cheap at one hundred, and children want food. 'So trusting Your Honour will somewhat retain 'True love and affection for Govt. Bullock Train, 'And show awful kindness to satisfy me, *I am, 'Graceful Master, 'Your 'H. Mukerji.' 50 THE BALLAD OF As the rabbit is drawn to the rattlesnake's power, As the smoker's eye fills at the opium hour, As a horse reaches up to the manger above, As the waiting ear yearns for the whisper of love, From the arms of the Bride, iron-visaged and slow, The Captain bent down to the Head of the Boh. And e'en as he looked on the Thing where It lay 'Twixt the winking new spoons and the napkins' array. The freed mind fled back to the long-ago days — The hand-to-hand scufifle — the smoke and the blaze — The forced march at night and the quick rush at dawn — The banjo at twilight, the burial ere morn — The stench of the marshes — the raw, piercing smell When the overhand stabbing-cut silenced the yell — The oaths of his Irish that surged when they stood Where the black crosses hung o'er the Kuttamow flood. BOH DA THONE 61 As a derelict ship drifts away with the tide The Captain went out on the Past from his Bride, Back, back, through the springs to the chill of the year, When he hunted the Boh from Maloon to Tsaleer. As the shape of a corpse dimmers up through deep water, In his eye lit the passionless passion of slaughter. And men who had fought with O'Neil for the life Had gazed on his face with less dread than his wife. For she who had held him so long could not hold him — Though a four-month Eternity should have con- trolled him — But watched the twin Terror — the head turned to head — The scowling, scarred Black, and the flushed savage Red— The spirit that changed from her knowing and flew to Some grim hidden Past she had never a clue to, 52 BOH DA THONE But It knew as It grinned, for he touched it un- fearing, And muttered aloud, *So you kept that jade ear- ring ! ' Then nodded, and kindly, as friend nods to friend, 'Old man, you fought well, but you lost in the end.' The visions departed, and Shame followed Passion, *He took what I said in this horrible fashion, W/ write to Harendra! ' With language unsainted The Captain came back to the Bride . . . who had fainted. And this is a fiction? No. Go to Simoorie And look at their baby, a twelve-month old Houri, A pert little, Irish-eyed Kathleen Mavournin — She's always about on the Mall of a mornin' — And you'll see, if her right shoulder-strap is dis- placed. This: Gules upon argent , a Boh's Head, erased! THE LAMENT OF THE BORDER CATTLE THIEF O WOE is me for the merry life I led beyond the Bar, And a treble woe for my winsome wife That weeps at Shalimar. They have taken away my long jezail, My shield and sabre fine, And heaved me into the Central Jail For lifting of the kine. The steer may low within the byre, The Jut may tend his grain, But there'll be neither loot nor fire Till I come back again. And God have mercy on the Jut When once my fetters fall, And Heaven defend the farmer's hut When I am loosed from thrall. 53 54 THE LAMENT OF THE It's woe to bend the stubborn back Above the grinching quern, It's woe to hear the leg-bar clack And jingle when I turn! But for the sorrow and the shame, The brand on me and mine, I'll pay you back in leaping flame And loss of the butchered kine. For every cow I spared before In charity set free, If I may reach my hold once more I'll reive an honest three ! For every time I raised the low That scared the dusty plain. By sword and cord, by torch and tow I'll light the land with twain! Ride hard, ride hard to Abazai, Young Sahib with the yellow hair — Lie close, lie close as khuttucks lie. Fat herds below Bonair ! BORDER CATTLE THIEF 5i The one I'll shoot at twilight tide, At dawn I'll drive the other; The black shall mourn for hoof ami hide, The white man for his brother ! 'Tis war, red war, I'll give you then, War till my sinews fail, For the wrong you have done to a chief of men And a thief of the Zukka Kheyl. And if I fall to your hand afresh I give you leave for the sin, That you cram my throat with the foul pig's flesh And swing me in the skin ! THE RHYME OF THE THREE CAPTAINS TJiis ballad appea?'s to refer to one of the exploits of tJie notorious Paid Jo7ies, the American Pirate. It is fo2(?icied on fact. , , , At the close of a winter day, Their anchors down, by London town, the Three Great Captains lay. And one was Admiral of the North from Sol way Firth to Skye, And one was Lord of the Wessex coast and all the lands thereby, And one was Master of the Thames from Limehouse to Blackwall, And he was Captain of the Fleet — the bravest of them all. Their good guns guarded their great grey sides that were thirty foot in the sheer. When there came a certain trading-brig with news of a privateer. 50 THE THREE CAPTAINS 57 Her rigging was rough with the clotted drift that drives in a Northern breeze, Her sides were clogged with the lazy weed that spawns in the Eastern seas. Light she rode in the rude tide-rip, to left and right she rolled. And the skipper sat on the scuttle-butt and stared at an empty hold. *I ha' paid Port dues for your Law,' quoth he, *and where is the Law ye boast 'If I sail unscathed from a heathen port to be robbed on a Christian coast? 'Ye have smoked the hives of the Laccadives as we burn the lice in a bunk; 'We tack not now to a Gallang prow or a plunging Pei-ho junk; 'I had no fear but the seas were clear as far as a sail might fare 'Till I met with a lime-washed Yankee brig that rode off Finisterre. 'There were canvas blinds to his bow-gun ports to screen the weight he bore 'And the signals ran for a merchantman from Sandy Hook to the Nore. 58 THE RHYME OF *He would not fly the Rovers' flag — the bloody or the black, 'But now he floated the Gridiron and now he flaunted the Jack. 'He spoke of the Law as he crimped my crew — he swore it was only a loan; 'But when I would ask for my own again, he swore it was none of my own. 'He has taken my little parrakeets that nest beneath the Line, 'He has stripped my rails of the shaddock-frails and the green unripened pine; 'He has taken my bale of dammer and spice I won beyond the seas, 'He has taken my grinning heathen gods — and what should he want o' these? 'My foremast would not mend his boom, my deck- house patch his boats; 'He has whittled the two this Yank Yahoo, to peddle for shoepeg-oats. 'I could not fight for the failing light and a rough beam-sea beside, 'But I hulled him once for a clumsy crimp and twice because he lied. THE THREE CAPTAINS 59 'Had I had guns (as I had goods) to work my Christian harm, 'I had nm him up from his quarter-deck to trade with his own yard-arm; *I had nailed his ears to my capstan-head, and ripped them off with a saw, *And soused them in the bilgewater, and served them to him raw; *I had flung him blind in a rudderless boat to rot in the rocking dark *I had towed him aft of his own craft, a bait for his brother shark; *I had lapped him round with cocoa husk, and drenched him with the oil, 'And lashed him fast to his own mast to blaze above my spoil; *I had stripped his hide for my hammock-side, and tasselled his beard i' the mesh *And spitted his crew on the live bamboo that grows through the gangrened flesh; *I had hove him down by the mangroves brown, where the mud-reef sucks and draws, 'Moored by the heel to his own keel to wait for the land -crab's claws 1 60 THE RHYME OF 'He is lazar within and lime without, ye can nose him far enow, *For he carries the taint of a musky ship — the reck of the slaver's dhow! ' The skipper looked at the tiering guns and the bulwarks tall and cold, And the Captains Three full courteously peered down at the ^^utted hole, And the Captains Three called courteously from deck to scuttle-butt: — 'Good Sir, we ha' dealt with that merchantman or ever your teeth were cut. 'Your words be words of a lawless race, and the Law it standeth thus : *He comes of a race that have never a Law, and he never has boarded us. *We ha' sold him canvas and rope and spar — we know that his price is fair, *And we know that he weeps for the lack of a Law as he rides off Finisterre. 'And since he is damned for a gallows-thief by you and better than you, 'We hold it meet that the English fleet should know that we hold him true,* THE THREE CAPTAINS 61 The skipper called to the tall taffrail: 'And what is that to me? *Did ever you hear of a privateer that rifled a Seventy-three ? *Do I loom so large from your quarter-deck that I lift like a ship o' the Line? *He has learned to run from a shotted gun and harry such craft as mine. *There is never a Law on the Cocos Keys to hold a white man in, *But we do not steal the niggers' meal, for that is a nigger's sin. 'Must he have his Law as a quid to chaw, or laid in brass on his wheel ? ^Does he steal with tears when he buccaneers? 