tFARmfcNlAL'Dn AND -THE -VAMPIRE KIPLING- L18RA&Y UNIV6SJTY OP CAUPORNIA SAN DlfiQO presented to the LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SAN DIEGO by FRIENDS OF THE LIBRARY MR. JOHN C. ROSE donor Departmental Ditties The Vampire, Etc. List of Volumes in the Pomegranate Series By Ktidyard Kipling. THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING THE COURTING OF DINAH SHADD THE DRUMS OF THE FORE AND AFT WITHOUT BENEFIT OF CLERGY THE INCARNATION OF KRISHNA MULVANEV BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS AND RECESSIONAL DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES AND THE VAMPIRE THE RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM Fourth Fitfgerald Translation QUATRAINS OF OMAR KHAYYAM By Justin HuntUy McCarthy Departmental Ditties The Vampire, Etc. By Rudyard Kipling Published by Brentano's at 31 Union Square, New York Contents DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES : PAGE PRELUDE 3 GENERAL SUMMARY .... 5 ARMY HEADQUARTERS ... 7 STUDY OF AN ELEVATION, IN INDIAN INK 10 A LEGEND OF THE FOREIGN OF- FICE 12 THE STORY OF URIAH ... 16 THE POST THAT FITTED ... 18 PUBLIC WASTE .... 21 DELILAH 25 WHAT HAPPENED .... 29 PINK DOMINOES .... 34 THE MAN WHO COULD WRITE . 37 MUNICIPAL 41 A CODE OF MORALS ... 45 THE LAST DEPARTMENT ... 49 OTHER VERSES : "As THE BELL CLINKS" . . 55 AN OLD SONG 59 CERTAIN MAXIMS OF HAFIZ . . 63 v Contents THE GRAVE OP THE HUNDRED HEAD 69 THE MOON OF OTHER DAYS . . 74 THE OVERLAND MAIL ... 76 WHAT THE PEOPLE SAID . . 79 THE UNDERTAKER'S HORSE . . 82 THE FALL OF JOCK GILLESPIE . 85 ARITHMETIC ON THE FRONTIER . 88 THE BETROTHED .... 90 GRIFFEN'S DEBT .... 96 IN SPRINGTIME .... 101 Two MONTHS 103 THE GALLEY-SLAVE .... 106 L'ENVOI Ill THE CONUNDRUM OF THE WORK- SHOPS 112 THE EXPLANATION . . . . 116 THE GIFT OF THE SEA . . . 118 THE BALLAD OF EAST AND WEST . 122 THE LAST SUTTEE .... 132 THE BALLAD OF THE " CLAMPHER- DOWN " . . . . . . 139 THE VAMPIRE 144 OUR LADY OF THE SNOWS . . 147 vi DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES / HAVE eaten your bread and salt, I have drunk your water and wine, The 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 not know, Dear hearts across the seas ? I have written the tale of our life For a sheltered people's mirth, In jesting guise but ye are wise, And ye know what the jest is worth. General Summary WE are very slightly changed From the semi-apes who ranged India's prehistoric clay ; Whoso drew the longest bow Ean 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. 5 General Summary Ere they hewed the Sphinx's visage, Favoritism governed kissage, Even as it does in this age. Who shall doubt the secret hid Under Cheops' pyramid Was that the contractor did Cheops out of several millions ? Or that Joseph's sudden rise To Comptroller of Supplies Was a fraud of monstrous size On King Pharaoh's swart civilians ? Thus, the artless songs I sing Do not deal with anything New or never said before. As it was in the beginning, Is to-day official sinning, And shall be for evermore. Army Headquarters Old is the song that I sing Old as my unpaid bills Old as the chicken that kitmutgars bring Men at dak-bungalows old as the Hills. AHASUERUS JENKINS, of the "Operatic Own," Was dowered with a tenor voice of super- 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 quit his charger in a parabolic way ; His method of saluting was the joy of all beholders ; But Ahasuerus Jenkins had a head upon his shoulders. 7 Army Headquarters He took two months to Simla when the year was at the spring, And underneath the deodars eternally did sing. He warbled like a bulbul, but particularly at Cornelia Agrippina, who was musical and fat. She controlled a humble husband, who, in turn, controlled a Dept., Where Cornelia Agrippina's human sing- ing-birds were kept From April to October on a plump retaining fee, Supplied, of course, per mensem, by the Indian Treasury. Cornelia used to sing with him, and Jenkins used to play ; He praised unblushingly her notes, for he was as false as they. So when the winds of April turned the bud- ding roses brown, Cornelia told her husband : "Tom, you mustn't send him down." Army Headquarters They haled him from his regiment, which didn't much regret him ; They found for him an office-stool, and on that stool they set him, To play with maps and catalogues three idle hours a day, And draw his plump retaining fee which means his double pay. Now, ever after dinner, when the coffee- cups are brought, Ahasuerus waileth o'er the grand piano- forte ; 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 string of lies. But how the deuce did Gubbins rise ? POTIPHAR GUBBINS, C.E., Stands at the top of the tree ; And I muse in my bed on the reasons that led To the hoisting of Potiphar G. Potiphar Gubbins, C.E., Is seven years junior to Me : Each bridge that he makes 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. 10 Study of an Elevation, in Indian Ink Potiphar Gubbins, C.E., Is dear to the Powers that Be ; For They bow and They smile in an affable style Which is seldom accorded to Me. Potiphar Gubbins, C.E., Is as 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 ? 11 A Legend of the Foreign Office This is the reason why Rustum JBeg, Rajah of Kolazai, Drinketh the " simpkin " and brandy peg, Mdketh the money to fly, Vexeth a Government tender and kind, Also but this is a detail blind. RUSTUM BEG, of Kolazai Slightly backward native State, Lusted for a C.S.I. So began to sanitate. Build a Jail and Hospital Nearly built a City drain Till his faithful subjects all Thought their ruler was insane. Strange departures made he then Yea, Departments stranger still. Half a dozen Englishmen Helped the Rajah with a will 12 A Legend of the Foreign Office Talked of noble aims and high, Hinted at a future fine For the State of Kolazal, On a strictly Western line. Rajah Rustum held his peace; Lowered octroi dues a half; Organized a State Police ; Purified the Civil Staff; Settled cess and tax afresh In a very liberal way ; Cut temptations of the flesh Also cut the Bukhshi's pay ; Roused his Secretariat To a fine Mahratta fury, By a Hookum hinting at Supervision of dasturi ; Turned the State of Kolazai Very nearly upside-down ; When the end of May was nigh, Waited his achievement crown. 13 A Legend of the Foreign Office Then the Birthday Honors came. Sad to state and sad to see, Stood against the Rajah's name Nothing more than C.I.E. ! Things were lively for a week In the State of Kolazai. Even now the people speak Of that time regretfully How he disendowed the Jail Stopped at once the City drain ; Turned to beauty fair and frail Got his senses back again ; 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 honors manifold ; Clad himself in Eastern garb ; Squeezed his people as of old. 14 A Legend of the Foreign Office Happy, happy Kolazai ! Never more will Rustum Beg Play to catch the Viceroy's eye. He prefers the " simpkin " peg. 15 The Story of Uriah " Now there were two men in one city ; the one rich, and the other poor." JACK BARRETT went to Quetta because they told him to. He left his wife at Simla on three-fourths his monthly screw : Jack Barrett died at Quetta ere the next month's pay he drew. Jack Barrett went to Quetta. 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, 16 The Story of Uriah Attempting two men's duty in that very healthy post ; And Mrs. Barrett mourned for him five lively months at most. Jack Barrett's bones at Quetta enjoy pro- found repose; But I shouldn't be astonished if now his spirit knows The reason of his transfer from the Hima- layan 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. 