THE LIBRARY 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 IN MEMORY OF 
 EDWIN CORLE 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 JEAN CORLE
 
 CHICAGO AND NEW YORK 
 THE HENNEBERRY COMPANY
 
 Stack 
 Annex 
 
 MS 
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 THERE arc men and classes of men that stand 
 above the common herd : the soldier, the sailor, 
 and the shepherd not infrequently ; the artist 
 rarely ; rarelier still, the clergyman ; the physi- 
 cian almost as a rule. He is the flower (such as 
 it is) of our civilization; and when that stage of 
 man is done with, and only remembered to be 
 marvelled at in history, he will be thought to 
 have shared as little as any in the defects of the 
 period, and most notably exhibited the virtues 
 of the race. Generosity he has, such as is pos- 
 sible to those who practice an art, never to those 
 who drive a trade ; discretion ; tested by a hun- 
 dred secrets ; tact, tried in a thousand embarrass- 
 ments ; and what are more important, Heraclean 
 cheerfulness and courage. So it is that he brings 
 air and cheer into the sickroom, and often enough, 
 though not so often as he wishes, brings healing. 
 
 Gratitude is but a lame sentiment; thanks, 
 when they are expressed, are often more. embar- 
 rassing than welcome ; and yet I must set forth 
 mine to a few out of many doctors who have 
 
 5 
 
 2039042
 
 6 DEDICATION. 
 
 brought me comfort and help; to Dr. Willey of 
 San Francisco, whose kindness to a stranger it 
 must be as grateful to him, as it is touching to 
 me, to remember ; to Dr. Karl Ruedi of Davos, 
 the good genius of the English in his frosty 
 mountains; to Dr. Herbert of Paris, whom I 
 knew only for a week ; and to Dr. Caissot of 
 Montpellier, whom I knew only for ten days, 
 and who have yet written their names deeply 
 in my memory; to Dr. Brandt of Royat ; to Dr. 
 Wakefield of Xice ; to Dr. Chepmell, whose visits 
 make it a pleasure to be ill ; to Dr. Horace Do- 
 bell, so wise in counsel ; to Sir Andrew Clark, 
 so unwearied in kindness ; and to that wise youth, 
 my uncle, Dr. Balfour. 
 
 I forget as many as I remember; and I ask 
 both to pardon me, these for silence, those for 
 inadequate speech. But one name I have kept 
 on purpose to the last, because it is a household 
 word with me, and because if I had not received 
 favours from so many hands and in so many 
 quarters of the world it should have stood upon 
 this page alone : that of my friend Thomas Bod- 
 ley Scott of Bournemouth. Will he accept this, 
 although shared among so many, for a dedica- 
 tion to himself? And when next my ill-fortune 
 (which has thus its pleasant side) brings him
 
 DEDICATION. 7 
 
 hurrying to me when he would fain sit down 
 to meat or lie down to rest, will he care to re- 
 member that he takes this trouble for one who is 
 not fool enough to be ungrateful ? R. L. S. 
 SKERRYVORE, 
 
 BOURNEMOUTH.
 
 NOTE. 
 
 THE human conscience has fled of late the 
 troublesome domain of conduct for what I should 
 have supposed to be the less congenial field of 
 art : there she may now be said to rage, and with 
 special severity in all that touches dialect ; so 
 that in every novel the letters of the alphabet 
 are tortured, and the reader wearied, to com- 
 memorate shades of mispronunciation. Now, 
 spelling is an art of great difficulty in my eyes, 
 and I am inclined to lean upon the printer, even 
 in common practice, rather than to venture 
 abroad upon new quests. And the Scots tongue 
 has an orthography of its own, lacking neither 
 "authority nor author." Yet the temptation is 
 great to lend a little guidance to the bewildered 
 Englishman. Some simple phonetic artifice 
 might defend your verses from barbarous mis- 
 handling, and yet not injure any vested interest. 
 So it seems at first; but there are rocks ahead. 
 Thus, if I wish the diphthong ou to have its 
 proper value, I may write oor instead of our; 
 many have done so and lived, and the pillars of 
 the universe remained unshaken. But if I did 
 TI
 
 12 NOTE. 
 
 so, and came presently to doun, which is the 
 classical Scots spelling of the English down, I 
 should begin to feel uneasy; and if I went on a 
 little further and came to a classical Scots word, 
 like stonr or dour or clour, I should know pre- 
 cisely where I was that is to say, that I was out 
 of sight of land on those high seas of spelling 
 reform in which so many strong swimmers have 
 toiled vainly. To some the situation is exhil- 
 arating; as for me, I give one bubbling cry and 
 sink. The compromise at which I have arrived 
 is indefensible, and I have no thought of trying 
 to defend it. As I have stuck for the most part 
 to the proper spelling, I append a table of some 
 common vowel sounds which no one need con- 
 sult ; and just to prove that I belong to my age 
 and have in me the stuff of a reformer, I have 
 used modification marks throughout. Thus I 
 can tell myself, not without pride, that I have 
 added a fresh stumbling-block for English read- 
 ers, and to a page of print in my native tongue 
 have lent a new uncouthness. Sed non nobis. 
 
 I note again that among our new dialecticians 
 the local habitat of every dialect is given to the 
 square mile. I could not emulate this nicety if 
 I desired ; for I simply wrote my Scots as well 
 as I was able, not caring if it hailed from Laud-
 
 NOTE. 13 
 
 crdalc or Angus, from the Mearns or Galloway ; 
 if I had ever heard a good word, I used it with- 
 out shame; and when Scots was lacking, or the 
 rhyme jibbed, I was glad (like my betters) to 
 fall back on English. For all that, I own to a 
 friendly feeling for the tongue of Fergusson and 
 of Sir Walter, both Edinburgh men ; and I con- 
 fess that Burns has always -sounded in my ear 
 like something partly foreign. And indeed I 
 am from the Lothians myself; it is there I heard 
 the language spoken about my childhood ; and it 
 is in the drawling Lothian voice that I repeat it 
 to myself. Let the precisians call my speech 
 that of the Lothians. And if it be not pure, alas ! 
 what matters it? The day draws near when 
 this illustrious and malleable tongue shall be quite 
 forgotten; and Burns's, Ayrshire, and Dr. Mac- 
 donald's Aberdeen-awa', and Scott's brave, met- 
 ropolitan utterance will be all equally the ghosts 
 of speech. Till then I would love to have my 
 hour as a native Maker, and be read by my own 
 countryfolk in our own dying language : an am- 
 bition surely rather of the heart than of the 
 head, so restricted as it is in prospect of endur- 
 ance, so parochial in bounds of space.
 
 TO 
 
 Hlison Cunniiuinam. 
 
 FROM HER BOY. 
 
 For the long nights you lay awake 
 And watched for my unworthy sake: 
 For your most comfortable hand 
 That led me through the uneven land: 
 For all the story-books .you read: 
 For all the pains you comforted: 
 For all. you pitied, all you bore, 
 In sad and happy days of yore: 
 My second Mother, my first Wife, 
 The angel of my infant life 
 From the sick child, now well and old, 
 Take, nurse, the little book you hold! 
 
 And grant it, Heaven, that all who read 
 May find as dear a nurse at need, 
 And every child who lists my rhyme, 
 In the bright, fireside, nursery clime, 
 May near it in as kind a voice 
 As made my childish days rejoice! 
 
 R. L. S.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 To Alison Cunningham 3 
 
 I. Bed in Summer 9 
 
 II. A Thought 10 
 
 III. At the Sea-side n 
 
 IV. Young Night Thought 12 
 
 V. Whole Duty of Children 14 
 
 VI. Rain 15 
 
 VII. Pirate Story 16 
 
 VIII. Foreign Lands 18 
 
 IX. Windy Nights 20 
 
 X. Travel 21 
 
 XI. Singing 24 
 
 XII. Looking Forward 25 
 
 XIII. A Good Play , 26 
 
 XIV. Where Go the Boats? ' 27 
 
 XV. Auntie's Skirts 29 
 
 XVI. The Land of Counterpane 30 
 
 XVII. The Land of Nod 32 
 
 XVIII. My Shadow 34 
 
 XIX. System 36 
 
 XX. A Good Boy 37 
 
 5
 
 6 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER. PAGE. 
 
 XXI. Escape at .Bedtime 39 
 
 XXII. Marching Song 41 
 
 XXIII. The Cow 43 
 
 ' XXIV. Happy Thought 44 
 
 XXV. The Wind 45 
 
 XXVI. Keepsake Mill 47 
 
 XXVII. Good and Bad Children 49 
 
 XXVIII. Foreign Children 51 
 
 XXIX. The Sun's Travels 53 
 
 XXX. The Lamplighter 54 
 
 XXXI. My Bed Is a Boat 56 
 
 XXXII. The Moon 58 
 
 XXXIII. The Swing 59 
 
 XXXIV. Time to Rise 60 
 
 XXXV. Looking-glass River 61 
 
 XXXVI. Fairy Bread 63 
 
 XXXVII. From a Railway Carriage 64 
 
 XXXVIII. Winter-time 66 
 
 XXXIX. The Hayloft 68 
 
 XL. Farewell to the Farm 70 
 
 XLI. Northwest Passage 72 
 
 1. Good-night. 
 
 2. Shadow March. 
 
 3. In Port. 
 
 THE CHILD ALONE. 
 
 1. The Unseen Playmate 77 
 
 II. My Ship and 1 79
 
 CONTENTS. 7. 
 
 AFTER. PAGE. 
 
 III. My Kingdom 81 
 
 IV. Picture-books in Winter 83 
 
 V. My Treasures 85 
 
 VI. Block City 87 
 
 VII. The Land of Story-books 89 
 
 VIII. Annies in the Fire 91 
 
 IX. The Little Land 93 
 
 GARDEN DAYS. 
 
 I. Night and Day 99 
 
 II. Nest Eggs 102 
 
 III. The Flowers 104 
 
 IV. Summer Sun 106 
 
 V. The Dumb Soldier 108 
 
 VI. Autumn Fires in 
 
 VII. The Gardener 112 
 
 VIII. Historical Associations 114 
 
 ENVOYS. 
 
 I. To Willie and Henrietta 119 
 
 II. To My Mother 121 
 
 III. To Auntie 122 
 
 IV. To Minnie 123 
 
 V. To My Name-child 127 
 
 VI. To Any Reader 130
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OP VERSES. 
 
 i. 
 
 BED IN SUMMER. 
 
 In winter I get up at night 
 And dress by yellow candle-light. 
 In summer, quite the other way, 
 I have to go to bed by day. 
 
 t 
 
 I have to go to bed and see 
 
 The birds still hopping on the tree, 
 Or hear the grown-up people's feet 
 Still going past me in the street. 
 