'Fore Gad, then, why does he steal? ' The skipper bit on a deep-sea word, and the word it was not sweet. For he could see the Captains Three had signalled to the Fleet. But three and two, in white and blue, the whimpering flags began : *We have heard a tale of a foreign sail, but he is a merchantman. ' 62 THE RHYME OF The skipper peered beneath his palm and swore by the Great Horn Spoon, *'Fore Gad, the Chaplain of the Fleet would bless my picaroon ! ' By two and three the flags blew free to lash the laughing air, *We have sold our spars to the merchantman — we know that his price is fair. ' The skipper winked his Western eye, and swore by a China storm : — *They ha' rigged him a Joseph's jury-coat to keep his honour warm. * The halliards twanged against the tops, the bunting bellied broad. The skipper spat in the empty hold and mourned for a wasted cord. Masthead — masthead, the signal sped by the line o' the British craft; The skipper called to his Lascar crew, and put her about and laughed : — *It's mainsail haul, my bully boys all — we'll out to the seas again; *Ere they set us to paint their pirate saint, or scrub at his grapnel-chain THE THREE CAPTAINS 63 •It's fore-sheet free, with her head to the sea, and the swing of the unbought brine — *We'll make no sport in an English court till we come as a ship o' the Line, *TiIl we come as a ship o' the Line, my lads, of thirty foot in the sheer, 'Lifting again from the outer main with news of a privateer; * Flying his pluck at our mizzen-truck for weft of Admiralty, 'Heaving his head for our dipsy-lead in sign that we keep the sea. 'Then fore-sheet home as she lifts to the foam — we stand on the outward tack *We are paid in the coin of the white man's trade — the bezant is hard, ay, and black. 'The frigate-bird shall carry my word to the Kling and the Orang-Laut 'How a man may sail from a heathen coast to be robbed in a Christian port; 'How a man may be robbed in Christian port while Three Great Captains there 'Shall dip their flag to a slaver's rag — to show that his trade is fair I ' THE BALLAD OF THE 'CLAMPHERFJOWN It was our war-ship 'Clampherdown * Would sweep the Channel clean, Wherefore she kept her hatches close When the merry Channel chops arose. To save the bleached marine. She had one bow-gun of a hundred ton, And a great stern-gun beside; They dipped their noses deep in the sea, Thy racked their stays and staunchions free In the wash of the wind-whipped tide. It was our war-ship ' Clampherdown, ' Fell in with a cruiser light That carried the dainty Hotchkiss gun And a pair o' heels wherewith to run, From the grip of a close-fought fight, 64 i THE 'CLAMPHERDOWN' 65 She opened fire at seven miles — As ye shoot at a bobbing cork — And once she fired and twice she fired, Till the bow-gun drooped like a lily tired That lolls upon the stalk. 'Captain, the bow-gun melts apace, 'The deck-beams break below, "Twere well to rest for an hour or twain, * And botch the shattered plates again. ' And he answered, 'Make it so.' She opened fire within the mile — As ye shoot at the flying duck — And the great stern-gun shot fair and true. With the heave of the ship, to the stainless blue. And the great stern-turret stuck. 'Captain, the turret fills with steam, 'The feed-pipes burst below — 'You can hear the hiss of helpless ram, 'You can hear the twisted runners jam.' And he answered, 'Turn and go ! ' £ 66 THE BALLAD OF It was our war-ship ' Clampherdown, ' And grimly did she roll ; Swung round 19 take the cruiser's fire As the White Whale faces the Thresher's ire, When they war by the frozen Pole. 'Captain, the shells are falling fast, ^And faster still fall we; *And it is not meet for English stock, *To bide in the heart of an eight-day clock, *The death they cannot see.' 'Lie down, lie down my bold A.B., 'We drift upon her beam; 'We dare not ram for she can run; 'And dare ye fire another gun, 'And die in the peeling steam? ' It was our war-ship 'Clampherdown * That carried an armour-belt; But fifty feet at stern and bow, Lay bare as the paunch of the purser's sow, To the hail of the Nordenfeldt. THE 'CLAMPHERDOVVN' 67 'Captain, they lack us through and through; 'The chilled steel bolts are swift! *We have emptied the bunkers in open sea, 'Their shrapnel bursts where our coal should be.' And he answered, 'Let her drift.' It was our war-ship 'Clampherdown,' Swung round upon the tide, Her two dumb guns glared south and north, And the blood and the bubbling steam ran forth, And she ground the cruiser's side. 'Captain, they cry, the fight is done, 'They bid you send your sword.' And he answered, 'Grapple her stern and bow. 'They have asked for the steel. They shall have it now; 'Out cutlasses and board! ' It was our war-ship 'Clampherdown,' Spewed up four hundred men; And the scalded stokers yelped delight. As they rolled in the waist and heard the fight, Stamp o'er their steel-walled pen. 68 THE 'CLAMPHERDOWN' They cleared the cruiser end to end, From conning-tower to hold. They fought as they fought in Nelson's fleet; They were stripped to the waist, they were bare to the feet. As it was in the days of old. It was the sinking 'Clampherdown ' Heaved up her battered side — And carried a million pounds in steel, To the cod and the corpse-fed conger-eel, And the scour of the Channel tide. It was the crew of the 'Clampherdown * Stood out to sweep the sea, On a cruiser won from an ancient foe, As it was in the days of long-ago. And as it still shall be. THE BALLAD OF THE 'BOLIVAR' Seven Dieji from all the world ^ back to Docks again, Rolling down the Ratcliffe Road drunk and raising Cain : Give the girls another dri?ik fore we sign away — We that took the ^Bolivar ' out across the Bay / We put out from Sunderland loaded down with rails; We put back to Sunderland 'cause our cargo shifted; We put out from Sunderland — met the winter gales — Seven days and seven nights to the Start we drifted. Racketing her rivets loose, smoke-stack white as snow, All the coals adrift a deck, half the rails below 69 70 THE BALLAD OF Leaking like a lobster-pot, steering like a dray — Out we took the 'Bolivar,' out across the Bay! One by one the Lights came up, winked and let us by; Mile by mile we waddled on, coal and fo'c'sle short; Met a blow that laid us down, heard a bulkhead fly; Left The Wolf behind us with a two foot-list to port. Trailing like a wounded duck, working out her soul; Clanging like a smithy-shop after every roll; Just a funnel and a mast lurching through the spray — So we threshed the * Bolivar ' out across the Bay ! Felt her hog and felt her sag, betted when she'd break; Wondered every time she raced if she'd stand the shock; i THE 'BOLIVAR' 71 Heard the seas like drunken men pounding at her strake; Hoped the Lord 'ud keep his thumb on the plummer-block. Banged against the iron decks, bilges choked with coal; Flayed and frozen foot and hand, sick of heart and soul; 'Last we prayed she'd buck herself into Judg- ment Day — Hi! we cursed the 'Bolivar' knocking round the Bay ! Oh ! her nose flung up to sky, groaning to be still — Up and down and back we went, never time for breath; Then the money paid at Lloyd's caught her by the heel, And the stars ran round and round dancin' at our death. Aching for an hour's sleep, dozing off between; Heard the rotten rivets draw when she took it greenj 72 THE BALLAD UF Watched the compass chase its tail like a cat at play- That was on the 'Bolivar,' south across the Bay. Once we saw between the squalls, lyin' head to swell — Mad with work and weariness, wishin' they was we — Some damned Liner's lights go by like a grand hotel; Cheered her from the 'Bolivar,' swampin' in the sea. Then a greyback cleared us out, then the skipper laughed; *Boys, the wheel has gone to Hell — rig the winches aft ! 'Yoke the kicking rudder-head — get her under way ! ' So we steered her, pulley-haul, out across the Bay! Just a pack o' rotten plates puttied up with tar, In we came, an' time enough 'cross Bilbao Bar. THE * BOLIVAR' 73 Overloaded, undermanned, meant to founder, we Euchred God Almighty's storm, bluffed the Eternal Sea! Seven tnenfrom all the world , back to town again, Rollin' down the Ratcliffe Road drunk and raistfig Gain : Seven men from out of Hell. Ain't the owners gay^ ' Cause we took the ''Bolivar ' safe across the Bay ? THE LOST LEGION There's a Legion that never was 'listed, That carries no colours or crest, But, split in a thousand detachments. Is breaking the road for the rest. Our fathers they left us their blessing — They taught us, and groomed us, and crammed ; But we've shaken the Clubs and the Messes To go and find out and be damned, Dear boys ! To go and get shot and be damned. So some of us chevy the slaver. And some of us cherish the black. And some of us hunt on the Oil Coast, And some on — the Wallaby track : And some of us drift to Sarawak, And some of us drift up The Fly, And some share our tucker with tigers. And some with the gentle Masai, Dear boys ! Take tea with the giddy Masai. 