17 The Post that Fitted Tho 1 tangled and twisted the course of true love, This ditty explains 2fo tangle's so tangled it can not improve %f 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 Boff kins knew that Minnie mightn't make another match. 18 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 Sleary put it, "Just the thing for me and Carrie." Did he, therefore, jilt Miss Boffkin im- pulse of a baser mind ? No! He started epileptic fits of an appall- ing 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 public places his affliction used to smite Sleary with distressing vigor always in the Boffkins' sight. 19 The Post that Fitted Ere a week was over Minnie weepingly re- turned his ring, Told him his " unhappy weakness" stopped all thought of marrying. Sleary bore the information with a chas- tened 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. 20 Public Waste Walpole talks of " a man and his price." List to a dilty 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 labored from boyhood to eld On the Lines of the East and the West, and eke of the North and the South ; 21 Public Waste Many lines had he built and surveyed im- portant 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 Bail ways required lifetimes of study and knowledge ; Never clanked sword by his side Vauban he knew not, nor drill Nor was his name on the list of the men who had passed through the ' ' Col- lege." Wherefore the Little Tin Gods harried their little tin souls, Seeing he came not from Chatham, jin- gled no spurs at his heels, Knowing that, nevertheless, was he first on the Government rolls For the billet of "Railway Instructor to Little Tin Gods on Wheels." 22 Public Waste Letters not seldom they wrote him, "Hav- ing the honor to state," It would be better for all men if he were laid on the shelf : Much would accrue to his bank-book, and he consented to wait Until the Little Tin Gods built him a berth for himself. "Special, well paid, and exempt from the Law of the Fifty and Five, Even to Ninety and Nine," these were the terms of the pact : Thus did the Little Tin Gods (long- may Their Highnesses thrive ! ) Silence his mouth with rupees, keeping their Circle intact ; Appointing a Colonel from Chatham, who managed the Bhamo State Line, (The which was one mile and one furlong a guaranteed twenty-inch gauge). 23 Public Waste So Exeter Battleby Tring consented his claims to resign, And died on four thousand a month in the ninetieth year of his age. Delilah We have another Viceroy now ; those days are dead and done Of Delilah Aberyswith and depraved Ulysses Gfunne. 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 Prehis- toric 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. 25 Delilah She patronized extensively a man Ulysses Gunne Whose mode of earning money was a low and shameful one. He wrote for divers papers, which, as every- body 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 compliments unstinted. He went with her a-riding, and his love for her was such That he lent her all his horses, and she galled them very much. One day, THEY brewed a secret of a fine financial sort ; It related to Appointments, to a Man and a Eeport. 26 Delilah 'Twas almost worth the keeping (only seven people knew it), And 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 Perhaps Delilah's eyes were bright, Delilah's whispers sweet The Aged Member told her what 't were treason to repeat. Ulysses went a-riding, and they talked of love and flowers ; Ulysses went a-calling, and he called for several hours ; Ulysses went a- waltzing, and Delilah helped him dance : Ulysses let the waltzes go, and waited for his chance. 27 Delilah The summer sun was setting, and the sum- mer air was still The couple went a- walking in the shade of Summer Hill ; The wasteful sunset faded out in turltis- green and gold Ulysses pleaded softly, and that bad De- lilah told ! Next morn, a startled Empire learnt the all- important news ; Next week, the Aged Councillor was shak- ing in his shoes ; Next month, I met Delilah, and she did not show the least Hesitation in affirming that Ulysses was a "beast." We have another Viceroy now those days are dead and done Of Delilah Aberyswith and most mean Ulysses Gunne ! 28 What Happened HURPEE CHTJNDER 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 Mooker jee, ' ' Stick to pen and ink ; They are safer implements; but, if you insist, We will let you carry arms wheresoe'er you list," 29 Hurpee Chunder Mookerjee sought the gun- smith and Bought the tuber 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 Yusufzai, down to kill or steal, Chimbu Singh from Bikaneer, Tantia the Bhil, Killar Khan the Marri chief, Jowar Singh the Sikh, Nubbee Baksh Punjabi Jat, Abdul Huq Rafiq He was a Wahabi ; last, little Boh Hla-oo Took advantage of the act took a Snider too. 30 What Happened 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. 31 What Happened Jowar Singh the Sikh procured sabre, quoit, and mace ; Abdul Huq, Wahabi, took the dagger from its place ; While amid the jungle-grass danced and grinned and jabbered Little Boh Hla-oo and cleared the dah-blade from the scabbard. What became of Mookerjee ? Soothly, who can say ? Yar Mahommed only grins in a nasty way, Jowar Singh is reticent, Chimbu Singh is mute; But the belts of them all simply bulge with loot. What became of Ballard's guns ? Afghans black and grubby Sell them for their silver weight to the men of Pubbi; And the shiny bowie-knife and the town- made sword are Hanging in a Marri camp just across the Border. 32 What Happened What became of Mookerjee? Ask Ma- hommed 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 ! 33 Pink Dominoes " They are fools who kiss and tell," wisely has the poet sung. Man may hold all sorts of posts if he'll only hold his tongue. JENNY and Me were engaged, you see, On the eve of the Fancy Ball ; So a kiss or two was nothing to you Or any one else at all. Jenny would go in a domino Pretty and pink but warm ; While I attended, clad in a splendid Austrian uniform. Now, we had arranged, through notes ex- changed Early that afternoon, At Number Four to waltz no more, But to sit in the dusk and spoon. 34 Pink Dominoes (I wish you to see that Jenny and Me Had barely exchanged our troth ; So a kiss or two was strictly due By, from, and between us both.) When Three was over, an eager lover, I fled to the gloom outside ; And a Domino came out also Whom I took for my future bride. That is to say, in a casual way, I slipped my arm around her ; With a kiss or two (which is nothing to you), And ready to kiss I found her. She turned her head, and the name she said Was certainly not my own ; But ere I could speak, with a smothered shriek She fled and left me alone. Then Jenny came, and I saw with shame She'd doffed her domino ; And I had embraced an alien waist But I did not tell her so. 35 Pink Dominoes Next morn I knew that there were two Dominoes pink, and one Had cloaked the spouse of Sir Julian Vouse, Our big political gun. Sir J. was old, and her hair was gold, And her eye was a blue cerulean ; And the name she said when she turned her head Was not in the least like "Julian." Now, wasn't it nice, when want of pice Forbade us twain to marry, That old Sir J., in the kindest way, Made me his Secretary/ ? 