 And does it not seem hard to you, 
 When all the sky is clear and blue, 
 And I should like so much to play, 
 To have to go to bed by day? 
 9
 
 10 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 II. 
 i 
 
 A THOUGHT. 
 
 It is very nice to think 
 The world is full of meat and drink, 
 With little children saying- grace 
 In every Christian kind of place.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 11 
 
 III. 
 
 AT THE SEA-SIDE. 
 
 When I was down beside the sea 
 A wooden spade they gave to me 
 To dig the sandy shore. 
 
 My holes were empty like a cup. 
 
 In every hole the sea came up, 
 
 Till it oould come no more.
 
 12 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 IV. 
 YOUNG NIGHT THOUGHT. 
 
 All night long and every night, 
 When my mama puts out the light, 
 I see the people marching by, 
 As plain as day. before my eye. 
 
 Armies and emperors and kings, 
 All carrying different kinds of things, 
 And marching in so grand a way, 
 You never saw the like by day. 
 
 So fine a show was never seen 
 At the great circus on the green; 
 For every kind of beast and man 
 Is marching in that caravan.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 13 
 
 At first they move a little slow, 
 But still the faster on they go, 
 And still beside them close I keep 
 Until we reach the town of Sleep.
 
 11 A CHILD S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 V. 
 WHOLE DUTY OF CHILDREN. 
 
 A child should always say what's true 
 And speak when he is spoken to, 
 And behave mannerly at table; 
 At least as far as he is able.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 15 
 
 VI. 
 RAIN. 
 
 The rain is raining all around, 
 It falls on field and tree, 
 
 It rains on the umbrellas here, 
 And on the ships at sea.
 
 Iti A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 VII. 
 PIRATE STORY. 
 
 Three of us afloat in the meadow by the swing, 
 
 Three of us aboard in the basket on the lea. 
 
 Winds are in the air. they are blowing in the 
 
 spring, 
 
 And waves are on the meadow like the waves 
 there are at sea. 
 
 Where shall we adventure, to-day that we're 
 
 afloat, 
 
 Wary of the weather and steering by a star? 
 Shall it be to Africa, a-steering of the boat, 
 To Providence, or Babylon, or off to Mal- 
 abar? 
 
 Hi! but here's a squadron a-rowing on the 
 
 sea 
 
 Cattle on the meadow a-charging with a 
 roar!
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 17 
 
 Quick, and we'll escape them, they're as mad 
 
 as they can be, 
 
 The wicket is the harbor, and the garden is 
 the shore. 
 
 2 Verses
 
 18 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Up into the cherry tree 
 
 Who should climb but little me? 
 
 I held the trunk with both my hands 
 
 And looked abroad on foreign lands. 
 
 1 saw the next door garden lie, 
 Adorned with flowers, before my eye, 
 And many pleasant places more 
 That I had never seen before. 
 
 I saw the dimpling river pass 
 And be the sky's blue looking-glass; 
 The dusty roads go up and down 
 With people tramping in to town. 
 
 If I could find a higher tree 
 Farther and farther I should see,
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 19 
 
 To where the grown-up river slips 
 Into the sea among the ships, 
 
 To where the roads on either hand 
 Lead onward into fairy-land, 
 Where all the children dine at five, 
 And all the playthings come alive.
 
 L'O A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 IX. 
 
 WINDY NIGHTS. 
 
 Whenever the moon and stars are set, 
 
 Whenever the wind is high, 
 All night long in the dark and wet, 
 
 A man goes riding by. 
 Late in the night when the fires are out, 
 Why does he gallop and gallop about? 
 
 Whenever the trees are crying aloud, 
 
 And ships are tossed at sea, 
 By, on the highway, low and loud, 
 
 By at the gallop goes he. 
 By at the gallop he goes, and then 
 By he comes back at the gallop again.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN Oi ; VERSES. l! 
 
 X. 
 
 TRAVEL. 
 
 I should like to rise and go 
 
 Where the golden apples grow; 
 
 Where below another sky 
 
 Parrot islands anchored lie, 
 
 And, watched by cockatoos and goats, 
 
 Lonely Crusoes building boats; 
 
 Where in sunshine reaching out 
 
 Eastern cities, miles about, 
 
 Are with mosque and minaret 
 
 Among sandy gardens set, 
 
 And the rich goods from near and far 
 
 Hang for sale in the bazaar; 
 
 Where the Great Wall round China goes, 
 
 And on one side the desert blows, 
 
 And with bell and voice and drum, 
 
 Cities on the other hum ; 
 
 Where are forests, hot as fire, 
 
 Wide as England, tall as a spire,
 
 22 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 Full of apes and cocoa-nuts 
 And the negro hunters' huts; 
 Where the knotty crocodile 
 Lies and blinks in the Nile, 
 And the red flamingo flies 
 Hunting fish before his eyes; 
 Where in jungles, near and far, 
 
 Man-devouring tigers are, 
 
 
 Lying close and giving ear 
 
 Lest the hunt be drawing near, 
 Or a comer-by be seen 
 Swinging in a palanquin ; 
 Where among the desert sands 
 Some deserted city stands, 
 All its children, sweep and prince, 
 Grown to manhood ages since, 
 Not a foot in street or house, 
 Not a stir of child or mouse, 
 And when kindly falls the night, 
 In all the town no spark of light. 
 There I'll come when I'm a man 
 With a camel caravan; 
 Light a fire in the gloom 
 Of some dusty jning-room ;
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 See the pictures on the walls, 
 Heroes, fights and festivals; 
 And in a corner find the toys 
 Of the old Egyptian boys.
 
 24 A CHILD S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 XL 
 SINGING. 
 
 Of speckled eggs the birdie sings 
 And nests among the trees; 
 
 The sailor sings of ropes and things 
 In ships upon the seas. 
 
 The children sing in far Japan, 
 The children sing in Spain; 
 
 The organ with the organ man 
 Is singing in the rain.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 XII. 
 LOOKING FORWARD. 
 
 When I am grown to man's estate 
 I shall be very proud and great, 
 And tell the other girls and boys 
 Not to meddle with my toys.
 
 26 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 XIII. 
 A GOOD PLAY. 
 
 We built a ship upon the stairs 
 All made qf the back-bedroom chairs, 
 And filled it full of sofa pillows 
 To go a-sailmg on the billows. 
 
 We took a saw and several nails, 
 And water in the nursery pails; 
 And Tom said, "Let us also take 
 An apple and a slice of cake;" 
 Which was enough for Tom and me 
 To go a-sailing on, till tea. 
 
 We sailed along for days and days, 
 And had the very best of plays ; 
 But Tom fell out and hurt his knee, 
 So there was no one left but me.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 27 
 
 XIV. 
 WHERE GO THE BOATS? 
 
 Dark brown is the river, 
 
 Golden is the sand. 
 It. flows along forever, 
 
 'With trees on either hand. 
 
 Green leaves a-floating, 
 
 Castles of the foam, 
 Boats of mine a-boating 
 
 Where will all come home? 
 
 On goes the river 
 
 And out past the mill, 
 
 Away down the valley, 
 Away down the hill.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 Away down the river, 
 A hundred miles or more, 
 
 Other little children 
 
 Shall bring my boats ashore.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 XV. 
 
 AUNTIE'S SKIRTS. 
 
 Whenever Auntie moves around, 
 Her dresses make a curious sound, 
 They trail behind her up the floor, 
 And trundle after through the door.
 
 30 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 XVI. 
 THE LAND OF COUNTERPANE. 
 
 When I was sick and lay a-bed, 
 1 had two pillows at my head, 
 And all my toys beside me lay 
 To keep me happy all the day. 
 
 And sometimes for an hour or so, 
 I watched my leaden soldiers go, 
 With different uniforms and drills, 
 Among the bed-clothes, through the hills; 
 
 And sometimes sent my ships in fleets 
 All up and down among the sheets; 
 Or brought my trees and houses out, 
 And planted cities all about.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 31 
 
 I was the giant great and still 
 That sits upon the pillow-hill, 
 And sees before him, dale and plain, 
 The pleasant land of counterpane.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 XVII. 
 THE LAND OF NOD. 
 
 From breakfast on through all the day 
 At home among my friends I stay, 
 But every night I go abroad 
 Afar into the land of Nod. 
 
 All by myself I have to go, 
 
 With none to tell me what to do 
 
 All alone beside the streams 
 
 And up the mountain-sides of dreams. 
 
 The strangest things are there for me, 
 Both things to eat and things to see, 
 And many frightening sights abroad 
 Till morning in the land of Nod.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN' OF VERSES. 
 
 Try as I like to find the way, 
 I never can get back by day, 
 Nor can remember plain and clear' 
 The curious music that I hear. 
 
 Verses
 
 34 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 MY SHADOW. 
 
 I have a little shadow that goes in and out 
 
 with me, 
 And what can be the use of him is more than 
 
 1 can see. 
 He is very, very like me from the heels up to 
 
 the head ; 
 And I see him jump before me, when I jump 
 
 into my bed. 
 
 The funniest thing about him is the way he 
 likes to grow 
 
 Not at all like proper children, which is always 
 very slow ; 
 
 For he sometimes shoots up taller, like an india- 
 rubber ball, 
 
 And he sometimes gets so little that there's 
 none of hrm at all
 
 "Minnie." 
 
 Child's Garden of Verses.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 35 
 
 He hasn't got a notion of how children ought 
 
 to play, 
 And can only make a fool of me in every sort 
 
 of way. 
 He stays so close beside me, he's a coward you 
 
 can see ; 
 I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that 
 
 shadow sticks to me ! 
 
 One morning, very early, before the sun was 
 
 up, 
 I rose and found the shining dew on every 
 
 buttercup ; 
 But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant 
 
 sleepy-head, 
 Had stayed at home behind me and was fast 
 
 asleep in bed.
 
 .'JO A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 XIX. 
 SYSTEM. 
 
 Every night my prayers I say, 
 And get my dinner every day; 
 And every day that I've been good, 
 I get an orange after food. 
 
 The child that is not clean and neat 
 With lots of toys and things to eat, 
 He is a naughty child, I'm sure 
 Or else his dear papa is poor.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 37 
 
 XX. 
 A GOOD BOY. 
 
 I woke before the morning, I was happy all 
 
 the day, 
 I never said an ugly word, but smiled and 
 
 stuck to play. 
 
 And now at last the sun is going down behind 
 
 the wood, 
 And I am very happy, for I know that I've 
 
 been good. 
 
 My bed is waiting cool and fresh, with linen 
 
 smooth and fair, 
 And I must off to sleepsin-by, and not forget 
 
 my prayer.
 
 38 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 I know that, till to-morrow I shall see the sun 
 
 arise, 
 No ugly dream shall fright my mind, no ugly 
 
 sight my eyes. 
 