74 Copyright, 1893, by Macmillan & Co. THE LOST LEGION 75 We've painted The Islands vermilion, We've pearled on half-shares in the Bay, We've shouted on seven-ounce nuggets, We've starved on a Kanaka's pay. We've laughed at the world as we found it, — Its women and cities and men — From Say Yid Burgash in a tantrum To the smoke- reddened eyes of Loben, Dear boys ! We've a little account with Loben. We opened the Chinaman's oil-well, But the dynamite didn't agree, And the people got up and fan-kwaied us, And we ran from Ichang to the sea. Yes, somehow and somewhere and always We were first when the trouble began. From a lottery-row in Manila To an I. D. B. race on the Pan, Dear boys ! With the Mounted Police on the Pan. We preach in advance of the Army, We skirmish ahead of the Church, With never a gunboat to help us When we're scuppered and left in the lurch. 76 THE LOST LEGION But we know as the cartridges finish And we're filed on our last little shelves, That the Legion that never was 'listed Will send us as good as ourselves, (Good men !) Five hundred as good as ourselves. Then a health (we must drink it in whispers), To our wholly unauthorised horde — To the line of our dusty foreloopers, The Gentlemen Rovers abroad. Yes, a health to ourselves ere we scatter. For the steamer won't wait for the train, And the Legion that never was 'listed Goes back into quarters again. 'Regards ! Goes back under canvas again. Hurrah ! The swag and the billy again. Here's how ! The trail and the packhorse again. Salue ! The trek and the lager again. THE SACRIFICE OF ER-HEB Er-Heb beyond the Hills of Ao-Safai Bears witness to the truth, and Ao-Safai Hath told the men of Gorukh. Thence the tale Conies westward o^er the peaks to India. The story of Bisesa, Armod's child, — A maiden plighted to the Chief in War, The Man of Sixty Spears who held the Pass That leads to Thibet, but to-day is gone To seek his comfort of the God called Biidh The Silent — showing how the Sickness ceased Because of her who died to save the tribe. Taman is One and greater than us all, Taman is One and greater than all Gods: Taman is Two in One and rides the sky, Cur^-ed like a stallion's croup, from dusk to dawTi, And drums upon it with his heels, whereby Is bred the neighing thunder in the hills. Copyright, 1892, by Macmillan & Co. 77 78 THE SACRIFICE OF ER-HEB This is Taman, the God of all Er-Heb, Who was before all Gods, and made all Gods, And presently will break the Gods he made, And step upon the Earth to govern men Who give him milk-dry ewes and cheat his Priests, Or leave his shrine unlighted — as Er-Heb Left it unlighted and forgot Taman, When all the Valley followed after Kysh And Yabosh, little Gods but very wise, And from the sky Taman beheld their sin. He sent the Sickness out upon the hills The Red Horse Sickness with the iron hooves, To turn the Valley to Taman again. And the Red Horse snuffed thrice into the wind, The naked wind that had no fear of him; And the Red Horse stamped thrice upon the snow, The naked snow that had no fear of him; And the Red Horse went out across the rocks The ringing rocks that had no fear of him; And downward, where the lean birch meets the snow THE SACRIFICE OF ER-HEB 79 And downward, where the grey pine meets the birch, And downward, where the dwarf oak meets the pine, Till at his feet our cup-like pastures lay. That night, the slow mists of the evening dropped, Dropped as a cloth upon a dead man's face, And weltered in the valley, bluish-white Like water very silent — spread abroad, Like water very silent, from the Shrine Unlighted of Taman to where the stream Is dammed to fill our cattle-troughs — sent up White waves that rocked and heaved and then were still. Till all the Valley glittered like a marsh. Beneath the moonlight, filled with sluggish mist Knee-deep, so that men waded as they walked. That night, the Red Horse grazed above the Dam, Beyond the cattle-troughs. Men heard him feed. And those that heard him sickened where they lay. Thus came the sickness to Er-Heb, and slew Ten men, strong men, and of the women four; And the Red Horse went hillward with the dawn, But near the cattle-troughs his hoof-prints lay. 80 THE SACRIFICE OF ER-HEB That night, the slow mists of the evening dropped, Dropped as a cloth upon the dead, but rose A little higher, to a young girl's height; Till all the valley glittered like a lake, Beneath the moonlight, filled with sluggish mist. That night, the Red Horse grazed beyond the Dam A stone's throw from the troughs. Men heard hira feed. And those that heard him sickened where they lay. Thus came the sickness to Er-Heb, and slew Of men a score, and of the women eight, And of the children two. Because the road To Gorukh was a road of enemies. And Ao-Safai was blocked with early snow. We could not flee from out the Valley. Death Smote at us in a slaughter-pen, and Kysh Was mute as Yabosh, though the goats were slain; And the Red Horse grazed nightly by the stream. And later, outward, towards the Unlighted Shrine, And those that heard him sickened where they lay. THE SACRIFICE OF ER-IIEB 81 Then said Bisesa to the Priests at dusk, When the white mist rose up breast-high and choked The voices in the houses of the dead: — *Yabosh and Kysh avail not. If the Horse 'Reach the Unlighted Shrine we surely die. *Ye have forgotten of all Gods the Chief *Taman ! * Here rolled the thunder through the Hill. And Yabosh shook upon his pedestal. *Ye have forgotten of all Gods the chief *Too long.' And all were dumb save one who cried On Yabosh with the Sapphire 'twixt His knees But found no answer in the smoky roof And, being smitten of the sickness died Before the altar of the Sapphire Shrine. Then said Bisesa: — 'I am near to Death, *And have the Wisdom of the Grave for gift 'To bear me on the path my feet must tread. 'If there be wealth on earth, then I am rich, 'For Armod is the first of all Er-Heb; 'If there be beauty on the earth,' — her eyes Dropped for a moment to the temple floor, — 'Ye know that. I am fair. If there be Love, *Ye know that love is mine.' The Chief in War, F 82 THE SACRIFICE OF ER-HEB The Man of Sixty Spears, broke from the press, And would have clasped her, but the Priests with- stood. Saying: — *She has a message from Taman.* Then said Bisesa : — ' By my wealth and love 'And beauty, I am chosen of the God *Taman.' Here rolled the thunder through the Hills And Kysh fell forward on the Mound of Skulls. In darkness and before our Priests, the maid Between the altars, cast her bracelets down. Therewith the heavy earrings Armod made. When he was young, out of the water-gold Of Gorukh — threw the breast-plate thick with jade Upon the turquoise anklets — put aside The bands of silver on her brow and neck; And as the trinkets tinkled on the stones, The Thunder of Taman lowed like a bull. Then said Bisesa stretching out her hands. As one in darkness fearing Devils: — 'Help! *0 Priests, I am a woman very weak. THE SACRIFICE OF ER-HEB 83 *And who am T to know the will of Gods? *Taman hath called me — whither shall I go? ' The Chief in War, the Man of Sixty Spears Howled in his torment fettered by the Priests But dared not come to her to drag her forth, And dared not lift his spear against the Priests. Then all men wept. There was a Priest of Kysh Bent with a hundred winters, hairless, blind And taloned as the great Snow-Eagle is. His seat was nearest to the altar-fires,. And he was counted dumb among the Priests. But, whether Kysh decreed, or from Taman The impotent tongue found utterance we know As little as the bats beneath the eaves. He cried so that they heard who stood without : — 'To the Unlighted Shrine ! ' and crept aside Into the shadow of his fallen God And whimpered, and Bisesa went her way. That night, the slow mists of the evening dropped. Dropped as a cloth upon the dead, and rose Above the roofs, and by the Unlighted Shrine 84 THE SACRIFICE OF ER-HEB Lay as the slimy water of the troughs When murrain thins the cattle of Er-Heb : And through the mist men heard the Red Horse feed. In Armod's house they burned Bisesa's dower, And killed her black bull Tor, and broke her wheel, And loosed her hair, as for the marriage-feast With cries more loud than mourning for the dead. Across the fields, from Armod's dwelling-place, We heard Bisesa weeping where she passed To seek the Unlighted Shrine; the Red Horse neighed And followed her, and on the river-mint His hooves struck dead and heavy in our ears. Out of the mists of evening, as the star Of Ao-Safai climbs through the black snow-blur To show the Pass is clear, Bisesa stepped Upon the great grey slope of mortised stone. The Causeway of Taman. The Red