36 The Man Who Could Write Shunthun tJie Bowl! That fatal, facile drink Has ruined many geese who dipped their quills in '*. Bribe, murder, marry but steer dear of Ink, Save when you write receipts for paid-up bills in '. There may be silver in the " blue-black," all I know of is the iron and the gall. BOANERGES BLITZEN, servant of the Queen, Is a dismal failure is a Might-have-been. In a luckless moment he discovered men Rise to high position through a ready pen. Boanerges Blitzen argued, therefore, " I With the selfsame weapon can attain as high." Only he did not possess, when he made the trial, Wicked wit of C-lv-n, irony of L 1. 37 The Man Who Could Write (Men who spar with Government need, to back their blows, Something more than ordinary journalistic prose.) 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 ? 38 The Man Who Could Write When the Rag he wrote for praised his plucky game, Boanerges Blitzen felt that this was Fame : When the men he wrote of shook their heads and swore, Boanerges Blitzen only wrote the more. Posed as Young Ithuriel, resolute and grim, Till he found promotion didn't come to him Till he found that reprimands weekly were his lot, And his many Districts curiously hot. Till he found his furlough strangely hard to win, Boanerges Blitzen didn't care a pin : Then it seemed to dawn on him something wasn't right Boanerges Blitzen put it down to " spite." Languished in a District desolate and dry ; Watched the Local Government yearly pass him by , 39 The Man Who Could Write Wondered where the hitch was ; called it most unfair. That -was seven years ago and he still is there. 40 Municipal " Why is my District death-rale low? " Said Binks of Hezabad. " Wells, drains, and sewage-outfalls are My own peculiar fad. I learnt a lesson once. It ran Thus," quoth that most veracious man: IT was an August evening, and, in snowy garments clad, I paid a round of visits in the lines of Heza- bad ; When, presently, my Waler saw, and did not like at all, A Commissariat elephant careering down the Mall. I couldn't see the driver, and across my mind it rushed That that Commissariat elephant had sud- denly gone musth. 41 Municipal I didn't care to meet him, and I couldn't well get down, So I let the Waler have it, and we headed for the town. The buggy was a new one, and, praise Dykes, it stood the strain, Till the Waler jumped a bullock just above the City Drain ; And the next that I remember was a hur- ricane 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, while he snorted in my ear Reached the four-foot drain-head safely, and, in darkness and despair, Felt the brute's proboscis fingering my terror-stiffened hair. 42 Municipal Heard it trumpet on my shoulder tried to crawl a little higher Found the Main Drain sewage-outfall blocked, some eight feet up, with mire ; And for twenty reeking minutes, Sir, my very marrow froze, While the trunk was feeling blindly for a purchase on my toes ! It missed me by a fraction, but my hair was turning gray Before they called the drivers up and dragged the brute away. Then I sought the City Elders, and my words were very plain. They flushed that four-foot drain-head, and it never choked again. You may hold with surface drainage and the sun-for-garbage cure Till you've been a periwinkle shrinking coyly up a sewer. 43 Municipal I 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. 44 A Code of Morals Lest you should think this story true, I merely mention I Evolved it lately. 'Tis a most Unmitigated misstatement. Now, Jones had left his new- wed bride to keep his house in order, And hied away to Hurrum Hills, above the Afghan border, To sit on a rock with a heliograph ; but ere he left he taught His wife the working of the Code that sets the miles at naught. And Love had made him very sage, as Nature made her fair ; So Cupid and Apollo linked, per helio- graph, the pair. 45 A Code of Morals At dawn, across the Hurrum Hills, he flashed her counsel wise At e'en, the dying sunset bore her hus- band's homilies. He warned her 'gainst seductive youths in scarlet clad and gold, As much as 'gainst the blandishments pa- ternal of the old ; But kept his gravest warnings for (hereby the ditty hangs) That snowy-haired Lothario, Lieutenant- General Bangs. 'Twas General Bangs, with Aide and Staff, that tittupped on the way, When they beheld a heliograph tempes- tuously 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 : 46 A Code of Morals " 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,' Gad- zooks ! ' My darling popsy-wop ! ' Spirit of great Lord Wolseley, icho is on that mountain top ? " The artless Aide-de-camp was mute ; the gilded Staff were still, As, dumb with pent-up mirth, they booked that message from the hill ; For, clear as summer's lightning flare, the 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.) 47 A Code of Morals With damnatory dot and dash he helio- graphed his wife Some interesting details of the General's private life. The artless Aide-de-camp was mute ; the shining Staff were still, And red and ever redder grew the General's shaven gill. And this is what he said at last (his feelings matter not) : "I think we've tapped a private line. Hi ! Threes about there ! Trot ! " All honor unto Bangs, for ne'er did Jones thereafter know By word or act official who read off that helio. ; But the tale is on the Frontier, and from Michni to Moolfcm They know the worthy General as "that most immoral man." 48 The Last Department Twelve hundred million men are spread About this Earth, and I and You Wonder, when You and I are dead, What will those luckless millions do? "NONE -whole or clean," we cry, "or free from stain Of favor. " Wait a while, till we attain The Last Department, where nor fraud nor fools, Nor grade nor greed, shall trouble us again. Fear, Favor, or Affection what are these To the grim Head who claims our services ? I never knew a wife or interest yet Delay that pukka step miscalled ' ' decease " ; When leave long overdue none can deny ; When idleness of all Eternity Becomes our furlough, and the mari- gold Our thriftless, bullion-minting Treasury. 4 49 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 50 The Last Department 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. SI OTHER VERSES 53 "As the Bell Clinks" As I left the Halls at Lumley, Rose the vision of a comely Maid last season worshipped dumbly, Watched with fervor from afar ; And I wondered, idly, blindly, If the maid would greet me kindly. That was all the rest was settled By the clinking tonga-bar. Yea, my life and hers were coupled By the tonga coupling-bar. For my misty meditation, At the second changing-station, Suffered sudden dislocation, Fled before the tuneless jar Of a Wagner obbligato, 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. 55 "As the Bell Clinks" "She was sweet," thought I, "last season; But 'twere surely wild unreason. Such tiny hope to freeze on As was offered by my Star, When she whispered, something sadly, ' I we feel your going badly ! ' " " And you let the chance escape you?" Eapped the rattling tonga-bar. "What a chance, and what an idiot!" Clicked the vicious tonga-bar. Heart of man oh, heart of putty ! Had I gone by Kakahutti, On the old Hill-road and rutty, I had 'scaped that fatal car. But his fortune each must bide by So I watched the milestones slide by, To ' ' You call on Her to-morrow ! " Fugue with cymbals by the bar ; ' ' You must call on Her to-morroiv ! " Post-horn gallop by the bar. Yet a further stage my goal on We were whirling down to Solon, With a double lurch and roll on, 56 " As the Bell Clinks" Best foot foremost, ganz und gar " She was very sweet," I hinted. " If a kiss had been imprinted ? " " ''Would ha? saved a world of trouble ! " Clashed the busy tonga-bar. " ''Been accepted or rejected I " Banged and clanged the tonga-bar. Then a notion wild and daring, 'Spite the income tax's paring, And a hasty thought of sharing Less than many incomes are, Made me put a question private, You can guess what I would drive at. " 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 ? 