 But slumber hold me tightly till I waken in 
 
 the dawn, 
 And hear the thrushes singing in the lilacs 
 
 round the lawn.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 39 
 
 XXI. 
 
 I 
 
 ESCAPE AT BEDTIME. 
 
 The lights from the parlor and kitchen shone 
 
 out 
 Through the blinds and the windows and 
 
 bars; 
 And high overhead and all moving about, 
 
 There were thousands of millions of stars. 
 There ne'er were such thousands of leaves on 
 
 a tree, 
 
 Nor of people in church or the Park, 
 As the crowds of the stars that looked down 
 
 upon me, 
 And that glittered and winked in the dark. 
 
 The Dog, and the Plough, and the Hunter, 
 
 and all, 
 And the star of the sailor, and Mars,
 
 40 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 These shone in the sky, and the pail by the 
 
 wall 
 
 Would be half full of water and stars. 
 They saw me at last, and they chased me with 
 
 cries, 
 
 And they soon had me packed into bed ; 
 But the glory kept shining and bright in my 
 
 eyes, 
 And the stars going round in my head.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 41 
 
 XXII. 
 MARCHING SONG. 
 
 Bring the comb and play upon it! 
 
 Marching, here we come: 
 Willie cocks his Highland bonnet, 
 
 Johnnie beats the drum. 
 
 Mary Jane commands the party, 
 
 Peter leads the rear; 
 Feet in time, alert and hearty. 
 
 Each a Grenadier! 
 
 All in the most martial mamner 
 Marching double-quick; 
 
 While the napkin like a banner 
 Waves upon the stick!
 
 42 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 Here's enough of fame and pillage, 
 
 Great commander Jane! 
 Now that we've been round the village, 
 
 Let's g6 home again.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 43 
 
 XXIII. 
 THE COW. 
 
 The friendly cow all red and white, 
 
 I love with all my heart: 
 She gives me cream with all her might, 
 
 To eat with apple-tart 
 
 She wanders lowing here and there, 
 
 And yet she cannot stray, 
 All in the pleasant open air, 
 The pleasant light of day; 
 
 And blown by all the winds that pass 
 And wet with all the showers, 
 
 She walks among the meadow grass 
 And eats the meadow flowers.
 
 44 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 XXIV. 
 HAPPY THOUGHT. 
 
 The world is so full of a number of things, 
 I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 4o 
 
 XXV. 
 THE WIND. 
 
 I saw you toss the kites on high 
 And blow the birds about the sky ; 
 And all around I heard you pass, 
 Like ladies' skirts across the grass 
 O wind, a-blowing all day long, 
 O wind, that sings so loud a song! 
 
 I saw the different things you did, 
 But always you yourself you hid. 
 I felt you push, I heard you call, 
 I could not see yourself at all 
 O wind, a-blowing all day long, 
 O wind, that sings so loud a song! 
 
 O you that are so strong and cold, 
 O blower, are you young or old?
 
 46 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 Are you a beast of field and tree, 
 Or just a stronger child than me? 
 O wind, a-blowing all day long, 
 O wind, that sings so loud a song!
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 47 
 
 XXVI. 
 KEEPSAKE MILL. 
 
 Over the borders, a sin without pardon, 
 
 Breaking the branches and crawling below, 
 
 Out through the breach in the wall of the 
 
 garden, 
 Down by the banks of the river, we go. 
 
 Here is the mill with the humming of thunder, 
 Here is the weir with the wonder of foam, 
 
 Here is the sluice with the race running 
 
 under 
 Marvelous places, though handy to home ! 
 
 Sounds of the village grow stiller and stiller, 
 Stiller the note of the birds on the hill; 
 
 Dusty and dim are the eyes of the miller, 
 Deal are his ears with the moil of the mill.
 
 48 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 Years may go by, and the wheel in the river 
 Wheel as it wheels for us, children, to-day, 
 
 Wheel and keep roaring and foaming forever 
 Long after all of the boys are away. 
 
 Home from the Indies and home from the 
 ocean, 
 
 Heroes and soldiers we all shall come home ; 
 Still we shall find the old mill wheel in motion, 
 
 Turning and churning that river to foam. 
 
 You with the bean that I gave when we quar- 
 reled, 
 
 1 with your marble of Saturday last, 
 Honored and old and all gaily appareled, 
 
 Here we shall meet and remember the past.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 49 
 
 XXVII. 
 GOOD AND BAD CHILDREN. 
 
 Children, you are very little, 
 And your bones are very brittle ; 
 If you would grow great and stately, 
 You must try to walk sedately. 
 
 You must still be bright and quiet, 
 And content with simple diet; 
 And remain, through all bewild'ring, 
 Innocent and honest children. 
 
 Happy hearts and happy faces, 
 Happy play in grassy places 
 That was how, in ancient ages, 
 Children grew to kings and sages. 
 
 Verses
 
 50 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 But the unkind and the unruly, 
 And the sort who eat unduly, 
 They must never hope for glory 
 Theirs is quite a different story! 
 
 Cruel children, crying babies, 
 All <jrow up as geese and gabies. 
 Hated, as their age increases, 
 By their nephews and their nieces.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 FOREIGN CHILDREN. 
 
 Little Indian, Sioux or Crow, 
 
 Little frosty Eskimo, 
 
 Little Turk or Japanee, 
 
 O! don't you wish that you were me? 
 
 You have seen the scarlet trees 
 And the lions over seas; 
 You have eaten ostrich eggs, 
 And turned the turtles off their legs. 
 
 Such a life is very fine, 
 But it's not so nice as mine: 
 You must often, as you trod, 
 Have wearied not to be abroad.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 You have curious things to eat, 
 I am fed on proper meat ; 
 You must dwell beyond the foam, 
 But I am safe and live at home. 
 
 Little Indian, Sioux or Crow, 
 
 Little frosty Eskimo, 
 
 Little Turk or Japanee, 
 
 O! don't you wish that you were me?
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 XXIX. 
 THE SUN'S TRAVELS. 
 
 The sun is not a-bed, when I 
 
 At night upon my pillow lie; 
 
 Still round the earth his way he takes, 
 
 And morning after morning- makes. 
 
 While here at home, in shining day, 
 We round the sunny garden play, 
 Each little Indian sleepy-head 
 Is being kissed and put to bed. 
 
 And when at eve I rise from tea, 
 Day dawns beyond the Atlantic Sea; 
 And all the children in the West 
 Are getting up and being dressed.
 
 54 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 THE LAMPLIGHTER. 
 
 My tea is nearly ready and the sun has left the 
 
 sky; 
 It's time to take the window to see Leerie 
 
 going by; 
 For every night at tea-time and before you take 
 
 your seat, 
 With lantern and with ladder he comes posting 
 
 up the street. 
 
 Now Tom would be a driver and Maria go to 
 
 sea, 
 And my papa's a banker and as rich as he can 
 
 be; 
 But I, when 1 am stronger and can choose 
 
 what I'm to do, 
 O Leerie, I'll go round at night and light the 
 
 lamps with you!
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 55 
 
 For we are very lucky, with a lamp before the 
 door, 
 
 And Leerie stops to light it as he lights so 
 many more ; 
 
 And O ! before you hurry by with ladder and 
 with light; 
 
 O Leerie, see a little child and nod to him to- 
 night!
 
 56 A CHILD S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 / 
 
 MY BED IS A BOAT. 
 
 My bed is like a little boat; 
 
 Nurse helps me in when I embark; 
 She girds me in my sailor's coat 
 
 And starts me in the dark. 
 
 At night, I go on board and say 
 
 Good-night to all my friends on shore; 
 
 I shut my eyes and sail away 
 And see and hear no more. 
 
 And sometimes things to bed I take, 
 As prudent sailors have to do ; 
 
 Perhaps a slice of wedding-cake, 
 Perhaps a toy or two.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN Ol VKRSES. 
 
 All night across the dark we steer, 
 But when the day returns at last, 
 
 Safe in my room, beside the pier, 
 I find ray vessel fast.
 
 58 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 XXXII. 
 THE MOON. 
 
 The moon has a face like the clock in the hall 
 She shines on thieves on the garden wall, 
 On streets and fields and harbor quays, 
 And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees. 
 
 The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse, 
 The howling dog by the door of the house, 
 The bat that lies in bed at noon, 
 All love to be out by the light of the moon. 
 
 But all of the things that belong to the day 
 Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way; 
 And flowers and children close their eyes 
 Till up in the morning the sun shall arise.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 59 
 
 XXXIII. 
 THE SWING. 
 
 How do you like to go up in a swing, 
 
 Up in the air so blue? 
 Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing 
 
 Ever a child can do! 
 
 Up in the air and over the wall, 
 
 Till I can see so wide, 
 Rivers and trees and cattle and all 
 
 Over the countryside 
 
 Till I look down on the garden green. 
 
 Down on the roof so brown 
 Up in the air I go flying again, 
 
 Up in the air and down!
 
 60 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 TIME TO RISE. 
 
 A birdie with a yellow bill 
 Hopped upon the window sill, 
 Cocked his shining eye and said : 
 "Ain't you 'shamed, you sleepy-head!'
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 61 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 LOOKING-GLASS RIVER. 
 
 Smooth it slides upon its travel, 
 Here a wimple, there a gleam- 
 O the clean gravel! 
 O the smooth stream! 
 
 Sailing blossoms, silver fishes, 
 Paven pools as clear as air 
 How a child wishes 
 To live down there! 
 
 We can see our colored faces 
 Floating on the shaken pool 
 Down in cool places, 
 Dim and very cool ;
 
 62 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 Till a wind or water wrinkle, 
 
 Dipping marten, plumping trout, 
 Spreads in a twinkle 
 And blots all out. 
 
 See the rings pursue each other ; 
 All below grows black as night, 
 Just as if mother 
 Had blown out the light! 
 
 Patience, children, just a minute 
 See the spreading circles die ; 
 The stream and all in it 
 Will clear by-and-by.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 FAIRY BREAD. 
 
 Come up here, O dusty feet! 
 Here is fairy bread to eat. 
 Here in my retiring room, 
 
 Children, you may dine 
 On the golden smell of broom 
 
 And the shade of pine ; 
 And when you have eaten well, 
 Fairy_stories hear and tell.
 
 04 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 FROM A RAILWAY CARRIAGE. 
 
 Faster than fairies, faster than witches, 
 Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches; 
 And charging along like troops in a battle, 
 All through the meadows the horses and 
 
 cattle: 
 
 All of the sights of the hill and the plain 
 Fly as thick as driving rain ; 
 And ever again, in the wink of an eye, 
 Painted stations whistle by. 
 
 Here is a child who clambers and scrambles, 
 All by himself and gathering brambles; 
 Here is a tramp who stands and gazes; 
 And there is the green for stringing the 
 
 daisies! 
 Here is a cart run away in the road
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 65 
 
 Lumping along with man and load; 
 And here is a mill and there is a river.- 
 Each a glimpse and gone forever! 
 