Horse neighed Behind her to the Unlighted Shrine — then fled North to the Mountain where his stable lies. THE SACRIFICE OF ER-HEB 85 They know who dared the anger of Taman, And watched that night above the clinging mists, Far up the hill, Bisesa's passing in. She set her hand upon the carven door. Fouled by a myriad bats, and black with time. Whereon is graved the Glory of Taman In letters older than the Ao-Safai ; And twice she turned aside and twice she wept, Cast down upon the threshold, clamouring For him she loved — the Man of Sixty Spears, And for her father, — and the black bull Tor Hers and her pride. Yea, twice she turned away Before the awful darkness of the door, And the great horror of the Wall of Man Where Man is made the plaything of Taman, An Eyeless Face that waits above and laughs. But the third time she cried and put her palms Against the hewn stone leaves, and prayed Taman To spare Er-Heb and take her life for price. They know who watched, the doors were rent apart And closed upon Bisesa, and the rain 86 THE SACRIFICE OF ER-HEB Broke like a flood across the Valley, washed The mist away; but louder than the rain The thunder of Taman filled men with fear. Some say that from the Unlighted Shrine she cried For succour, very pitifully, thrice, And others that she sang and had no fear. And some that there was neither song nor cry, But only thunder and the lashing rain. Howbeit, in the morning, men rose up, Perplexed with horror, crowding to the Shrine, And when Er-Heb was gathered at the doors The Priests made lamentation and passed in To a strange Temple and a God they feared But knew not. From the crevices the grass Had thrust the altar-slabs apart, the walls Were grey with stains unclean, the roof -beams swelled With many-coloured growth of rottenness, And lichen veiled the Image of Taman In leprosy. 'J'he Basin of the Blood THE SACRIFICE OF ER-HEB 87 Above the altar held the morning sun A winking ruby on its heart; below, Face hid in hands, the maid Bisesa lay. Er-Heb beyond the Hills of Ao-Safai Bears witness to the truth, and Ao-Safai Hath told the men of Goritkh. TJience the tale Comes westward o^er the peaks to India, THE DOVE OF DACCA The freed dove flew to the Rajah's tower — Fled from the slaughter of Moslem kings — And the thorns have covered the city of Gaur. Dove — dove — oh, homing dove ! Little white traitor, with woe on thy wings ! The Rajah of Dacca rode under the wall ; He set in his bosom a dove of flight — " If she return, be sure that I fall." Dove — dove — oh, homing dove ! Pressed to his heart in the thick of the fight. " Fire the palace, the fort, and the keep — Leave to the foeman no spoil at all. In the flame of the palace lie down and sleep If the dove, if the dove — if the homing dove Come and alone to the palace wall." The Kings of the North they were scattered abroad- The Rajah of Dacca he slew them all. Hot from slaughter he stooped at the ford. And th» dove — the dove — oh, the homing dove ! She thought of her cote on the palace wall. 88 Copyright, 1893, by Macmillan & Co. THE DOVE OF DACCA 89 She opened her wings and she flew away — Fluttered away beyond recall ; She came to the palace at break of day. Dove — dove — oh, homing dove ! Flying so fast for a kingdom's fall. The Queens of Dacca they slept in flame — Slept in the flame of the palace old — To save their honour from Moslem shame. And the dove — the dove — oh, the homing dove ! She cooed to her young where the smoke-cloud rolled. The Rajah of Dacca rode far and fleet, Followed as fast as a horse could fly, He came and the palace was black at his feet ; And the dove — the dove — the homing dove, Circled alone in the stainless sky. So the dove flew to the Rajah's tower — Fled from the slaughter of Moslem kings ; So the thorns covered the city of Gaur, And Dacca was lost for a white dove's wings. Dove — dove — oh, homing dove, Dacca is lost from the roll of the kings ! 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 armoury 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 At the Tavern long ago. Tell me, do our masters know, Loosing blindly as they fly, Old men love while young men die? 90 AN ANSWER A Rose, in tatters on the garden path, Cried out to God t*nd murmured 'gainst His wrath, Because a sudden wind at twilight's hush Had snapped her stem alone of all the bush. And God, who hears both sun-dried dust and sun. Made answer whispering to that luckless one, " Sister, in that thou sayest We did not well — What voices heardst thou when thy petals fell?" And the Rose answered, " In that evil hour A voice said, ' Father, wherefore falls the flower ? For lo, the very gossamers are still.' And a voice answered, ' Son, by Allah's will ! ' " Then softly as a rain-mist on the sward, Came to the Rose the Answer of the Lord : " Sister, before We smote the dark in twain, Ere yet the stars saw one another plain, Time, tide, and space, We bound unto the task That thou shouldst fall, and such an one should ask." Whereat the withered flower, all content. Died as they die whose days are innocent ; While he who questioned why the flower fell Caught hold of God and saved his soul from Hell. Copyright, 1893, by Macmillan & Co. 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 mother laughed at all. ' I have lost my man in the sea, And the child is dead. Be still,' she said, 'What more can ye do to me? ' The widow watched the dead, And the candle guttered low. And she tried to sing the Passing Song That bids the poor soul go. 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. ' 92 THE GIFT OF THE SEA 98 Then came a cry from the sea, But the sea-rime blinded the glass, And * Heard ye nothing, mother? ' she said, "lis 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? ' *0 feet I have held in my hand, *0 hands at my heart to catch, 'How should they know the road to go, 'And how should they lift the latch?' 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. 94 THE GIFT OF THE SEA 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, *0r the wail of the wind-blown gull? ' 'The terns are blov/n inland, 'The grey gull follows the plough. "Twas never a bird, the voice I heard, 'O mother, I hear it now 1 ' *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 put 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. THE GIFT OF THE SEA 95 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. 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! ' EVARRA AND HIS GODS Read here, This is the story of Evarra — 7nati — 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 worshipped by the King; but, drunk with pride. Because the city bowed to him for God, He wrote above the shrine : * Thus Gods arc made, ^ And whoso makes them othenvise shall die' And all the city praised him. . . . Then he died. 96 EVARRA AND HIS GODS 97 Read here the story of Evarra — man — Maker of Gods in lands beyond the sea. Because the 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 hewed the living rock, with sweat and tears. And reared a God against the morning-gold, A terror in the sunshine, seen afar. And worshipped by the King; but, drunk with pride, Because the city fawned to bring him back. He carved upon the plinth : ' Thus Gods are madej *And whoso makes them otherwise shall die.' 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 he lived among a 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 G 98 EVARRA AND HIS GODS Above its brows for eyes, 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. Wherefore, because the shoutings drove him mad. He scratched upon that log : ' Thus Gods are made^ *And whoso makes them otherwise shall die.'* 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 one hair's-breadth from the pulse's path, And chafe his brain, Evarra mowed alone, Rag-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 labour. Out of dung and horns Dropped in the mire he made a monstrous God, Abhorrent, shapeless, crowned with plaintain tufts, And when the cattle lowed at twilight time, He dreamed it was the clamour of lost crowds, EVARRA AND HIS GODS 99 And howled among the beasts: ^ Thus Gods are made, * And whoso makes fhet?t 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 marvelled, 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, '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 Evarra — man — Maker of Gods in lands beyond the sea. 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 mould; 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 reviev/; 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. 