57 " As the Bell Clinks" Answer, monitor untiring, 'Twixt the ponies twain perspiring ! " "Faint heart never won fair lady," Creaked the straining tonga-bar. ' ' Can I tell you ere you ask Her 1 " Pounded slow the tonga-bar. Last, the Tara Devi turning, Showed the lights of Simla burning, Lit my little lazy yearning To a fiercer flame by far. As below the Mall we jingled, Through my very heart it tingled Did the iterated order Of the threshing tonga-bar " Try your luck you can't do better!" Twanged the loosened tonga-bar. 58 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 ive two ? So long as Aces take the King, or backers take the bet, So long as debt leads men to wed, and mar- riage leads to debt, 59 An Old Song So long as little luncheons, Love, and scandal hold their vogue, While there is sport at Annandale or whis- key at Jutogh, If you love me as I love you, What knife can cut our love in two ? So long as down the rocking floor the raving polka spins, So long as Kitchen Lancers spur the mad- dened violins, So long as through the whirling smoke we hear the oft-told tale, " Twelve hundred in the Lotteries," and Whatshername for sale, If you love me as I love you, We'll play the game, and win it too. So long as Lust or Lucre tempt straight riders from the course, So long as with each drink we pour black brewage of Remorse, 60 So long as those unloaded guns we keep beside the bed Blow off, by obvious accident, the lucky owner's head, If you love me as I love you, What can Life kill or Death undo ? So long as Death 'twixt dance and dance chills best and bravest blood, And drops the reckless rider down the rotten, rain-soaked khtid, So long as rumors from the North make loving wives afraid, So long as Burma takes the boy and typhoid kills the maid, If you love me as I love you, What knife can cut our love in ttvo f By all that lights our daily life or works our lifelong woe, From Boileaugunge to Simla Downs and those grim glades below, 61 An Old Song Where, heedless of the flying- hoof and clamor overhead, Sleep, with the gray langnr for guard, our very scornful Dead, If you love me as I lave you, All Earth is servant to we two. By Docket, Billet-doux, and File, by Moun- tain, Cliff, and Fir, By Fan and Sword and Office-box, by Corset, Plume, and Spur, By Riot, Revel, Waltz, and War, by Wo- men, 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 ? 62 Certain Maxims of Hafiz I IF it be pleasant to look on, stalled in the packed serai, Does not the Young Man try Its temper and pace ere he buy ? If She be pleasant to look on, what does the Young Man say ? : ' Lo ! She is pleasant to look on give Her to me to-day ! " II Yea, though a Kafir die, to him is remitted Jehannum If he borrowed in life from a native at sixty per cent, per annum. Ill 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 63 Certain Maxims of Hafiz IV The temper of chums, the love of your wife, and a new piano's tune Which of the three will you trust at the end of an Indian June ? V Who are the rulers of Ind to whom shall we bow the knee ? Make your peace with the women, and men will make you L. G. VI Does the woodpecker flit round the young ferash ? Does grass clothe a new- built wall ? Is she under thirty, the woman who holds a boy in her thrall ? vn If She grow suddenly gracious reflect. Is it all for thee ? The black-buck is stalked through the bul- lock, and Man through jealousy. 64 Certain Maxims of Hafiz VIII Seek not for favor of women. So shall you find it indeed. Does not the boar break cover just when you're lighting a weed ? IX If He play, being young and unskilful, for shekels of silver and gold, Take His money, my son, praising Allah. The kid was ordained to be sold. X With a " weed " among men or horses, verily this is the best That you work him in office or dog-cart lightly but give him no rest. XI Pleasant the snaffle of Courtship, improving the manners and carriage. But the colt who is wise will abstain from the terrible thorn-bit of Marriage. 5 65 Certain Maxims of Hafiz XII As the thriftless gold of the babul, so is the gold that we spend On a Derby Sweep, or our neighbor's wife, or the horse that we buy from a friend. XIII The ways of man with a maid be strange, yet simple and tame To the ways of a man with a horse, when selling or racing that same. XIV In public Her face turneth to thee, and pleasant Her smile when ye meet. It is ill. The cold rocks of El-Gidar smile thus on the waves at their feet. 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 ? 66 Certain Maxims of Hafiz XV If She have spoken a word, remember thy lips are sealed ; And the Brand of the Dog is upon him by whom is the secret revealed. If She have written a letter, delay not an instant, but burn it. Tear it in pieces, O Fool, and the wind to Her mate shall return it ! If there be trouble to Herward, and a lie of the blackest can clear, Lie, while thy lips can move or a man is alive to hear. XVI My son, if a maiden deny thee, and scuf- fiingly 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. 67 Certain Maxims of Hafiz XVII If we fall in the race, though we win, the hoof-slide is scarred on the course. Though Allah and Earth pardon Sin, re- maineth forever Remorse. XVIII "By all I am misunderstood ! " if the Itlatron shall say ; or the Maid : "Alas! I do not understand," my son, be thou nowise afraid. In vain in the sight of the Bird is the net of the Fowler displayed. XIX My son, if I, Hafiz, thy father, take hold of thy knees in my pain, 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 ? THERE'S a widow in sleepy Chester who weeps for her only son : Tliere's a grave on the Pabeng River a grave that the Burmans shun ; And there's Subadar Prag Teivarri who tells how the ivork icas 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. 69 The Grave of the Hundred Head 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 samadh in his honor a mark for his resting-place. For they swore by the Holy Water, they swore by the salt they ate, That the soul of Lieutenant Eshmitt Sahib should go to his God in state With fifty file of Burinan 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 vil- lage of Pabengmay A jingal covered the clearing, calthrops hampered the way. Subadar Prag Tewarri, bidding them load with ball, 70 The Grave of the Hundred Head Halted a dozen rifles under the village wall ; Sent out a flanking-party with Jemadar Hira Lai. The men of the First Shikaris shouted and smote and slew, Turning the grinning jingal onto the howl- ing 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. 71 The Grave of the Hundred Head They made a pile of their trophies high as a tall man's chin, Head upon head distorted, set in a sightless grin, Anger and pain and terror stamped on the smoke-scorched skin. Subadar Prag Tewarri put the head of the Boh On 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 samadh 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, 72 The Grave of the Hundred Head And Bohs that were brave departed, and Sniders squibbed no more ; For the Burmans said that a Icullah's head must be paid for with heads five score. There's a widow in sleepy Chester u-ho weeps for her only son ; There's a grave on the Pabeng River a grave that the Burmans shun ; And there's Subadar Prag Teicarri who tells how the icork was done. 73 The Moon of Other Days BENEATH the deep veranda's shade, When bats begin to fly, I sit me down and watch alas ! Another evening die. Blood-red behind the ser&ferash 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 ? 