 5 Verses
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 WINTER-TIME. 
 
 Late lies the wintry sun a-bed, 
 A frosty, fiery sleepy-head ; 
 Blinks but an hour or two ; and then, 
 A blood-red orange, sets again. 
 
 Before the stars have left the skies, 
 At morning in the dark I rise ; 
 And shivering in my nakedness, 
 By the cold candle, bathe and dress. 
 
 Close by the jolly fire I sit 
 To warm my frozen bones a bit ; 
 Or with a reindeer-sled, explore 
 The colder countries round the door.
 
 "Willie and Henrietta.' 
 
 Child's Garden of Verses.
 
 A CHILD'S -GARDEN OF VERSES. 67 
 
 When to go out, my nurse doth wrap 
 Me in my comforter and cap ; 
 The cold wind burns my face, and blows 
 Its frosty pepper up my nose. 
 
 Black are my steps on silver sod ; 
 Thick blows my frosty breath abroad; 
 And tree and house, and hill and lake, 
 Are frosted like a wedding-cake.
 
 68 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES 
 
 XXXIX. 
 THE HAYLOFT. 
 
 Through all the pleasant meadow-side 
 
 The grass grew shoulder-high. 
 Till the shining scythes went far and wide 
 
 And cut it down to dry. 
 
 These green and sweetly smelling crops 
 
 They led in wagons home; 
 And they piled them here in mountain tops 
 
 For mountaineers to roam. 
 
 Here is Mount Clear, Mount Rusty-Nail, 
 Mount Eagle and Mount High ; 
 
 The mice that in these mountains dwell, 
 No happier are than 1 !
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 69 
 
 i 
 
 O what a joy to clamber there 
 
 O what a place for play, 
 With the sweet, the dim, the dusty air, 
 
 The happy hills of hay!
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 XL. 
 
 FAREWELL TO THE FARM 
 
 The coach is at the door at last ; 
 The eager children, mounting fast 
 And kissing hands, in chorus sing; 
 Good-bye, good-bye, to everything! 
 
 To house and garden, field and lawa, 
 The meadow-gates we swang upon, 
 To pump and stable, tree and swing, 
 Good-bye, good-bye, to everything! 
 
 And fare you well for evermore, 
 O ladder at the hayloft door, 
 O hayloft where the cobwebs clinir 
 Good-bye, good-bye, to everything]
 
 A CHILD S GARDEN OF VERSES. 71 
 
 Crack goes the whip, and off we go; 
 The trees and houses smaller grow; 
 Last, round the woody turn we swing; 
 Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!
 
 72 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 XLI. 
 NORTHWEST PASSAGE. 
 
 I. GOOD-NIGHT. 
 
 When the bright lamp is carried in, 
 The sunless hours again begin; 
 O'er all without, in field and lane, 
 The haunted night returns again. 
 
 Now we behold the embers flee 
 About the firelit hearth ; and see 
 Our pictures painted as we pass, 
 Like pictures on the window-glass. 
 
 Must we to bed indeed? Well then, 
 Let us arise and go like men. 
 And face with an undaunted tread 
 The long, black passage up to bed.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 73 
 
 Farewell, O brother, sister, sire! 
 O pleasant party round the fire ! 
 The songs you sing, the tales you tell, 
 Till far to-morrow, fare ye well ! 
 
 II. SHADOW MARCH. 
 
 A.11 round the house is the jet-black night; 
 
 It stares through the window-pane ; 
 It crawls in the corners, hiding from the light, 
 
 And it moves with the moving flame. 
 
 Now my little heart goes a-beating like a 
 
 drum, 
 
 With the breath of Bogie in my hair, 
 And all round the candle the crooked shadows 
 
 come, 
 And go marching along up the stair. 
 
 The shadow of the balusters, the shadow of 
 
 the lamp, 
 
 The shadow of the child that goes to bed 
 All the wicked shadows coming, tramp, tramp, 
 
 tramp, 
 With the black night overhead.
 
 74 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 III. IN PORT. 
 
 Last, to the chamber where I lie 
 My fearful footsteps patter nigh, 
 And come from out the cold and gloom 
 Into my warm and cheerful room. 
 
 There, safe arrived, we turn about 
 To keep the coming shadows out, 
 And close the happy door at last 
 On all the perils that we past. 
 
 Then, when mamma goes by to bed, 
 She shall come in with tip-toe tread, 
 And see me lying warm and fast 
 And in the Land of Nod at last.
 
 THE CHILD ALONE. 
 
 Page 76 verses.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 77 
 
 I. 
 
 i 
 
 THE UNSEEN PLAYMATE. 
 
 When children are playing alone on the green, 
 In comes the playmate that never was seen. 
 When children are happy and lonely and good, 
 The Friend of the Children comes out of the 
 wood. 
 
 Nobody heard him and nobody saw, 
 
 His is a picture you never could draw, 
 
 But he's sure to be present, abroad or at home, 
 
 When children are happy and playing alone. 
 
 \ 
 
 He lies in the laurels, he runs on the grass, 
 He sings when you tinkle the musical glass; 
 Whene'er you are happy and cannot tell why, 
 The Friend of the Children is sure to be by!
 
 78 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 He loves to be little, he hates to be big, 
 'Tis he that inhabits the caves that you dig; 
 'Tis he when you play with your soldiers of tin 
 That sides with the Frenchmen and never can 
 win. 
 
 'Tis he, when at night you go off to your bed, 
 
 Bids you go to your sleep and not trouble your 
 head; 
 
 For wherever they're lying, in cupboard or 
 shelf, 
 
 'Tis he will take care of your playthings him- 
 self!
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 79 
 
 II. 
 MY SHIP AND I. 
 
 O it's I that am the captain of a tidy little 
 
 ship, 
 
 Of a ship that goes a-sailing on the pond ; 
 And my ship it keeps a-turning all around and 
 
 all about; 
 But when I'm a little older, I shall find the 
 
 secret out 
 How to send my vessel sailing on beyond. 
 
 For I mean to grow as little as the dolly at 
 
 the helm, 
 
 And the dolly I intend to come alive; 
 And with him beside to help me, it's a-sailing 
 
 I shall go, 
 It's a-sailing on the water, when the jolly 
 
 breezes blow 
 And the vessel goes a divie-divie-dive.
 
 t 
 SO A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 O it's then you'll see me sailing through the 
 
 rushes and the reeds, 
 And you'll hear the water singing at the 
 
 prow; 
 For beside the dolly sailor, I'm to voyage and 
 
 explore, 
 To land upon the island where no dolly was 
 
 before, 
 And to fire the penny cannon in the bow.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 81 
 
 III. 
 MY KINGDOM. 
 
 Down by a shining water well 
 I found a very little dell, 
 
 No higher than my head. 
 The heather and the gorse about 
 In summer bloom were coming out, 
 
 Some yellow and some red. 
 
 I called the little pool a sea; 
 
 The little hills were big to me; 
 For 1 am very small, 
 made a boat, I made a town, 
 searched the caverns up and down, 
 And named them one and all. 
 
 And all about was mine, I said, 
 The little sparrows overhead, 
 The little minnows too. 
 
 6 Verses
 
 82 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 This was the world and I was king ; 
 For me the bees came by to sing, 
 For me the swallows flew. 
 
 I played there were no deeper seas, 
 Nor any wider plains than these, 
 
 Nor other kings than me. 
 At last I heard my mother call 
 Out from the house at evenfall, 
 
 To call me home to tea. 
 
 And I must rise and leave my dell, 
 And leave my dimpled water well, 
 
 And leave my heather blooms. 
 Alas! and as my home I neared, 
 How very big my nurse appeared, 
 
 How great and cool the rooms!
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 83 
 
 IV. 
 PICTURE-BOOKS IN WINTER. 
 
 Summer fading, winter comes 
 Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs, 
 Window robins, winter rooks, 
 And the picture story-books. 
 
 Water now is turned to stone 
 Nurse and I can walk upon ; 
 Still we find the flowing brooks 
 In the picture story-books. 
 
 All the pretty things put by, 
 Wait upon the children's eye, 
 Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks, 
 In the picture story-books.
 
 84 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 We may see how all things are, 
 Seas and cities, near and far, 
 And the flying fairies' looks, 
 In the picture story-books. 
 
 How am I to sing your praise, 
 Happy chimney-corner days, 
 Sitting safe in nursery nooks, 
 Reading picture story-books?
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN Ui- VERSES. 85 
 
 V. 
 MY TREASURES. 
 
 These nuts, that I keep in the back of the nest 
 Where all my lead soldiers are lying at rest, 
 Were gathered in autumn by nursie and me 
 In a wood with a well by the side of the sea. 
 
 This whistle we made (and how clearly it 
 
 sounds !) 
 
 By the side of . field at the end of the grounds. 
 Of a branch of a plane, with a knife of my 
 
 own, 
 It was nursie who made it, and nursie alone! 
 
 The stone, with the white and the yellow and 
 
 We discovered I cannot tell how far away ; 
 And I carried it back although weary and cold, 
 For though father denies it, I'm sure it is gold.
 
 i A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 But of all my treasures the last is the king, 
 For there's very few children possess such a 
 
 thing ; 
 
 And that is a chisel, both handle and blade, 
 Which a man who was really a carpenter made.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN. UE VERSES. 
 
 VI. 
 BLOCK CITY. 
 
 What are you able to build with your blocks? 
 Castles and palaces, temples and docks. 
 Rain may keep raining, and others go roam, 
 But I can be happy and building at home. 
 
 Let the sofa be mountains, the carpet be sea, 
 There I'll establish a city for me: 
 A kirk and a mill and a palace beside, 
 And a harbor as well where my vessels may 
 ride. 
 
 Great is the palace with pillar and wall, 
 A sort of a tower on the top of it all, 
 And steps coining down in an orderly way 
 To where my toy vessels lie safe in the bay.
 
 8 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 This one is sailing and that one is moored: 
 Hark to the song of the sailors on board! 
 And see on the steps of my palace, the kings 
 Coming and going with presents and things 
 
 Now I have done with it, down let it go! 
 All in a moment the town is laid low. 
 Block upon block lying scattered and free, 
 What is there left of my town by the sea? 
 
 Yet as I saw it, I see it again, 
 
 The kirk and the palace, the ships and the 
 
 men, 
 
 And as long as I live and where'er I may be, 
 I'll always remember my town by the sea.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 89 
 
 VII. 
 THE LAND OF STORY-BOOKS. 
 
 At evening when the lamp is lit, 
 Around the fire my parents sit ; 
 They sit at home and talk and sing, 
 And do not play at anything. 
 
 Now, with my little gun, I crawl 
 All in the dark along the wall, 
 And follow round the forest track 
 Away behind the sofa back. 
 