100 THE CONUNDRUM 101 They buildcd 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 at 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 pitiful land, and the poor Red 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 as old as the Eden Tree — and new as the new-cut tooth — For each man knov/s ere his lip-thatch grows he is master of Art and Truth; 102 THE CONUNDRUM OF 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 yelk of an addled egg, We know that the tail must wag the dog, for 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 mould — They scratch with their pens in the mould of their graves, and the ink and the anguish start, For the Devil mutters behind the leaves: 'It's pretty, but is it Art?' THE WORKSHOPS 103 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 favour of God we might know as much — • as our father Adani knew. IN THE NEOLITHIC AGE In the Neolithic Age savage warfare did I wage For food and fame and two-toed horses' pelt ; I was singer to my clan in that dim, red Dawn of Man, And I sang of all we fought and feared and felt. Yea, I sang as now I sing, when the Prehistoric spring Made the piled Biscayan ice-pack spht and shove, And the troll and gnome and dwerg, and the Gods of CHff and Berg Were about me and beneath me and above. But a rival of Solutr^ told the tribe my style was oiiirc — By a hammer, grooved of dolomite, he fell. And I left my views on Art, barbed and tanged, be- neath the heart Of a mammothistic etcher at Grenelle. Then I stripped them, scalp from skull, and my hunt- ing dogs fed full, And their teeth I threaded neady on a thong ; 104 Copyright, 1893, by Macmillan & Co. IN THE NEOLITHIC AGE 105 And I wiped my mouth and said, " It is well that they are dead, For I know my work is right and theirs was wrong." But my Totem saw the shame ; from his ridgepole shrine he came, And he told me in a vision of the night : — " There are nine and sixty ways of constructing tribal lays, And every single one of them is right ! " Then the silence closed upon me till They put new clothing on me Of whiter, weaker flesh and bone more frail ; And I stepped beneath Time's finger once again a tribal singer And a minor poet certified by Tr — 1. Still they skirmish to and fro, men my messmates on the snow. When we headed off the aurochs turn for turn ; When the rich Allobiogenses never kept amanuenses, And our only plots were piled in lakes at Berne. 106 IN THE NEOLITHIC AGE Still a cultured Christian age sees us scuffle, squeak, and rage, Still we pinch and slap and jabber — scratch and dirk; Still we let our business slide — as we dropped the half- dressed hide — To show a fellow-savage how to work. Still the world is wondrous large, — seven seas from marge to marge, — And it holds a vast of various kinds of man ; And the wildest dreams of Kew are the facts of Khat- mandhu And the crimes of Clapham chaste in Martaban. Here's my wisdom for your use, as I learned it when the moose And the reindeer roared where Paris roars to-night : There are nine and sixty ways of constructing tribal lays. And — every — single — one — of — them — is — right. THE LEGEND OF EVIL This is the sorrowful story Told when the twilight fails And the monkeys walk together Holding each other's tails. *Our fathers lived in the forest, 'Foolish people were they, 'They went down to the cornland *To teach the farmers to play. 'Our fathers frisked in the millet, 'Our fathers skipped in the wheat, *Our fathers hung from the branches, 'Our fathers danced in the street. 'Then came the terrible farmers, 'Nothing of play they knew, 'Only . . . they caught our fathers 'And set them to labour too ! Copyright, 1892, by Macmillan & Co. 107 108 THE LEGEND OF EVIL 'Set them to work in the cornland *With ploughs and sickles and flails, *Put them in mud-walled prisons *And — cut off their beautiful tails! 'Now, we can watch our fathers, 'Sullen and bowed and old, 'Stooping over the millet, 'Sharing the silly mould. 'Driving a foolish furrow, 'Mending a muddy yoke, 'Sleeping in mud-walled prisons, 'Steeping their food in smoke. 'We may not speak to our fathers, 'For if the farmers knew 'They would come up to the forest 'And set us to labour too!' This is the horrible story Told as the twilight fails And the monkeys walk together Holding each other's tails. THE LEGEND OF EVIL 109 II *TwAS when the rain fell steady an' the Ark was pitched an' ready, That Noah got his orders for to take the bastes below; He dragged them all together by the horn an' hide an' feather, An' all excipt the Donkey was agreeable to go. Thin Noah spoke him fairly, thin talked to him sevarely. An' thin he cursed him squarely to the glory av the Lord: *Divil take the ass that bred you, and the greater ass that fed you — Divil go wid you, ye spalpeen ! ' an' the Donkey went aboard. But the wind was always failin', an' 'twas most onaisy sailin', An' the ladies in the cabin couldn't stand the stable air; 110 THE LEGEND OF EVIL An' the bastes betwuxt the hatches, they tuk an' died in batches, Till Noah said: 'There's wan av us that hasn't paid his fare ! ' For he heard a flusteration wid the bastes av all creation — The trumpetin' av elephints an' bellowin' av whales; An' he saw forninst the windy whin he wint to stop the shindy The Divil wid a stable-fork bedivillin' their tails. The Divil cursed outrageous, but Noah said um- brageous : *To what am I indebted for this tenant-right invasion ? ' An' the Divil gave for answer: 'Evict me if you can, sir, 'For I came in wid the Donkey — on Your Honour's invitation.' THE ENGLISH FLAG Above the portico a flag-staff, bear'ing the Union Jack, remained flutter itig in the flames for souic time, but ulti- mately when it fell the crowds rent the air with shouts, and seemed to see significance in the incident. — Daily Papers. Winds of the World, give answer? They are whimpering to and fro — And what should they know of England who only England know? — The poor little street-bred people that vapour and fume and brag, They are lifting their heads in the stillness to yelp at the English Flag! Must we borrow a clout from the Boer — to plaster anew with dirt? An Irish liar's bandage, or an English coward's shirt? We may not speak of England; her Flag's to sell or share. What is the Flag of England? Winds of the World, declare! Ill 112 THE ENGLISH FLAG The North Wind blew: — 'From Bergen my steel- shod van-guards go; *I chase your lazy whalers home from the Disko floe; 'By the great North Lights above me I work the will of God, 'That the liner spHts on the ice-field or the Dogger fills with cod. *I barred my gates with iron, I shuttered my doors with flame, 'Because to force my ramparts your nutshell navies came; 'I took the sun from their presence, I cut them down v^ith my blast, *And they died, but the Flag of England blew free ere the spirit passed. *The lean white bear hath seen it in the long, long Arctic night, 'The musk-ox knows the standard that flouts the Northern Light: 'What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my bergs to dare, 'Ye have but my drifts to conquer. Go forth, fur it is there I ' THE ENGLISH FLAG 113 The South Wind sighed: — 'From The Virgins my mid-sea course was ta'en *Over a thousand islands lost in an idle main, 'Where the sea-egg flames on the coral and the long-backed breakers croon 'Their endless ocean legends to the lazy, locked lagoon. 'Strayed amid lonely islets, mazed amid outer keys, 'I waked the palms to laughter — I tossed the scud in the breeze — 'Never was isle so little, never was sea so lone, 'But over the scud and the palm-trees an English flag was flown. *I have wrenched it free from the halliard to hang for a wisp on the Horn; 'I have chased it north to the Lizard — ribboned and rolled and torn; 'I have spread its fold o'er the dying, adrift in a hopeless sea; *I have hurled it swift on the slaver, and seen the slave set free. H 114 THE ENGLISH FLAG *My basking simfish know it, and wheeling albatross, 'Where the lone wave fills with fire beneath the Southern Cross. 'What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my reefs to dare, 'Ye have but my seas to furrow. Go forth, for it is there ! ' The East Wind roared: — 'From the Kuriles, the Bitter Seas, I come, 'And me men call the Home-Wind, for I bring the English home. 'Look — look well to your shipping! By the breath of my mad typhoon 'I swept your close-packed Praya and beached your best at Kowloon ! 'The reeling junks behind me and the racing seas before, 'I raped your richest roadstead — I plundered Singa- pore! 'I set my hand on the Hoogli; as a hooded snake she rose, 'And I flung your stoutest steamers to roost with the startled crows. THE ENGLISH FLAG 115 * Never the lotos closes, never the wild-fowl wake, *But a soul goes out on the East Wind that died for England's sake — *Man or woman or suckling, mother or bride or maid — 'Because on the bones of the English the English Elag is stayed. *The desert-dust hath dimmed it, the flying wild-ass knows 'The scared white leopard winds it across the taint- less snows. *What is the Flag of England? Ve have but my sun to dare, *Ye have but my sands to travel. Go forth, for it is there ! ' The West Wind called : — * In squadrons the thought- less galleons fly 'That bear the wheat and cattle lest street-bred people die. 