74 The Moon of Other Days But Wandle's stream is Sutlej now, And Putney's evening haze The dust that half a hundred kine Before my window raise. Unkempt, unclean, athwart the mist The seething city looms, In place of Putney's golden gorse The sickly babul blooms. Glare down, old Hecate, through the dust, And bid the pie-dog yell ; Draw from the drain its typhoid-germ, From each bazaar its smell ; Yea, suck the fever from the tank, And sap my strength therewith : Thank Heaven, you show a smiling face To Little Kitty Smith ! 75 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 astir at the close of the day We exiles are waiting for letters from Home. Let the robber retreat let the tiger turn tail- In the Name of the Empress, the Overland Mail! With a jingle of bells, as the dusk gathers in, He turns to the foot-path that heads up the hill 76 The Overland Mail The bags on his back and a cloth round his chin, And, tucked in his waist-belt, the Post Office bill: " Despatched on this date, as received by the rail, Per runner, two bags of the Overland Mail." Is the torrent in spate ? He must ford it or swim. Has the rain wrecked the road ? He must climb by the cliff. Does the tempest cry " Halt" ? What are tempests to him ? The Service admits not a "but" or an "if." While the breath's in his mouth, he must bear without fail, In the Name of the Empress, the Overland Mail. From aloe to rose-oak, from rose-oak to fir, From level to upland, from upland to crest, 77 The Overland Mail From rice-field to rock-ridge, from rock- ridge to spur, Fly the soft-sandalled feet, strains the hrawny 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 hillside, a dot on the road A jingle of bells on the foot-path below There's a scuffle above in the monkey's abode The world is awake, and the clouds are aglow. For the great Sun himself must attend to the hail : ' ' In the Name of the Empress, the Overland Mail ! " 78 What the People Said ( June 21st, 1887) BY the well where the bullocks go Silent and blind and slow By the field where the young corn dies In the face of the sultry skies, They have heard, as the dull Earth hears The voice of the wind of an hour, The sound of the Great Queen's voice : " My God hath given me years, Hath granted dominion and power ; And I bid you, 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, 79 What the People Said And the Mlech, in the fated year, Broke the spear in twain, And was broken in turn. Who knows How our Lords make strife ? It is good that the young wheat grows For the bread is Life." Then far and near, as the twilight drew, Hissed up to the scornful dark Great serpents, blazing, of red and blue, That rose and faded, and rose anew, That the Land might wonder and mark. "To-day is a day of days," they said ; " Make merry, 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. 80 What the People Said Our Kings and our Queens are afar On their peoples be peace ! God bringeth the rain to the Bar, That our cattle increase." And the 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." 6 81 The Undertaker's Horse " To-tschin-shu is condemned to death. Sow can he drink tea with the Executioner? " Japanese Proverb. THE eldest son bestrides him, And the pretty daughter rides him, And I meet him oft o' mornings on the Course ; And there wakens in my bosom An emotion chill and gruesome As I canter past the Undertaker's Horse. Neither shies he nor is restive, But a hideously suggestive Trot, professional and placid, he affects ; And the cadence of his hoof -beats, To my mind, this grim reproof beats : "Mend your pace, my friend, I'm coming. Who's the next?" 82 The Undertaker's Horse Ah ! stud-bred of ill-omen, I have watched the strongest go men Of pith and might and muscle at your heels, Down the plantain-bordered highway, (Heaven send it ne'er be my way!) In a lacquered box and jetty upon wheels. Answer, 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 businesslike 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 ! 83 The Undertakers Horse It may be you wait your time, Beast, Till I write my last bad rhyme, Beast, Quit the sunlight, cut the rhyming, drop the glass, Follow after with the others, Where some dusky heathen smothers Us with marigolds, in lieu of English grass. Or, perchance, in years to follow, I shall watch your plump sides hollow, See Carnifex (gone lame) become a corse, See old age at last o'erpower you, And the Station Pack devour you, I shall chuckle then, O Undertaker's Horse ! But to insult, gibe, and quest I've Still the hideously suggestive Trot that hammers out the grim and warn- ing 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 ? " 84 The Fall of Jock Gillespie THIS fell when dinner-time was done 'Twixt the first and 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." 85 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 lapel ? " ' ' Oh ! that is fra' my auld cigar, Whenas the stump-end fell." ' ' Mon Jock, ye smoke the Trichi coarse, For ye are short o' cash, An' best Havanas couldna leave Sae white an' pure an ash. 86 The Fall of Jock Gillespie " 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 f ou ! But plainly we can ken Ye're fallin', fallin', fra' the band 0' cantie single men ! " An' it fell when sirris-shaws were sere, An' the nichts were lang and mirk, In braw new breeks wi' a gowden ring, Oor Jockie gaed to the Kirk. 87 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 hrain and body meeter For all the murderous intent Comprised in "villanous saltpetre"! And after ask the Yusufzaies What comes of all our 'ologies. A scrimmage in a Border station A canter down some dark defile Two thousand pounds of education Drops to a ten-rupee jezail The Crammer's boast, the Squadron's pride, Shot like a rabbit in a ride ! 88 Arithmetic on the Frontier No proposition Euclid -wrote, No formulas 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 blessed with perfect sight, Picks off our messmates left and right. With home-bred hordes the hillsides teem, The troopships 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. 89 The Betrothed " You must choose between me and your cigar." OPEN the old cigar-box, get me a Cuba stout For things are running crossways, and Maggie and I are out. We 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 vapor, musing on Maggie's face. Maggie is pretty to look at Maggie's a lov- ing lass ; But the prettiest cheeks must wrinkle, the truest of loves must pass. 90 The Betrothed There's peace in a Laranaga, there's calm in a Henry Clay; But the best cigar in an hour is finished and thrown away Thrown away for another as perfect and ripe and hrown ; 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, though it's charred and black to the socket. 91 The Betrothed Open the old cigar-box let me consider a while Here is a mild Manila 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 ? 