 There, in the night, where none can spy, 
 All in my hunter's camp 1 lie, 
 And play at books that I have read 
 Till it is time to go to bed. 
 
 These are the hills, these are the woods, 
 These are my starry solitudes;
 
 90 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 And there the river by whose brink 
 The roaring lions come to drink. 
 
 I see the others far away, 
 As if in firelit camp they lay, 
 And I, like to an Indian scout, 
 Around their party prowled about. 
 
 So, when my nurse comes in for me, 
 Home I return across the sea, 
 And go to bed with backward looks 
 At my dear land of Story-books.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 91 
 
 VIII. 
 ARMIES IN THE FIRE. 
 
 The lamps now glitter down the street; 
 Faintly sound the falling feet; 
 And the blue even slowly falls 
 About the garden trees and walls. 
 
 Now in the falling of the gloom 
 The red fire paints the empty room; 
 And warmly on the roof it looks, 
 And flickers on the backs of books. 
 
 Armies march by tower and spire 
 Of cities blazing, in the fire; 
 Till as I gaze with staring eyes, 
 The armies fade, the luster dies.
 
 92 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 Then once again the glow returns; 
 Again the phantom city burns; 
 And down the red-hot valley, lo! 
 The phantom armies marching go! 
 
 Blinking embers, tell me true 
 Where are those armies marching to, 
 And what the burning city is 
 That crumbles in vour furnaces!
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 93 
 
 IX. 
 THE LITTLE LAND. 
 
 When at home alone I sit 
 And am very tired of it, 
 I have just to shut my eyes 
 To go sailing through the skies- 
 To go sailing far away 
 To the pleasant Land of Play; 
 To the fairy-land afar 
 Where the Little People are; 
 Where the clover-tops are trees, 
 And the rain- pools are the seas, 
 And the leaves like little ships 
 Sail about on tiny trips; 
 And above the daisy tree 
 
 Through the grasses, 
 High o'erhead the Bumble Bee 
 
 Hums and passes.
 
 94 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 In that forest to and fro 
 
 I can wander, I can go ; 
 
 See the spider and the fly, 
 
 And the ants go marching by 
 
 Carrying parcels with their feet 
 
 Down the green and grassy street. 
 
 I can in the sorrel sit 
 
 Where the ladybird alit. 
 
 I can climb the jointed grass 
 
 And on high 
 See the greater swallows pass 
 
 In the sky, 
 
 And the round sun rolling by 
 Heeding no such things as I. 
 
 Through that forest I can pass 
 Till, as in a looking-glass, 
 Humming fly and daisy tree 
 And my tiny self I see, 
 Painted very clear and neat 
 On the rain-pool at my feet. 
 Should a leaflet come to land 
 Drifting near to where I stand,
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 95 
 
 Straight I'll board that tiny boat 
 
 Round the rain- pool sea to float. 
 
 Little thoughtful creatures sit 
 
 On the grassy coasts of it ; 
 
 Little things with lovely eyes 
 
 See me sailing with surprise. i 
 
 Some are clad in armor green 
 
 (These have sure to battle been ') 
 
 Some are pied with ev'ry hue, 
 
 Black and crimson, gold and blue ; 
 
 Some have wings and swift are gone; 
 
 But they all look kindly on. 
 
 When my eyes I once again 
 Open, and see all things plain : 
 High bare walls, great bare floor; 
 Great big knobs on drawer and door; 
 Great big people perched on chairs, 
 Stitching tucks and mending tears, 
 Each a hill that I could climb, 
 And talking nonsense all the time 
 
 O dear me, 
 
 That I could be
 
 96 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 A sailor on the rain- pool sea, 
 A climber in the clover tree, 
 And just come back, a sleepy-head, 
 Late at night to go to bed.
 
 GARDEN DAYS. 
 
 7 Verses
 
 A CHILD S GARDEN OF VERSES. 99 
 
 NIGHT AND DAY. 
 
 When the golden day is done, 
 Through the closing portal, 
 
 Child and garden, flower and sun, 
 Vanish all things mortal. 
 
 As the blinding shadows fall 
 
 As the rays diminish, 
 Under evening's cloak, they all 
 
 Roll away and vanish. 
 
 Garden darkened, daisy shut, 
 Child in bed, they slumber 
 
 Glow-worm in the highway rut, 
 Mice among the lumber.
 
 100 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 In the darkness houses shine, 
 Parents move with candles ; 
 
 Till on all, the night divine 
 Turns the bedroom handles. 
 
 Till at last the day begins 
 
 In the east a-breaking, 
 In the hedges and the whins 
 
 Sleeping birds a-waking. 
 
 In the darkness shapes of things, 
 Houses, trees and hedges, 
 
 Clearer grow: and sparrow's wings 
 Beat on window ledges. 
 
 These shall wake the yawning maid; 
 
 She the door shall open 
 Finding dew on garden glade 
 
 And the morning broken. 
 
 There my garden grows again 
 
 Green and rosy painted, 
 As at eve behind the pane 
 
 From my eyes it fainted.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 101 
 
 Just as it was shut away, 
 
 Toy-like in the even, 
 Here I see it glow with day 
 
 Under glowing heaven. 
 
 Every path and every plot, 
 
 Every bush of roses, 
 Every blue forget-me-not 
 
 Where the dew reposes. 
 
 "Up'" they cry, "the day is come 
 
 On the smiling valleys: 
 We have beat the morning drum ; 
 
 Playmate, join your allies!"
 
 102 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 II. 
 NEST EGGS. 
 
 Birds all the sunny day 
 
 Flutter and quarrel 
 Here in the arbor-like 
 
 Tent of the laurel. 
 
 Here in the fork 
 
 The brown nest is seated; 
 Four little blue eggs 
 
 The mother keeps heated. 
 
 While we stand watching her, 
 
 Staring like gabies, 
 Safe in each egg are the 
 
 Bird's little babies.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 103 
 
 Soon the frail eggs they shall 
 
 Chip, and upspringing 
 Make all the April woods 
 
 Merry with singing. 
 
 Younger than we are, 
 
 O children, and frailer, 
 Soon in blue air they'll be, 
 
 Singer and sailor. 
 
 We, so much older, 
 
 Taller and stronger, 
 We shall look down on the 
 
 Birdies no longer. 
 
 They shall go flying 
 
 With musical speeches 
 High overhead in the 
 
 Tops of the beeches. 
 
 In spite of our wisdom 
 
 And sensible talking, 
 We on our feet must go 
 
 Plodding and walking.
 
 104 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 III. 
 THE FLOWERS. 
 
 All the names I know from nurse: 
 Gardener's garters, Shepherd's purse, 
 Bachelor's buttons, Lady's smock, 
 And the Lady Hollyhock. 
 
 Fairy places, fairy things, 
 
 Fairy woods where the wild bee wings, 
 
 Tiny trees for tiny dames 
 
 These must all be fairy names! 
 
 Tiny woods below whose boughs 
 Shady fairies weave a house ; 
 Tiny tree-tops, rose or thyme, 
 Where the braver fairies climb!
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 105 
 
 Fair are grown-up people's trees, 
 But the fairest woods are these ; 
 Where if I were not so tall, 
 1 should live for good and all.
 
 106 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 IV. 
 SUMMER SUN. 
 
 Great is the sun, and wide he goes 
 Through empty heaven without repose; 
 And in the blue and glowing days 
 More thick than rain he showers his rays. 
 
 Though closer still the blinds we pull 
 To keep the shady parlor cool, 
 Yet he will find a chink or two 
 To slip his golden fingers through. 
 
 The dusty attit spider-clad 
 He, through the keyhole, maketh glad; 
 And through the broken edge of tiles, 
 Into the laddered hay-loft smiles.
 
 A' CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 107 
 
 Meantime his golden face around 
 He bares to all the garden ground, 
 And sheds a warm and glittering look 
 Among the ivy's inmost nook. 
 
 Above the hills, along the blue, 
 Round the bright air with footing true, 
 To please the child, to paint the rose, 
 The gardener of the World, he goes.
 
 108 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 V. 
 THE DUMB SOLDIER. 
 
 When the grass was closely mown, 
 Walking on the lawn alone, 
 In the turf a hole I found 
 And hid a soldier underground. 
 
 Spring and daisies came apace; 
 Grasses hide my hiding place; 
 Grasses run like a green sea 
 O'er the lawn up to my knee. 
 
 Under grass alone he lies, 
 Looking up with leaden eyes, 
 Scarlet coat and pointed gun, 
 To the stars and to the sun.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 109 
 
 When the grass is ripe like grain, 
 When'the scythe is stoned again, 
 When the lawn is shaven clear, 
 Then my hole shall reappear. 
 
 I shall find him, never fear, 
 I shall find my grenadier; 
 But for all that's gone and come, 
 I shall find my soldier dumb. 
 
 He has lived, a little thing, 
 In the grassy woods of spring ; 
 Done, if he could tell me true, 
 Just as I should like to do. , 
 
 He has seen the starry hours 
 And the springing of the flowers; 
 And the fairy things that pass 
 In the forests of the grass. 
 
 In the silence he has heard 
 Talking bee and ladybird, 
 And the butterfly has flown 
 O'er him as he lay alone.
 
 110 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 Not a word will he disclose, 
 Not a word of all he knows. 
 I must la) 7 him on the shelf, 
 And make up the tale myself.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. Ill 
 
 VI. 
 AUTUMN FIRES. 
 
 In the other gardens 
 
 And all up the vale, 
 From the autumn bonfires 
 
 See the smoke trail ! 
 
 Pleasant summer over 
 
 And all the summer flowers, 
 The red fire blazes, 
 
 The gray smoke towers. 
 
 Sing a song of seasons! 
 
 Something bright in all! 
 Flowers in the summer, 
 
 Fires in the fall!
 
 112 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 VII. 
 THE GARDENER. 
 
 The gardener does not love to talk, 
 He makes me keep the gravel walk ; 
 And when he puts his tools away, 
 He locks the door and takes the key. 
 
 Away behind the currant row 
 Where no one else but cook may go, 
 Far in the plots, I see him dig 
 Old and serious, brown and big. 
 
 He digs the flowers, green, red, and blue, 
 Nor wishes to be spoken to. 
 He digs the flowers and cuts the hay, 
 And never seems to want to play.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 113 
 
 Silly gardener! summer goes, 
 And winter comes with pinching toes, 
 When in the garden bare and brown 
 You must lay your barrow down. 
 
 Well now, and while the summer stays, 
 To profit by these garden days 
 O how much wiser you would be 
 To play at Indian wars with me! 
 
 8 Verses
 
 114 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 VIII. 
 HISTORICAL ASSOCIATIONS. 
 
 Dear Uncle Jim, this garden ground 
 That now you smoke your pipe around, 
 Has seen immortal actions done 
 And valiant battles lost and won. 
 