'They make my might their porter, they make my house their path, 'Till I loose my neck from their rudder and whelm them all in my wrath. 116 THE ENGLISH FLAG 'I draw the gliding fog-bank as a snake is drawn from tlie hole; 'They bellow one to the other, the frighted ship- bells toll, *For day is a drifting terror till I raise the shroud with my breath, *And they see strange bows above them and the two go locked to death. 'But whether in calm or wrack-wreath, whether by dark or day, *I heave them whole to the conger or rip their plates away, * First of the scattered legions, under a shrieking sky, 'Dipping between the rollers, the English Flag goes by. 'The dead dumb fog hath wrapped it — the frozen dews have kissed — *The naked stars have seen it, a fellow-star in the mist. *What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my breath to dare, •Ye have but my waves to conquer. Go forth, for it is there ! ' 'CLEARED ' (in memory of a commission) Help for a patriot distressed, a spotless spirit hurt, Help for an honourable clan sore trampled in the dirt! From Queenstown Bay to Donegal, O listen to my song, The honourable gentlemen have suffered grievous wrong. Their noble names were mentioned — O the burning black disgrace ! — By a brutal Saxon paper in an Irish shooting- case; They sat upon it for a year, then steeled their heart to brave it, And 'coruscating innocence ' the learned Judges gave it. 117 118 'CLEARED' Bear witness, Heaven, of that grim crime beneath the surgeon's knife, The honourable gentleman deplored the loss of life; Bear witness of those chanting choirs that burk and shirk and snigger. No man laid hand upon the knife or finger to the trigger ! Cleared in the face of all mankind beneath the winking skies. Like phoenixes from Phoenix Park (and what lay there) they rise ! Go shout it to the emerald seas — give word to Erin now. Her honourable gentlemen are cleared — and this is how : — They only paid the Moonlighter his cattle-hocking price, They only helped the murderer with council's best advice, 'CLEARED' 119 But — sure it keeps their honour white — the learncfl Court believes They never gave a piece of plate to murderers and thieves. They never told the ramping crowd to card a woman's hide, They never marked a man for death — what fault of theirs he died? — They only said 'intimidate,' and talked and went away — By God, the boys that did the work were braver men than they ! Their sin it was that fed the fire — small blame to them that heard — The 'bhoys ' get drunk on rhetoric, and madden. at the word — They knew whom they were talking at, if they were Irish too, The gentlemen that lied in Court, they knew and well they knew. 120 'CLEARED' They only took the Judas-gold from Fenians out of jail, They only fawned for dollars on the blood-dyed Clan-na-Gael. If black is black or white is white, in black and white it's down. They're only traitors to the Queen and rebels to the Crown. * Cleared, ' honourable gentlemen. Be thankful it's no more : The widow's curse is on your house, the dead are at your door. On you the shame of open shame, on you from North to South The hand of every honest man flat-heeled across your mouth. *Less black than we were painted'? — Faith, no word of black was said; The lightest touch was human blood, and that, ye know, runs red. 'CLEARED' 121 It's sticking to your fist to-day for all your sneer and scoff, And by the Judge's well-weighed word you cannot wipe it off. Hold up those hands of innocence — go, scare your sheep together. The blundering, tripping tups that bleat behind the old bell-wether; And if they snuff the taint and break to find another pen. Tell them it's tar that glistens so, and daub them yours again ! 'The charge is old ' ? — As old as Cain — as fresh as yesterday; Old as the Ten Commandments, have ye talked those laws away? If words are words, or death is death, or powder sends the ball, You spoke the words that sped the shot — the curse be on you all. 122 ' CLEARED ' 'Our friends believe'? Of course they do — as sheltered women may; But have they seen the shrieking soul ripped from the quivering clay? They! — If their own front door is shut, they'll swear the whole world's warm; What do they know of dread of death or hanging fear of harm? The secret half a county keeps, the whisper in the lane, The shriek that tells the shot went home behind the broken pane. The dry blood crisping in the sun that scares the honest bees. And shows the 'bhoys ' have heard your talk — what do they know of these ? But you — you know — ay, ten times more; the secrets of the dead. Black terror on the country-side by word and whisper bred, 'CLEARED' 123 The mangled stallion's scream at night, the tail- cropped heifer's low. Who set the whisper going first? You know, and well you know ! My soul! I'd sooner lie in jail for murder plain and straight, Pure crime I'd done with my own hand for money, lust, or hate, Than take a seat in Parliament by fellow-felons cheered, While one of those 'not provens ' proved me cleared as you are cleared. Cleared — you that 'lost' the League accounts — go, guard our honour still. Go, help to make our country's laws that broke God's law at will — One hand stuck out behind the back, to signal 'strike again '; The other on your dress-shirt-front to show your heart is clane. 124 « CLEARED ' If black is black or white is white, in black and white it's down, You're only traitors to the Queen and rebels to the Crown. If print is print or words are words, the learned Court perpends : We are not ruled by murderers, but only — by their friends. AN IMPERIAL RESCRIPT Now this is the tale of the Council the German Kaiser decreed, To ease the strong of their burden, to help the weak in their need He sent a word to the peoples, who struggle, and pant, and sweat. That the straw might be counted fairly and the tally of bricks be set. The Lords of Their Hands assembled; from the East and the West they drew — Baltimore, Lille, and Essen, Brummagem, Clyde, and Crewe. And some were black from the furnace, and some were brown from the soil. And some were blue from the dye-vat; but all were wearied of toil. 125 126 AN IMPERIAL RESCRIPT And the young King said 'I have found it, the road to the rest ye seek 'The strong shall wait for the weary, the hale shall halt for the weak; 'With the even tramp of an army where no man breaks from the line, 'Ye shall march to peace and plenty in the bond of brotherhood — sign ! ' The paper lay on the table, the strong heads bowed thereby, And a wail went up from the peoples: 'x\y, sign — give rest, for we die ! ' A hand was stretched to the goose-quill, a fist was cramped to scrawl. When — the laugh of a blue-eyed maiden ran clear through the council-hall. And each one heard Her laughing as each one saw Her plain — Saidie, Mimi, or Olga, Gretchen, or Mary Jane. And the Spirit of Man that is in Him to the light of the vision woke; And the men drew back from the paper, as a Yankee delegate spoke : — AN IMPERIAL RESCRIPT 127 'There's a girl in Jersey City who works on the telephone; *We're going to hitch our horses and dig for a house of our own, 'With gas and water connections, and steam-heat through to the top; 'And,W. Hohenzollern,! guess I shall work till I drop.' And an English delegate thundered: 'The weak an' the lame be blowed ! 'I've a berth in the Sou '-West workshops, a home in the Wandsworth Road; 'And till the 'sociation has footed my buryin' bill, 'I work for the kids an' the missus. Pull up! I'll be damned if I will ! ' And over the German benches the bearded whisper ran : — 'Lager, der girls und der dollars, dey makes or dey breaks a man. 'If Schmitt haf collared der dollars, he collars der girl deremit; 'But if Schmitt bust in der pizness, we collars der girl from Schmitt.' 128 AN IMPERIAL RESCRIPT They passed one resolution: 'Your sub-committee believe *You can lighten the curse of Adam when you've lightened the curse of Eve. 