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 wi* the fifty give me, asking naught in return, With only a Suttee's passion to do their duty and burn. 92 The Betrothed 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. I will scent 'em with best vanilla, with tea will I temper their hides, And the Moor and the Mormon shall envy who read of the tale of my brides. For Maggie has written a letter to give me my choice between The wee little whimpering Love and the great god Nick o' Teen. 93 And I have been servant of Love for barely a twelvemonth clear, But I have been Priest of Partagas a matter of seven year ; And the gloom of my bachelor days is flecked with the cheery light Of stumps that I burned to Friendship and Pleasure and Work and Fight. And I turn my eyes to the future that Mag- gie and I must prove But the only light on the marshes is the Will-o'-the-Wisp of Love. Will it see me safe through my journey, or leave me bogged in the mire ? Since a puff of tobacco can cloud it, shall I follow the fitful fire ? Open the old cigar-box let me consider anew Old friends, and who is Maggie, that I should abandon you ? 94 The Betrothed 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 ! 95 Griffen's Debt IMPRIMIS, he was " broke." Thereafter left His regiment, and, later, took to drink ; Then, having lost the balance of his friends, "Went Fantee" joined the people of the land, Turned three parts Mussulman and one Hindu, And lived among the Gauri villagers, Who gave him shelter and a wife or twain, And boasted that a thorough, full-blood sahib Had come among them. Thus he spent his time, Deeply indebted to the village shroff (Who never asked for payment), always drunk, Unclean, abominable, out-at-heels, Forgetting that he was an Englishman. 96 Grifferis Debt You know they dammed the Gauri with a dain, And all the good contractors scamped their work, And all the bad material at hand Was used to dam the Gauri which was cheap, And, therefore, proper. Then the Gauri burst, And several hundred thousand cubic tons Of water dropped into the valley, flop ! And drowned some five and twenty vil- lagers, And did a lakh or two of detriment To crops and cattle. When the flood went down, We found him dead, beneath an old dead horse, Full six miles down the valley. So we said He was a victim to the Demon Drink, And moralized upon him for a week, And then forgot him. Which was natu- ral. 7 97 Grifferis Debt But in the valley of the Gauri, men Beneath the shadow of the big new dam Relate a foolish legend of the flood, Accounting for the little loss of life (Only those five and twenty villagers) In this wise : On the evening of the flood, They heard the groaning of the rotten dam, And voices of the Mountain Devils. Then An incarnation of the local God, Mounted upon a monster neighing horse, And flourishing a flail-like whip, came down, Breathing ambrosia, to the villages, And fell upon the simple villagers With yells beyond the power of mortal throat, And blows beyond the power of mortal hand, And smote them with the flail-like whip, and drove Them clamorous with terror up the hill, And scattered, with the monster neighing steed, 98 Griffen's Debt Their crazy cottages about their ears, And generally cleared those villages. Then came the water, and the local God, Breathing ambrosia, nourishing his whip, And mounted on his monster neighing steed, Went down the valley with the flying trees And residue of homesteads, while they watched Safe on the mountain-side these wondrous things, And knew that they were much beloved of Heaven. Wherefore, and when the dam was newly built, They raised a temple to the local God, And burned all manner of unsavory things Upon his altar, and created priests, And blew into a conch, and banged a bell, And told the story of the Gauri flood With circumstance and much embroidery. 99 Grifferi's Debt So he, the whiskified Objectionable, Unclean, abominable, out-at-heels, Became the tutelary Deity Of all the Gauri Valley villages ; And may in time become a Solar Myth. 100 In Springtime MY garden blazes brightly with the rose- bush and the peach, And the Jcoil sings above it, in the siris by the well ; From the creeper-covered trellis conies the squirrel's chattering speech, And the blue-jay screams arid nutters where the cheery sat-bhai dwell. But the rose has lost its fragrance, and the JcoiVs note is strange ; I am sick of endless sunshine, sick of blossom-burdened bough. Give me back the leafless woodlands where the winds of Springtime range Give me back one day in England for it's Spring in England now ! 101 In Springtime Through the pines the gusts are booming, o'er the brown fields blowing chill ; From the furrow of the ploughshare streams the fragrance of the loam ; And the hawk nests on the cliff -side and the jackdaw in the hill And my heart is back in England 'mid the sight and sounds of Home. But the garland of the sacrifice this wealth of rose and peach is ; Ah ! Jcoil, little koil, singing on the siris bough, In my ears the knell of exile your ceaseless bell-like speech is Can you tell me aught of England, or of Spring in England now ? 102 Two Months In June No hope, no change ! The clouds have shut us in And through the cloud the sullen Sun strikes down Full on the bosom of the tortured Town. Till Night falls heavy as remembered sin That will not suffer sleep or thought of ease. And, hour on hour, the dry-eyed Moon in spite Glares through the haze and mocks with watery light The torment of the uncomplaining trees. Far off, the Thunder bellows her despair To echoing Earth, thrice parched. The lightnings fly In vain. No help the heaped-up clouds afford, 103 Two Months But wearier weight of burdened, burning air. Wbat truce with Dawn ? Look, from the aching sky, Day stalks, a tyrant with a naming sword ! In September AT dawn there was a murmur in the trees, A ripple on the tank, and in the air Presage of coming coolness every- where A voice of prophecy upon the breeze. Up leapt the Sun and smote the dust to gold, And strove to parch anew the heedless land, All impotently, as a King grown old Wars for the Empire crumbling 'neath his hand. One after one, the lotos-petals fell Beneath the onslaught of the rebel year In mutiny against a furious sky ; 104 Two Months And far-off Winter whispered, " It is well ! Hot Summer dies. Behold, your help is near ! For when men's need is sorest, then come I." 105 The Galley-Slave OH, gallant was our galley from her carven steering-wheel To her figurehead of silver and her beak of hammered steel ; The leg-har chafed the ankle, and we gasped for cooler air, But no galley on the water with our galley could compare ! Our bulkheads bulged with cotton, and our masts were stepped in gold We ran a mighty merchandise of niggers in the hold ; The white foam spun behind us, and the black shark swam below, As we gripped the kicking sweep-head and we made that galley go. 106 The Galley-Slave It was merry in the galley, for we revelled now and then If they wore us down like cattle, faith, we fought and loved like men ! As we snatched her through the water, so we snatched a minute's bliss, And the mutter of the dying never spoiled the lovers' kiss. Our women and our children toiled beside us in the dark They died, we filed their fetters, and we heaved them to the shark We heaved them to the fishes, but so fast the galley sped, We had only time for envy, for we could not mourn our dead. Bear witness, once my comrades, what a hard-bit gang were we The servants of the sweep-head, but the masters of the sea ! 107 The Galley-Slave By the hands that drove her forward as she plunged and yawed and sheered, Woman, Man, or God or Devil, was there anything we feared ? "Was it storm ? Our fathers faced it, and a wilder never blew ; Earth that waited for the wreckage saw the galley struggle through. Burning noon or choking midnight, Sick- ness, Sorrow, Parting, Death ? Nay, our very babes would mock you, had they time for idle breath ! But to-day I leave the galley, and another takes my place ; There's my name upon the deck-beam let it stand a little space. I am free to watch my messmates beating out to open main, Free of all that Life can offer save to handle sweep again. 