 Here we had best on tip-toe tread, 
 While I for safety march ahead, 
 For this is that enchanted ground 
 Where all who loiter slumber sound. 
 
 Here is the sea, here is the sand, 
 Here is simple Shepherd's Land, 
 Here are the fairy hollyhocks, 
 And there are Ali Baba's rocks.
 
 "The Swing." 
 
 Child's Garden of Verses.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN. OF VERSES. 115 
 
 But yonder, see ! apart and high, 
 Frozen Siberia lies; where I, 
 With Robert Bruce and William Tell, 
 Was bound by an enchanter's spell.
 
 ENVOYS. 
 
 Pairs 117 verses
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. Ill) 
 
 i . I. 
 
 TO WILLIE AND HENRIETTA. 
 
 If two may read aright 
 These rhymes of old delight 
 And house and garden play, 
 You two, my cousins, and you only, may. 
 
 You in a garden green 
 With me were king and queen, 
 Were hunter, soldier, tar, 
 And all the thousand things that children are. 
 
 Now in the elders' seat 
 We rest with quiet feet, ' 
 And from the window- bay 
 We watch the children, our successors, play.
 
 1UO A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 "Time was," the golden head 
 Irrevocably said: 
 But time which none can bind, 
 While flowing fast away, leaves love behind.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 121 
 
 II. 
 TO MY MOTHER. 
 
 You too, my mother, read my rhymes 
 For love of unforgotten times, 
 And you may chance to hear once more 
 The little feet along the floor.
 
 122 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES 
 
 III. 
 TO AUNTIE. 
 
 Chief of our aunts not only I, 
 
 But all your dozen of nurslings cry 
 
 What did the other children do? 
 
 And what were childhood, wanting you?
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 123 
 
 IV. 
 TO MINNIE. 
 
 The red room with the giant bed 
 
 Where none but elders laid their head; 
 
 The little room where you and I 
 
 Did for awhile together lie . 
 
 And, simple suitor, I your hand 
 
 In decent marriage did demand, 
 
 The great day nursery, best of all, 
 
 With pictures pasted on the wall 
 
 And leaves upon the blind 
 
 A pleasant room wherein to wake 
 
 And hear the leafy garden shake 
 
 And rustle in the wind 
 
 And pleasant there to lie in bed 
 
 And see the pictures overhead 
 
 The wars about Sebastopol, 
 
 The grinning guns along the wall, 
 
 The daring escalade,
 
 124 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 The plunging ships, the bleating sheep, 
 
 The happy children ankle-deep 
 
 And laughing as they wade: 
 
 All these are vanished clean away, 
 
 And the old manse is changed to-day; 
 
 It wears an altered face 
 
 And shields a stranger race. 
 
 The river, on from mill to mill, 
 
 Flows past our childhood's garden still; 
 
 But ah ! we children never more 
 
 \ 
 
 Shall watch it from the water-door! 
 Below the yew it still is there 
 Our phantom voices haunt the air 
 As we were still at play, 
 And I can hear them call and say: 
 "How far is it to Babylon?" 
 
 Ah, far enough, my dear, 
 
 Far, far enough from here 
 
 Yet you have farther gone! 
 
 "Can I get there by candle-light?" 
 
 So goes the old refrain. 
 
 I do not know perchance you might 
 
 But only, children, hear it right,
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 125 
 
 Ah, never to return again! 
 The eternal dawn, beyond a doubt, 
 Shall break on hill and plain, 
 And put all stars and candles out 
 Ere we be young again. 
 
 To you in distant India, these 
 
 I send across the seas, 
 
 Nor count it far across. 
 
 For which of us forgets 
 
 T&he Indian cabinets, 
 
 The bones of antelope, the wings of albatross, 
 
 The pied and painted birds and beans, 
 
 The junks and bangles, beads and screens, 
 
 The gods and sacred bells, 
 
 And the loud-humming, twisted shells! 
 
 The level of the parlor floor 
 
 Was honest, homely, Scottish shore; 
 
 But when we climbed upon a chair, 
 
 Behold the gorgeous East was there! 
 
 Be this a fable ; and behold 
 
 Me in the parlor as of old, 
 
 And Minnie just above me set 
 
 In the quaint Indian cabinet!
 
 126 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 Smiling and kind, you grace a shelf 
 Too high for me to reach myself. 
 Reach down a hand, my dear, and take 
 These rhymes for old acquaintance' sake.
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 127 
 
 V. 
 TO MY NAME-CHILD. 
 
 Some day soon this rhyming volume, if you 
 learn with proper speed, 
 
 Little Louis Sanchez, will be given you to 
 read. 
 
 Then shall you discover that your name was 
 printed down 
 
 By the English printers, long before, in Lon- 
 don town. 
 
 In the great and busy city where the East and 
 
 West are met, 
 
 All the little letters did the English printer set ; 
 While you thought of nothing, and were still 
 
 too young to play, 
 Foreign people thought of you in places far 
 
 away.
 
 1^8 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 Ay, and while you slept, a. baby, over all the 
 
 English lands 
 Other little children took the volume in their 
 
 hands; 
 Other children questioned, in their homes 
 
 across the seas: 
 Who was little Louis, won't you tell us, 
 
 mother, please? 
 
 n. 
 
 Now that you have spelt your lesson, lay it 
 
 down and go and play, 
 Seeking shells and seaweed on the sands of 
 
 Monterey, 
 Watching all the mighty whalebones, lying 
 
 buried by the breeze, 
 Tiny sandy-pipers, and the huge Pacific seas. 
 
 And remember in your playing, as the sea-fog 
 
 rolls to you, 
 Long ere you could read it, how I told you 
 
 what to do;
 
 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. 129 
 
 And that 'while you thought of no one, nearly 
 
 half the world away 
 Some one thought of Louis on the beach of' 
 
 Monterey! 
 
 9 Verses
 
 130 A LHiLD S GARDEN OF VERSES. 
 
 TO ANY READER. 
 
 As from the house your mother sees 
 You playing round the garden trees, 
 So you may see, if you will look 
 Through the windows of this book 
 Another child, far, far away, 
 And in another garden, play. 
 But do not think you can at all, 
 By knocking on the window, call 
 That child to hear you. He intent 
 Is all on his play- business bent. 
 He does not hear; he will not look, 
 Nor yet be lured out of this book. 
 For, long ago, the truth to say, 
 He has grown up and gone away, 
 And it is but a child of air 
 That lingers in the garden there.
 
 UNDERWOODS. 
 
 126
 
 BOOK I. IN ENGLISH. 
 
 I. 
 
 ENVOY. 
 
 Go, little book, and wish to all 
 Flowers in the garden, meat in the hall, 
 A bin of wine, a spice of wit, 
 A house with lawns enclosing it, 
 A living- river by the door, 
 A nightingale in the sycamore! 
 
 127
 
 II. 
 
 A SONG OF THE ROAD. 
 
 THE gauger walked with willing foot, 
 And aye the gauger played the flute ; 
 And what should Master Gauger play 
 But Over the hills and far aivay? 
 
 Whene'er I buckle on my pack 
 And foot it gayly in the track, 
 
 pleasant ganger, long since dead, 
 
 1 hear you fluting on ahead. 
 
 You go with me the self-same way 
 The self-same air for me you play; 
 For I do think and so do you 
 It is the tune to travel to. 
 
 For who would gravely set his face 
 To go to this or t'other place? 
 There's nothing under heav'n so blue 
 That's fairly worth the traveling to. 
 128
 
 A SONG OF THE ROAD. 129 
 
 On every hand the roads begin, 
 And people walk with zeal therein ; 
 But wheresoc'er the highways tend, 
 Be sure there's nothing at the end. 
 
 Then follow you, wherever hie 
 
 c 
 
 The travelling mountains of the sky. 
 Or let the streams in civil mode 
 Direct your choice upon a road; 
 
 For one and all, or high or low, 
 Will lead you where you wish to go; 
 And one and all go night and day 
 Orer the hills and far away! 
 Forest of Montargis, 1878.
 
 III. 
 
 THE CANOE SPEAKS. 
 
 ON the great streams the ships may go 
 About men's business to and fro. 
 But I, the egg-shell pinnace, sleep 
 On crystal waters ankle-deep : 
 I, whose diminutive design, 
 Of sweeter cedar, pithier pine, 
 Is fashioned on so frail a mould, 
 A hand may launch, a hand withhold : 
 1, rather, with the leaping trout 
 Wind, among lilies, in and out; 
 I, the unnamed, inviolate, 
 Green, rustic rivers navigate; 
 My dipping paddle scarcely shakes 
 The berry in the bramble-brakes; 
 Still forth on my green way I wend 
 Beside the cottage garden-end; 
 And by the nested angler fare, 
 And take the lovers unaware. 
 130
 
 THE CANOE SPEAKS. 131 
 
 By willow wood and water-wheel 
 Speedily fleets my touching keel ; 
 By all retired and shady spots 
 Where prosper dim forget-me-nots; 
 By meadows where at afternoon 
 The growing maidens troop in June 
 To loose their girdles on the grass. 
 Ah ! speedier than before the glass 
 The backward toilet goes; and swift 
 As swallows quiver, robe, and shift 
 And the rough country stockings lie 
 Around each young divinity. 
 When, following the recondite brook, 
 Sudden upon this scene I look, 
 And light with unfamiliar face 
 On chaste Diana's bathing place, 
 Loud ring the hills about and all 
 The shallows are abandoned. . , .
 
 IV. 
 
 IT IS THE SEASON NOW TO GO. 
 
 IT is the season now to go 
 About the country high and low, 
 Among the lilacs hand in hand, 
 And two by two in fairy land. 
 
 The brooding boy, the sighing maid, 
 Wholly fain and half afraid, 
 Now meet along the hazel'd brook 
 To pass and linger, pause and look. 
 
 A year ago, and blithely paired, 
 Their rough-and-tumble play they shared ; 
 They kissed and quarreled, laughed and cried, 
 A year ago at Eastertide. 
 
 With bursting heart, with fiery face, 
 She strove against him in the race; 
 He, unabashed, her garter saw, 
 That now would touch her skirt with awe. 
 132
 
 IT IS THE SEASON NOW TO GO. 133 
 
 Now by the stile ablaze she stops, 
 And his demurer eyes he drops; 
 Now they exchange averted sighs 
 Or stand and marry silent eyes. 
 
 And he to her a hero is, 
 And sweeter she than primroses; 
 Their common silence dearer far 
 Than nightingale and mavis are. 
 
 Now when they sever wedded hands, 
 Joy trembles in their bosom-strands, 
 And lovely laughter leaps and falls 
 Upon their lips in madrigals.
 