'But till we are built like angels — with hammer and chisel and pen, *We will work for ourself and a woman, for ever and ever. Amen.' Now this is the tale of the Council the German Kaiser held — The day that they razored the Grindstone, the day that the Cat was belled. The day of the Figs from Thistles, the day of the Twisted Sands, The day that the laugh of a maiden made light of the Lords of Their Hands. TOMLINSON Now Tomlinson gave up the ghost in his house in Berkeley Square, And a Spirit came to his bedside and gripped him by the hair — A Spirit gripped him by the hair and carried him far away, Till he heard as the roar of a rain-fed ford the roar of the Milky Way, Till he heard the roar of the Milky Way die down and drone and cease, And they came to the Gate within the Wall where Peter holds the keys. * Stand up, stand up now, Tomlinson, and answer loud and high *The good that ye did for the sake of men or ever ye came to die — *The good that ye did for the sake of men in little earth so lone ! ' 1 129 130 TOMLINSON And the naked soul of Tomlinson grew white as a rain-washed bone. *0, I have a friend on earth,' he said, 'that was my priest and guide, 'And well would he answer all for me if he were by my side.' — 'For that ye strove in neighbour-love it shall be written fair, *But now ye wait at Heaven's Gate and not in Berkel^ Square : 'Though we called your friend from his bed this night, he could not speak for you, 'For the race is run by one and one and never by two and two.' Then Tomlinson looked up and down, and little gain was there. For the naked stars grinned overhead, and he saw that his soul was bare : The Wind that blows between the worlds, it cut him like a knife. And Tomlinson took up his tale and spoke of his good in life. 'This I have read in a book,' he said, 'and that was told to me, TOMLINSON 131 *And this I have thought that another man thought of a Prince in Muscovy.* The good souls flocked like homing doves and bade him clear the path, And Peter twilled the jangiing keys in weariness and wrath. *Ye have read, ye have heard, ye have thought,' he said, 'and the tale is yet to run: 'By the worth of the body that once ye had, give answer — what ha' ye done ? ' Then Tomlinson looked back and forth, and little good it bore, For the Darkness stayed at his shoulder-blade and Heaven's Gate before: *0h, this I have felt, and th's I have guessed, and this X have heard men say, *And this they wrote that another man wrote of a carl in Norroway.' *Ye have read, ye have felt, ye have guessed, good lack! Ye have hampered Heaven's Gate; 'There's little room between the stars in idleness to prate ! *0h, none may reach by hired speech of neighbour, priest, and kin, 132 TOiMLINSON 'Through borrowed deed to God's good meed that lies so fair within; *Get hence, get hence to the Lord of Wrong, for doom has yet to run, 'And . . . the faith that ye share with Berkeley Square uphold you, Tomlinson ! ' The Spirit gripped him by the hair, and sun by sun they fell Till they came to the belt of Naughty Stars that rim the mouth of Hell : The first are red with pride and wrath, the next are white with pain. But the third are black with clinkered sin that cannot burn again : They may hold their path, they may leave their path, with never a soul to mark. They may burn or freeze, but they must not cease in the Scorn of the Outer Dark. The Wind that blows between the worlds, it nipped him to the bone. And he yearned to the flare of Hell-gate there as the light of his own hearth-stone. TOM LIN SON 133 The Devil he sat behind the bars, where the desperate legions drew, But he caught the hasting Tomlinson and would not let him through. *Wot ye the price of good pit-coal that I must pay? ' said he, 'That ye rank yoursel' so fit for Hell and ask no leave of me? 'I am all o'er-sib to Adam's breed that ye should give me scorn, 'For I strove with God for your First Father the day that he was born. *Sit down, sit down upon the slag, and answer loud and high *The harm that ye did to the Sons of Men or ever you came to die.' And Tomlinson looked up and up, and saw against the night The belly of a tortured star blood-red in Hell- Mouth light; And Tomlinson looked down and down, and saw beneath his feet The frontlet of a tortured star milk-white in Hell- Mouth heat. 134 TOMLINSON *0h, 1 had a love on earth,' said he, 'that kissed me to my fall, 'And if ye would call my love to me I know she would answer all. ' — 'AH that ye did in love forbid it shall be written fair, 'But now ye wait at Hell-Mouth Gate and not in Berkeley Square : 'Though we whistled your love from her bed to-night, I trow she would not run, 'For the sin ye do by two and two ye must pay for one by one ! * The Wind that blows between the worlds, it cut him like a knife, And Tomlinson took up the tale and spoke of his sin in life: 'Once I ha' laughed at the power of Love and twice at the grip of the Grave, 'And thrice I ha' patted my God on the head that men might call me brave.' The Devil he blew on a brandered soul and set it aside to cool : • 'Do ye think I would waste my good pit-coal on the hide of a brain-sick fool? TOMLINSON 136 *I see no worth in the hobnailed mirth or the jolt- head jest ye did *That I should waken my gentlemen that are sleep- ing three on a grid.' Then Tomlinson looked back and forth, and there was little grace, For Hell-Gate filled the houseless Soul with the Fear of Naked Space. *Nay, this I ha' heard,' quo' Tomlinson, *and this was noised abroad, 'And this I ha' got from a Belgian book on the word of a dead French lord. ' — *Ye ha' heard, ye ha' read, ye ha' got, good lack! And the tale begins afresh — *Have ye sinned one sin for the pride o' the eye or the sinful lust of the flesh? ' Then Tomlinson he gripped the bars and yammered 'Let me in — *For I mind that I borrowed my neighbour's wife to sin the deadly sin.' The Devil he grinned behind the bars, and banked the fires high : * Did ye read of that sin in a book?' said he; and Tomlinson said 'Ay! ' 136 TOMLINSON The Devil he blew upon his nails, and the little devils ran; And he said, 'Go husk this whimpering thief that comes in the guise of a man : 'Winnow him out 'twixt star and star, and sieve his proper worth : 'There's sore decline in Adam's line if this be spawn of earth,' Empusa's crew, so naked-new they may not face the fire, But weep that they bin too small to sin to the height of their desire, Over the coal they chased the Soul, and racked it all abroad, As children rifle a caddis-case or the raven's foolish hoard. And back they came with the tattered Thing, as children after play. And they said: 'The soul that he got from God he has bartered clean away. 'We have threshed a stook of print and book, and winnowed a chattering wind 'And many a soul wherefrom he stole, but his we cannot find : TOiMLINSON 137 'We have handled him, we have dandled him, we have seared him to the bone, *And sure if tooth and nail show truth he has no soul of his own.' The Devil he bowed his head on his breast and rumbled deep and low : — 'I'm all o'er-sib to Adam's breed that I should bid him go. *Yet close we lie, and deep we lie, and if I gave him place, *My gentlemen that are so proud would flout me to my face; 'They'd call my house a common stews and me a careless host, 'And — I would not anger my gentlemen for the sake of a shiftless ghost.' The Devil he looked at the mangled Soul that prayed to feel the flame, And he thought of Holy Charity, but he thought of his own good name : 'Now ye could haste my coal to waste, and sit ye down to fry : 'Did ye think of that theft for yourself?' said he; and Tomlinson said 'Ay 1 ' 138 TOMLINSON The Devil he blew an outward breath, for his heart was free from care : 'Ye have scarce the soul of a louse,' he said, 'but the roots of sin are there, *And for that sin should ye come in were I the lord alone. *But sinful pride has rule inside — and mightier than my own. 'Honour and Wit, fore-damned they sit, to each his priest and whore : 'Nay, scarce I dare myself go there, and you they'd torture sore. 'Ye are neither spirit nor spirk,' he said; 'ye are neither book nor brute — 'Go, get ye back to the flesh again for the sake of Man's repute. 'I'm all o'er-sib to Adam's breed that I should mock your pain, 'But look that ye win to worthier sin ere ye come back again. 'Get hence, the hearse is at your door — the grim black stallions wait — 'They bear your clay to place to-day. Speed, lest ye come too late ! TOMLINSON 139 *Go back to Earth with a lip unsealed — go back with an open eye, 'And carry my word to the Sons of Men or ever ye come to die : 'That the sin they do by two and two they must pay for one by one — *And . . . the God that you took from a printed book be with you, Tomlinson! ' BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS To T. A. I have made for you a song^ And it may be right or wrong. But only you can tell me ififs true; I have tried for to explain Both your pleasure and your pain. And, Thomas, here's my best respects to you ! Oh, there'll surely come a day When thef II grant you all your pay, And treat you as a Christian ought to do ; So, U7itil that day coffies round, Heaven keep you safe and sound, And, Thomas, here's my best respects to you. R. K. DANNY DEEVER 'What are the bugles blowin' for?' said Files-on- Parade. 'To turn you out, to turn you out,' the Colour- Sergeant said. ' What makes you look so white, so white ? ' said Files-on- Parade. * I'm dreadin' what I've got to watch,' the Colour- Sergeant said. For they're hangin' Danny Deever, you can hear 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'. 