108 The Galley-Slave By the brand upon my shoulder, by the gall of clinging steel , By the welts the whips have left me, by the scars that never heal, By eyes grown old with staring through the sun-wash on the brine, I am paid in full for service would that service still were mine ! Yet they talk of times and seasons, and of woe the years bring forth Of our galley swamped and shattered in the rollers of the North ; When the niggers break the hatches, and the decks are gay with gore, And a craven-hearted pilot crams her crash- ing on the shore. She will need no half-mast signal, minute- gun, or rocket-flare ; When the cry for help goes seaward, she will find her servants there. 109 The Galley -Slave Battered chain-gangs of the orlop, grizzled drafts of years gone by, To the bench that broke their manhood they shall lash themselves and die. Hale and crippled, young and aged, paid, deserted, shipped away Palace, cot, and lazaretto shall make up the tale that day, When the skies are black above them, and the decks ablaze beneath, And the top-men clear the raffle with their clasp-knives in their teeth. It may be that Fate will give me life and leave to row once more Set some strong man free for fighting as I take a while his oar. But to-day I leave the galley. Shall I curse her service, then ? God be thanked whate'er comes after, I have lived and toiled with Men ! 110 L' Envoi (To whom it may concern) THE smoke upon your Altar dies, the flowers decay ; The Goddess of your sacrifice has flown away. What profit, then, to sing or slay The sacrifice from day to day ? "We know the Shrine is void," they said, "the Goddess flown ; Yet wreaths are on the Altar laid the Altar- stone Is black with fumes of sacrifice, Albeit She had fled our eyes. ' ' For, it may be, if still we sing and tend the Shrine, Some Deity on wandering wing may there incline ; And, finding all in order neat, Stay while we worship at Her feet." Ill 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 hehind the leaves, " It's pretty but is it art ? " Wherefore he called to his wife, and fled to fashion his work anew The first of his race who cared a fig for the first most dread review ; And he left his lore to the use of his sons and that was a glorious gain When the Devil chuckled, " Is it art ? " in the ear of the branded Cain. They builded a tower to shiver the sky and wrench the stars apart, 112 The Conundrum of the Workshops 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 jabbering 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 old as the Eden Tree as new as the new-cut tooth For each man knows ere his lip-thatch grows he is master of art and truth; 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 ? " 8 113 The Conundrum of the Workshops We have learned to whittle the Eden Tree to the shape of a surplice-peg; We have learned to bottle our parents twain in the yolk of an addled egg ; We know that the tail must wag the dog, as the horse is drawn by the cart; But the Devil whoops, as he whooped of old, " It's clever but is it art ?" When the nicker 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 an- guish start When the Devil mutters behind the leaves, "It's pretty but is it art ? " 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, 114 The Conundrum of the Workshops And if we could come when the sentry slept, and softly scurry through, By the favor of God we might know as much as our father Adam knew. 115 The Explanation LOVE and Death once ceased their strife At the Tavern of Man's Life. Called for wine, and threw alas ! Each his quiver on the grass. When the bout was o'er, they found Mingled arrows strewed the ground. Hastily they gathered then Each the loves and lives of men. Ah, the fateful dawn deceived ! Mingled arrows each one sheaved : Death's dread armory was stored With the shafts he most abhorred : Love's light quiver groaned beneath Venom-hearted darts of death. 116 The Explanation 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 ? 117 The Gift of the Sea THE dead child lay in the shroud, And the widow watched beside ; And her mother slept, and the Channel swept The gale in the teeth of the tide. But the widow laughed at all. ' ' I have lost my man in the sea, And the child is dead. Be still," she said, ' ' What more can ye do to me ? " And the widow watched the dead. And the candle guttered low, And she tried to sing the Passing Song That bids the poor soul go. 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." 118 The Gift of the Sea Then came a cry from the sea, But the sea-rime blinded the glass, And " Heard ye nothing-, mother ? " she said ; " Tis the child that waits to pass." And the nodding mother sighed. ' ' 'Tis a lambing ewe in the whin ; For why should the christened soul cry out That never knew of sin ? " " Oh, feet I have held in my hand, Oh, hands at my heart to catch ! How should they know the road to go, And how should they lift the latch ? " 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. 119 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, Or the wail of the wind-blown gull ? " ' ' The terns are blown inland, The gray gull follows the plough. 'Twas never a bird, the voice I heard O mother, I hear it now ! " ' ' Lie still, dear lamb, lie still ; The child it 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 ! 1.20 The Gift of the Sea For the peace of my soul I must go," she said ; And she went to the calling sea. In the heel of the wind-bit pier, Where the twisted weed was piled, She came to the life she had missed by an hour, For she came to a little child. 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, 1 ' she said ; " We let it die in the dark ! " 121 The Ballad of East and West On, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet, Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God's great Judgment Seat ; But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth, When two strong men stand face to face, though 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 stahle-door be- tween the dawn and the day, And turned the calkins upon her feet, and ridden her far away. The Ballad of East and West 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 Bessaldar : " 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 favor 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, 123 The Ballad of East and West And ye may hear a breech-bolt snick where never a man is seen." 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 white of her eye, he made the pistol crack. He has fired once, he has fired twice, but the whistling ball went wide. "Ye shoot like a soldier," Kamal said. ' ' Show now if ye can ride. " 124 The Ballad of East and West 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. The dun he leaned against the bit and slugged his head above, But the red mare played with the siiaffle- 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, though 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 watercourse 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 125 The Ballad of East and West '"Twas only by favor 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. If I had raised my bridle-hand, as I have held it low, The little jackals that flee so fast were feast- ing all in a row : If I had bowed my head on my breast, as I have held it high, The kite that whistles above us now were gorged till she could not fly." 