 V. 
 THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL. 
 
 A naked house, a naked moor, 
 A shivering pool before the door, 
 A garden bare of flowers and fruit, 
 And poplars at the garden foot: 
 Such is the place that I live in, 
 Bleak without and bare ivithin. 
 
 Yet shall your ragged moor receive 
 The incomparable pomp of eve, 
 And the cold glories of the dawn 
 Behind your shivering trees be drawn; 
 And when the wind from place to place 
 Doth the unmoored cloud-galleons chase, 
 Your garden gloom and gleam again, 
 With leaping sun, with glancing rain. 
 Here shall the wizard moon ascend 
 The heavens, in the crimson end 
 Of day's declining splendour ; here
 
 THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL. I3S 
 
 i 
 The army of the stars appear. 
 
 The neighbour hollows dry or wet, 
 Spring shall with tender flowers beset; 
 And oft the morning muser see 
 Larks rising from the broomy lea, 
 And every fairy wheel and thread 
 Of cobweb dew-bediamoned. 
 When daisies go, shall winter time 
 Silver and simple grass with rime ; 
 Autumnal frosts enchant the pool 
 And make the cart-ruts beautiful ; 
 And when snow-bright the moor expands 
 How shall your children clap their hands 
 To make this earth our hermitage, 
 A cheerful and a changeful page, 
 God's bright and intricate device 
 Of days and seasons doth suffice.
 
 VI. 
 
 A VISIT FROM THE SEA. 
 
 FAR from the loud sea beaches 
 
 Where he goes fishing and crying, 
 
 Here in the inland garden 
 Why is the sea-gull flying? 
 
 Here are fish to dive for, 
 
 Here is the corn and lea; 
 Here are the green trees rustling. 
 
 Hie away home to sea ! 
 
 Fresh is the river water 
 And quiet among the rushes ; 
 
 This is no home for the sea-gull 
 But for the rooks and thru'shes. 
 
 Pity the bird that has wandered! 
 Pity the sailor ashore! 
 136
 
 A VISIT FROM THE SEA. 13? 
 
 Hurry him home to the ocean. 
 
 Let him come here no more. 
 
 \ 
 
 High on the sea-cliff ledges 
 
 The white gulls are trooping and crying, 
 Here among rooks and roses, 
 
 Why is the sea-gull flying?
 
 vn. 
 
 TO A GARDENER. 
 
 FRIEND, in my mountain-side demesne, 
 My plain-beholding, rosy, green 
 And linnet-haunted garden-ground, 
 Let still the esculents abound. 
 Let first the onion flourish there, 
 Rose among roots, the maiden-fair, 
 Wine-scented and poetic soul 
 Of the capacious salad bowl. 
 Let thyme the mountaineer (to dress 
 The tinier birds) and wading cress, 
 The lover of the shallow brook. 
 From all my plots and borders look. 
 Nor crisp and ruddy radish, nor 
 Peace-cods for the child's pinafore 
 Be lacking; nor of salad clan 
 The last and least that ever ran 
 About great nature's garden-beds. 
 Nor thence be missed the speary heads 
 138
 
 TO A GARDENER. 139 
 
 Of artichoke ; nor thence the bean 
 That, gathered innocent and green, 
 Outsavours the belauded pea. 
 
 These tend, I prithee ; and for me, 
 Thy most long-suffering master, bring 
 In April, when the linnets sing 
 And the days lengthen more and more 
 At sundown to the garden door. 
 And I, being provided thus, 
 Shall, with superb asparagus, 
 A book, a taper, and a cup 
 Of country wine, divinely sup. 
 
 La Solitude, Hyeres.
 
 VIII. 
 
 TO MINNIE. 
 (With a Hand-Glass ) 
 
 A PICTURE-FRAME for YOU tO fill, 
 
 A paltry setting for your face, 
 A thing that has no worth until 
 
 You lend it something of your grace, 
 
 I send (unhappy I that sing 
 Laid by a while upon the shelf) 
 
 Because I would not send a thing 
 Less charming than you are yourself. 
 
 And happier than I, alas! 
 
 (Dumb thing, I envy its delight), 
 'Twill wish you well, the looking-glass, 
 
 And look you in the face tonight. 
 18*9. 
 
 140
 
 IX. 
 TO K. DE M. 
 
 A LOVER of the moorland bare 
 
 And honest country winds, you were; 
 
 The silver-skimming rain you took ; 
 
 And loved the floodings of the brook, 
 
 Dew, frost, and mountains, fire and seas, 
 
 Tumultuary silences. 
 
 Winds that in darkness fifed a tune, 
 
 And the high-riding, virgin moon. 
 
 And as the berry, pale and sharp, 
 Springs on some ditch's counterscarp 
 In our ungenial, native north 
 You put your frosted wildings forth, 
 And on the heath, afar from man, 
 A strong and bitter virgin ran. 
 
 The berry ripened keeps the rude 
 And racy flavour of the wood; 
 141
 
 TO K. DE M. 
 
 And you, that loved the empty plain 
 All redolent of wind and rain, 
 Around you still the curlew sings 
 The freshness of the weather clings- 
 The maiden jewels of the rain 
 Sit in your dabbled locks again.
 
 X. 
 
 TO N. V. DE G. S. 
 
 THE unfathomable sea, and time, and tears, 
 The deeds of heroes and the crimes of kings 
 Dispart us ; and the river of events 
 Has, for an age of years, to east and west 
 More widely borne our cradles. Thou to me 
 Art foreign, as when seamen at the dawn 
 Descry a land far off and know not which. 
 So T approach uncertain ; so I cruise 
 Round thy mysterious islet, and behold 
 Surf and great mountains and loud river bars, 
 And from the shore hear inland voices call. 
 Strange is the seaman's heart ; he hopes, he fears ; 
 Draws closer and sweeps wider from that coast ; 
 Last, his rent sail refits, and to the deep 
 His shattered prow uncomforted puts back. 
 Yet as he goes he ponders at the helm 
 Of that bright island ; where he feared to touch, 
 His spirit re-adventures ; and for years 
 M3
 
 144 TO N. V. DE G. S. 
 
 Where by his wife he slumbers safe at home, 
 Thoughts of that land revisit him ; he sees 
 The eternal mountains beckon, and awakes 
 Yearning for that far home that might have been.
 
 XI. 
 TO WILL H. LOW. 
 
 YOUTH now flees on feathered foot 
 Faint and fainter sounds the flute, 
 Rarer songs of gods ; and still 
 Somewhere on the sunny hill, 
 Or along the winding stream, 
 Through the willows, flits a dream ; 
 Flits, but shows a smiling face, 
 Flees, but with so quaint a grace, 
 None can choose to stay at home, 
 All must follow, all must roam. 
 This is unborn beauty : she 
 Now in air floats high and free, 
 Takes the sun and breaks the blue;- 
 Late with stooping pinion flew 
 Raking hedgerow trees, and wet 
 Her wing in silver streams, and set 
 Shining foot on temple roof; 
 Now again she flies aloof, 
 H5
 
 TO WILL H. LOU'. 
 
 Coasting mountain clouds and kiss't 
 By the evening's amethyst. 
 
 In wet wood and miry lane, 
 
 Still we pant and pound in vain ; 
 
 Still with leaden foot we chase 
 
 Waning pinion, fainting face; 
 
 Still with gray hair we stumble on, 
 
 Till, behold, the vision gone! 
 
 Where hath fleeting beauty led ? 
 
 To the doorway of the dead. 
 
 Life is over, life was gay: 
 
 We have come the primrose way.
 
 XII. 
 TO MRS. WILL. H. LOW. 
 
 EVEN in the bluest noonday of July, 
 
 There could not run the smallest breath of wind 
 
 But all the quarter sounded like a wood ; 
 
 And in the checkered silence and above 
 
 The hum of city cabs that sought the Bois, 
 
 Suburban ashes shivered into song. 
 
 A patter and a chatter and a chirp 
 
 And a long-dying hiss it was as though 
 
 Starched old Brocaded, dames through all the 
 
 house 
 
 Had trailed a strident skirt, or the whole sky 
 Even in a wink had over-brimmed in rain. 
 Hark, in these shady parlours, how it talks 
 Of the near autumn, how the smitten ash 
 Trembles and augurs floods ! O not too long 
 In these inconstant latitudes delay, 
 O not too late from the unbeloved north 
 i47
 
 14 TO MRS. WILL H. LOW. 
 
 Trim you escape ! For soon shall this low roof 
 Resound indeed with rain ; soon shall your eyes 
 Search the foul garden, search the darkened 
 
 rooms, 
 
 Kor find gne jewel but the blazing log. 
 12 Rue Vernier, Paris.
 
 XIII. 
 TO H. F. BROWN. 
 
 (Written During a Dangerous Sickness.) 
 
 I SIT and wait a pair of oars 
 On cis-Elysian river-shores. 
 Where the immortal dead have sate, 
 Tis mine to sit and meditate ; 
 To re-ascend life's rivulet, 
 Without remorse, without regret; 
 And sing my Alma Genetrix 
 Among the willows of the Styx. 
 
 And lo, as my serener soul 
 Did these unhappy shores patrol, 
 And wait with an attentive ear 
 The coming of the gondolier, 
 Your fire-surviving roll I took, 
 Your spirited and happy book ;* 
 
 * "Life on the Lagoons," by H. F. Brown, originally 
 burned in the fire at Messrs. Kegan Paul, Trench & Go's. 
 149
 
 150 TO H. F. BROWN. 
 
 Whereon, despite my frowning fate, 
 It did my soul so recreate 
 That all my fancies fled away 
 On a Venetian holiday. 
 
 Now, thanks to your triumphant care, 
 
 Your pages clear as April air, 
 
 The sails, the bells, the birds, I know, 
 
 And. the far-off Friulan snow; 
 
 The land and sea, the sun and shade, 
 
 And the blue even, lamp-inlaid, 
 
 For this, for these, for all, O friend, 
 
 For your whole book from end to end 
 
 For Paron Piero's muttonham 
 
 I your defaulting debtor am. 
 
 Perchance, reviving, yet may I 
 To your sea-paven city hie. 
 And in a fclse, some day, yet 
 Light at your pipe my cigarette.
 
 XIV. 
 
 TO ANDREW LANG. 
 i 
 
 DEAR Andrew, with the Brindled hair, 
 Who glory to have thrown in air, 
 High over arm, the trembling reed, 
 By Ale and Kail, by Till and Tweed; 
 An equal craft of hand you show 
 The pen to guide, the fly to throw : 
 I count you happy starred ; for God 
 When He with inkpot and with rod 
 Endowed you, bade your fortune lead 
 Forever by the crooks of Tweed, 
 Forever by the woods of song 
 And lands that to the' Muse belong; 
 Or, if in peopled streets, or in 
 The abhorred pedantic sanhedrim, 
 It should be yours to wander, still 
 Airs of the morn, airs of the hill, 
 The plovery Forest and the seas 
 That break about the Hebrides,
 
 152 TO ANDREW LANG. 
 
 Should follow over field and plain 
 
 And find you at the window-pane; 
 
 And you again see hill and peel, 
 
 And the bright springs gush at your heel. 
 