143 144 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS * What makes the rear-rank breathe so 'ard ? ' said Files-on-Parade. *It's bitter cold, it's bitter cold/ the Colour- Sergeant said. MVhat makes that front-rank man fall down?' says Files-on-Parade. *A touch o' sun, a touch o' sun,' the Colour-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'U swing in 'arf a minute for a sneakin' shootin' hound — O 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 Colour- Sergeant said. * I've drunk 'is beer a score o' times,' said Files-on- Parade. * 'E's drinkin' bitter beer alone,' the Colour- Sergeant said. DANNY DEEVER 145 They are hangin' Danny Deever, you must mark 'im to 'is place, For 'c shot a comrade sleepin' — you must look 'im in the face; Nine 'undred of 'is county an' the regiment'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 Colour- Sergeant said. 'What's that that whimpers over'ead?' said Files- on- Parade. 'It's Danny's soul that's passin' now,' the Colour- Sergeant said. 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 recruits are shakin', an' they'll want their beer to-day, After hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'. K 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' giggled fit to die, I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I : O 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, O it's 'Thank you, Mister Atkins,' when the band begins to play. I went into a theatre as sober as could be, They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me ; 146 TOMMY 147 They sent mc to the gallery or round the music- 'alls, But when it comes to fightin', 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, the troopship's on the tide, O it's 'Special train for Atkins' when the trooper's on the tide. Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starva- tion cheap; An' hustlin' drunken soldiers 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, 148 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll, O it's *Thin red line of 'eroes ' when the drums begin to rolL We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no black- guards too, But single men in barricks, 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, there's trouble in the wind, O it's 'Please to walk in front, sir,' when there's trouble in the wind. You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all : We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational. TOMMY 149 Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's dis- grace. 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; Yes it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please ; But Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool — you bet that Tommy sees ! '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 Paythan 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 SusJcim, An' 'e played the cat an' banjo with our forces. So 'ere's /^ you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan; You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first- class fightin' man; We gives you your certificate, an' if you want it signed We'll come an' 'ave a romp with you when- ever you're inclined. 160 «FUZZY-VVUZZY' 1'>1 We took our chanst among the Kybcr 'ills, The Boers knocked us silly at a mile, The Burman give us Irrivvaddy 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 broke 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 'e's shown In usin' of 'is long two-'anded swords: When 'e's 'oppin' in an' out among the bush With 'is coffin-'eaded shield an' shovel-spear, An 'appy day with Fuzzy on the rush Will last an 'ealthy Tommy for a year. 152 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an^ your friends which are 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 give a damn For a Regiment o' British Infantree ! So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan; 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 broke a British square ! 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 seed 'im serve the Queen in a suit o' rifle-green. An' you'd best go look for a new love.' 'Soldier, soldier, come from the wars, Did ye see no more o' my true love? ' 153 154 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS 'I seed '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 down an' die with my true love ! ' *The pit we dug' 11 'ide 'im an' the twenty men beside 'im — An' you'd best go look for a new love.' 'Soldier, soldier, come from the wars. Do you bring no sign from my true love? ' 'I bring a lock of 'air that 'e alius used to wear, An' you'd best go look for a new love.' SOLDIER, SOLDIER 165 'Soldier, soldier, come from the wars, O 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 Mm for a new love. The dead they cannot rise, an' you'd better dry your eyes. An' you'd best take 'im for your true love. 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 of 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! Jest 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. 156 SCREW-GUNS 167 They sends 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' Looshai, we've give the Afreedeeman fits, For we fancies ourselves at two thousand, we guns that are built in two bits— 'Tss ! 'Tss 1 For you all love the screw-guns, etc. If a man doesn't work, why, we drills 'im an' teaches 'im 'ow to behave; 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 iield-guns? By God, you must lather with us— 'Tss ! 'Tss ! For you all love the screw-guns, etc. The eagles is screamin' around us, the riyer's a- moanin' below. We're clear o' the pine an' the oak-scrub, we're out on the rocks an' the snow, 158 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS 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, etc. 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 you as straight as a beggar can spit : With the sweat runnin' out o' your shirt-sleeves, an' the sun off the snov/ 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, etc. Smokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin' the mornin' cool, 1 climbs 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 ! SCREW-GUNS 159 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 can't get away from the guns ! CELLS I've a head like a concertina: I've a tongue like a button-stick : I've a mouth like an old potato, and I'm more than a little sick, But I've had my fun o' the Corp'ral's Guard: I've made the cinders fly, And I'm here in the Clink for a thundering drink and blacking the Corporal's eye. With a second-hand overcoat under my head, And a beautiful view of the yard. Oh, it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B. For 'drunk and resisting the Guard ! ' Mad drunk and resisting the Guard — 'Strewth, but I socked it them hard! So it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B. For 'drunk and resisting the Guard.' 160 Copyright, 1892, by Macmillan St Co. CELLS 161 I started o' canteen porter, I finished o' canteen beer, But a dose o' gin that a mate slipped in, it was that brought me here. 'Twas that and an extry double Guard that rubbed my nose in the dirt; But I fell away with the Corp'ral's stock and the best of the Corp'ral's shirt. I left my cap in a public-house, my boots in the public road, And Lord knows where, and I don't care, my belt and my tunic goed, They'll stop my pay, they'll cut away the stripes I used to wear, But I left my mark on the Corp'ral's face, and I think he'll keep it there! My wife she cries on the barrack-gate, my kid in the barrack-yard, It ain't that I mind the Ord'ly room — it's that that cuts so hard. 162 BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS I'll take my oath before them both that I will sure abstain, But as soon as I'm in with a mate and gin, I know I'll do it again! With a second-hand overcoat under my head And a beautiful view of the yard, Yes, it's pack-drill for me and a fortnight's C.B. For * drunk and resisting the Guard.' Mad drunk and resisting the Guard — 'Strewth, but I socked it them hard ! So it's pack-drill with me and a fortnight's C.B. For Mrunk and resisting the Guard.' 1 GUNGA DIN You may talk o' gin and beer When you're quartered safe out 'ere, An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it; But when 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 blackfaced crew The finest man I knew Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din. He was 'Din! Din! Din! You limping lump o' brick-dust, Gunga Din! Hi ! slippery hitherao ! Water, get it ! Panee lao ! ^ You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din.' The uniform 'e wore Was nothin' much before, 1 Bring water swiftly. 163 1