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. 12G The Ballad of East and West 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 ! 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 gray 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 : 127 The Ballad of East and West 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 shall she go with a lifter's dower, my turquoise-studded rein, My broidered saddle and saddle-cloth, and silver stirrups twain." 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 128 The Ballad of East and West He trod the ling- like a buck in spring, and he looked like a lance in rest. "Now, here is thy master," Kamal said, ' ' who 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 : And thou must make a trooper tough, and hack thy way to power Belike they will raise thee to Eessaldar 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 ; 9 129 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 ! 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 great Judgment Seat ; 130 Bui there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth, When two strong men stand face to face, though they come from the ends of the earth. 131 The Last Suttee [Not many years ago a King died in one of the Rajpoot States. His wives, disregarding the orders of the English against suttee, would have broken out of the palace had not the gates been barred. But one of them, disguised as the King's favorite danc- ing-girl, passed through the line of guards and reached the pyre. There, her courage failing, she prayed her cousin, a baron of the court, to kill her. This he did, not knowing 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 132 TJie Last Suttee On Ulwar sabre and Tonk jezail, Mewar headstall and Mar war mail, That clinked in the palace yard. 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-bed, From the Malwa 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 ! " 133 The Last Suttee We drove the great gates home apace; White hands were on the sill : 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 : ' ' Ohe, 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 be- low, And the grim guard watched her flee. They knew that the King had spent his soul On a North-bred dancing-girl ; 134 The Last Suttee That he prayed to a flat-nose Luckiiow god, And kissed the ground where her feet had trod, And doomed to death at her drunken nod, And swore by her lightest curl. We bore the King to his fathers' place, Where the tombs of the Sun-born stand ; Where the gray apes swing, and the pea- cocks 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; 135 The Last Suttee 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 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 gray, And kin to the Boondi Queen. He said : " O shameless, put aside The veil upon thy brow ! 136 The Last Suttee Who held the King and all his laud To the wanton will of a harlot's hand ! Will the white ash rise from the blistered brand? Stoop down and call him now ! '' Then she: "By the faith of my tarnished soul, All 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. " 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. 137 "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, Bed 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 ! 138 The Ballad of the " Clampherdown " 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 stei'n-gun beside; They dipped their noses deep in the sea, They racked their stays and stanchions 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. She opened fire at seven miles As ye shoot at a bobbing cork ; 139 The Ballad of the " Clampherdown" 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 ; 'Tvvere 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 ! " It was our war-ship "Clampherdown,'' And grimly did she roll ; 140 The Ballad of the ' ' Clampherdown '" Swung round to 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 ' ' Clampherdowii " That carried an armor-belt ; But fifty feet at stern and bow Lay bare as the paunch of the purser's sow To the hail of the Nordenfeldt. ' ' Captain, they lack us through and through ; The chilled-steel bolts are swift ! 141 The Ballad of the " Clampherdown" 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 ; 143 The Ballad of the " Clampherdoicn " And the scalded stokers yelped delight, As they rolled in the waist and heard the fight Stamp o'er their steel-walled pen. 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. 143 The Vampire As suggested by the Painting by Philip Burnt- Jones A FOOL there was and he made his prayer (Even as you and I ! ) To a rag and a bone and a hank of hair (We called her the woman who did not care), But the fool he called her his lady fair (Even as you and I ! ) Oh the years ive waste and the tears we waste And the work of our head and hand Belong to the woman who did not know (And now we know that she never could know) And did not understand. 144 The Vampire A fool thei'e was and his goods he spent (Even as you and I ! ) Honor and faith and a sure intent (And it wasn't the least what the lady meant), But a fool must follow his natural hent (Even as you and I ! ) Oh the toil we lost and the spoil we lost And the excellent things ive planned Belong to the woman ivho didn't know ivhy (And now ive know she never knew ivhy) And did not understand. The fool was stripped to his foolish hide (Even as you and I ! ) Which she might have seen when she threw him aside (But it isn't on record the lady tried) So some of him lived but the most of him died (Even as you and I ! ) 10 145 The Vampire And it isn't the shame and it isn't the blame That stings like a white-hot brand. IPs coming to know that she never knew why (Seeing at last she could never know why) And never could understand. 146 Our Lady of the Snows A NATION spoke to a nation, A Queen sent word to a throne : Daughter am I in my mother's house, But mistress in my own. The gates are mine to open As the gates are mine to close, And I set my house in order, Said the Lady of the Snows. Neither with laughter nor weeping, Fear or the child's amaze, Soberly under the white man's law My white men go their ways. Not for the Gentile's clamor, Insult or threat of blows, Bow we the knee of Baal, Said our Lady of the Snows. 147 Our Lady of the Snows My speech is clear and single, I talk of common things, Words of the wharf or market-place And the ware the merchant brings. Favor to those I favor, But a stumbling-block for my foes, Many there be that hate us, Said our Lady of the Snows. I called my chiefs to council, In the din of a troubled year, For the sake of a sign ye would not see And a word ye would not hear. This is our message and answer, This is the path we chose, For we be also a people, Said our Lady of the Snows. Carry the word to my sisters, To the Queens of the East and South, I have proved faith in the heritage By more than a word of mouth. 148 Our Lady of the Snou-s They that are wise may follow, Ere the world's war-trumpet blows. But I, I am first in the battle, Said our Ladv of the Snows. A nation spoke to a nation, A Queen sent word to a throne : Daughter am I in my mother's house ; But mistress in my own. The gates are mine to open As the gates are mine to close, And I abide in my mother's house, Said our Lady of the Snows. 42367 Press of J. J. Little & Co. Astor Place, New York A 000 671 272 3