 So went the fiat forth, and so 
 
 Garrulous like a brook you go, 
 
 With sound of happy mirth and sheen 
 
 Of daylight whether by the green 
 
 You fare that moment, or the gray; 
 
 Whether you dwell in March or May ; 
 
 Or whether treat of reels and rods 
 
 Or of the old unhappy gods : 
 
 Still like a brook your page has shone, 
 
 And your ink sings of Helicon.
 
 XV. 
 
 ET TU IN ARCADIA VIXISTI. 
 
 (TO R. A. M. S.) 
 
 IN ancient tales, O friend, thy spirit dwelt ; 
 There, from of old, thy childhood passed ; and 
 
 there 
 
 High expectation, high delights and deeds, 
 Thy fluttering heart with hope and terror moved. 
 And thou hast heard of yore the Blatant Beast, 
 And Roland's horn, and that war-scattering shout 
 Of all-unarmed Achilles, aegis-crowned. 
 And perilous lands thou sawest, sounding shores 
 And seas and forests drear, island and dale 
 And mountain dark. For thou with Tristram 
 
 rod'st 
 
 Or Bedevere, in farthest Lyonesse. 
 Thou hadst a booth in Samarcand, whereat 
 Side-looking Magians trafficked ; thence, by night, 
 An Afreet snatched thee, and with wings upbore 
 Beyond the Aral mount ; or hoping gain, 
 153
 
 154 ET TL' L\ ARCADIA 1'IXISTL 
 
 Thou, with a jar of money didst embark 
 For Balsorah, by sea. But chiefly thou 
 In that clear air took'st life ; in Arcady 
 The haunted, land of song; and by the wells 
 Where most the gods frequent. There Chiron 
 
 old, . 
 
 In the Pelethronian antre, taught thee lore : 
 The plants, he taught, and by the shining stars 
 In forests dim to -steer. There hast thou seen 
 Immortal Pan dance secret in a glade, 
 And, dancing, roll his eyes ; these, where they 
 
 fell, 
 
 Shed glee, and through the congregated oaks 
 A flying horror winged ; while all the earth 
 To the god's pregnant footing thrilled within. 
 Or whiles, beside the sobbing stream, he breathed 
 In his clutched pipe unformed and wizard strains, 
 Divine yet brutal ; which the forest heard, 
 And thou, with awe ; and far upon the plain 
 The unthinking ploughman started and gave ear. 
 Now things there are that, upon him who sees, 
 A strong vocation lay ; and strains there are 
 That whoso hears shall hear for evermore. 
 For evermore thou hear'st a mortal Pan
 
 ET TC /.V ARCADIA I'lXlSTI. 155 
 
 And those melodious godheads, ever young 
 And ever choiring on the mountains old. 
 
 What was this earth, child of the gods, to thee? 
 Forth from thy dreamland thou, a dreamer, 
 
 cam'st, 
 
 And in thine ears the olden music rang, 
 And in thy mind the doings of the dead, 
 And those heroic ages long forgot. 
 To a so fallen earth, alas ! too late, 
 Alas ! in evil days, thy steps return, 
 To list at noon for nightingales, to grow 
 A dweller on the beach till Argo come, 
 That came long since ; a lingerer by the pool 
 Where that desired angel bathes no more. 
 As when the Indian to Dakota comes, 
 Or farthest Idaho, and where he dwelt, 
 He, with his clan, a humming city finds ; 
 Thereon awhile, amazed, he stares, and' then 
 To right and leftward, like a questing dog, 
 Seeks first the ancestral altars, then the hearth 
 Long cold with rains, and where old terror 
 
 lodged, 
 And where the dead. So thee undying Hope,
 
 i5<> HT TU l.\ ARCADIA I'lXISTI. 
 
 With "all her pack, hunts screaming through the 
 
 years : 
 
 Here, there, thou fleest ; but nor here nor there 
 The pleasant gods abide, the glory dwells. 
 
 That, that was not Apollo, not the god. 
 
 This was not Venus, though she Venus seemed 
 
 A moment. And though fair yon river move. 
 
 She, all the way from disenchanted fount 
 
 To seas unhallowed runs ; the gods forsook 
 
 Lng since her trembling rushes ; from her plans 
 
 Disconsolate, long since adventure fled ; 
 
 And now although the inviting river flows 
 
 And every poplared cape and every bend 
 
 Or willowy islet, win upon thy soul 
 
 And yet to thy hopeful shallop whisper speed ; 
 
 Yet hope not thou at all ; hope is no more ; 
 
 And O, long since the golden groves are dead 
 
 The faery cities vanished from the land !
 
 XVI. 
 TO W. E. HENLEY. 
 
 THE year runs through her phases ; rain and sun, 
 Springtime and summer pass; winter succeeds; 
 But one pale season rules the house of death. 
 Cold falls the imprisoned daylight ; fell disease 
 By each lean pallet squats, and pain and sleep 
 Toss gaping on the pillows. 
 
 But O thou ! 
 
 Uprise and take thy pipe. Bid music flow. 
 Strains by good thoughts attended, like the 
 
 spring 
 
 The swallows follow 'over land and sea. 
 Pain sleeps at once ; at once, with open eyes, 
 Dozing despair awakes. The shepherd sees 
 His flock come bleating home ; the seaman hears 
 Once more the cordage rattle. Airs of home ! 
 Youth, love, and roses blossom ; the gaunt ward 
 J57
 
 IS8 TO W. E. HENLEY. 
 
 Dislimns and disappears, and, opening out, 
 Shows brooks and forests, and the blue beyond 
 Of mountains. 
 
 Small the pipe ; but oh ! do thou, 
 Peak-faced and suffering piper, blow therein 
 The dirje of heroes dead; and to these sick, 
 These dying, sound the triumph over death. 
 Behold ! each greatly breathes ; each tastes a joy 
 Unknown before, in dying; for each knows 
 A hero dies with him though unfulfilled, 
 Yet conquering truly and not dies in vain. 
 
 So is pain cheered, death comforted; the house 
 Of sorrow smiles to listen. Once again 
 O thou, Orpheus and Heracles, the bard 
 And the deliverer, touch the stops again!
 
 XVII. 
 HENRY JAMES. 
 
 WHO comes to-night ? We ope the doors in vain, 
 Who comes? My bursting' walls, can you con- 
 tain 
 
 The presences that now together throng 
 Your narrow entry, as with flowers and song, 
 As with the air of life, the breath of talk ? 
 Lo, how these fair immaculate women walk 
 Behind their jocund maker ; and we see 
 Slighted DC Maui'cs, and that far different she, 
 Grcssic, the trivial sphynx ; and to our feast, 
 Daisy and Barb and Chancellor (she not least!) 
 With all their silken, all their airy kin, 
 Do like unbidden angels enter in. 
 But he, attended by these shining names. 
 Comes (best of all) himself our welcome James. 
 
 159
 
 XVIII. 
 THE MIRROR SPEAKS. 
 
 WHERE th bells peal far at sea 
 
 Cunning fingers fashioned me. 
 
 There on palace walls I hung 
 
 While that Consuelo sung; 
 
 But I heard, though I listened well, 
 
 Never a note, never a trill, 
 
 Never a beat of the chiming bell. 
 
 There I hung and looked, and there 
 
 In my gray face, faces fair 
 
 Shone from under shining hair. 
 
 Well T saw the poising head. 
 
 But the lips moved and nothing said; 
 
 And when lights were in the hall, 
 
 Silent moved the dancers all. 
 
 So a while I glo\ved, and then 
 Fell on dusty days and men ; 
 Long I slumbered packed in straw, 
 160
 
 THE MIRROR SPEAKS. 161 
 
 Long I none but dealers saw ; 
 
 Till before my silent eye 
 
 One that sees came passing by. 
 
 Now with an outlandish grace, 
 To the sparkling fire I face 
 In the blue room at Skerryvore ; 
 Where I wait until the door 
 Open, and the Prince of Men, 
 Henry James, shall come again.
 
 XIX. 
 KATHARINE. 
 
 WE see you as we see a face 
 That trembles in a forest place 
 Upon the mirror of a pool 
 Forever quiet, clear, and cool ; 
 And in the wayward glass appears 
 To hover between smiles and tears, 
 Elfin and human, airy and true. 
 And backed bv the reflected blue. 
 
 162
 
 XX. 
 
 TO F. J. S. 
 
 I READ, dear friend, in your dear face 
 Your life's tale told with perfect grace ; 
 The river of your life I trace 
 Up the sun-checkered, devious bed 
 To the far-distant fountain-head. 
 
 Not one quick beat of your warm heart, 
 Nor thought that came to you apart, 
 Pleasure nor pity, love nor pain 
 Nor sorrow, has gone by in vain ; 
 But as some lone, wood-wandering child 
 Brings home with him at evening mild 
 The thorns and flowers of all the wild, 
 From your whole life, O fair and true 
 Your flowers and thorns you bring with you ! 
 
 163
 
 XXI. 
 
 REQUIEM. 
 
 UNDER the wide and starry sky, 
 Dig the grave and let me lie. 
 Glad did I live and gladly die, 
 And I laid me down with a will. 
 
 This be the verse you grave for me : 
 Here he lies where he longed to be; 
 Home is the sailor, home from sea, 
 And the hunter home from the hill. 
 
 164
 
 XXII. 
 THE CELESTIAL SURGEON. 
 
 IF I have faltered more or less 
 In my great task of happiness ; 
 If I have moved among my race 
 And shown no glorious morning face ; 
 If beams from happy human eyes 
 Have moved me not < if morning skies, 
 Books, and my food, and summer rain 
 Knocked on my sullen heart in vain : 
 Lord, thy most pointed pleasure take 
 And stab my spirit broad awake ; 
 Or, Lo^d, if too obdurate I, 
 Choose thou, before that spirit die, 
 A piercing pain, a killing sin, 
 And to my dead heart run them in ! 
 
 165
 
 XXIII. 
 OUR LADY OF THE SNOWS. 
 
 OUT of the sun, out of the blast, 
 Out of the world, alone I passed 
 Across the moor and through the wood 
 To where the monastery stood-. 
 There neither lute nor breathing fife, 
 Nor rumour of the world of life, 
 Nor confidences low and dear, 
 Shall strike the meditative ear. 
 Aloof, unhelpful, and unkind, 
 The prisoners of the iron mind. 
 Where nothing speaks except the hell, 
 The un fraternal brothers dwell. 
 
 Poor, passionate men, still clothed afresh 
 With agonizing -folds of flesh; 
 Whom the clear eyes solicit still 
 To some bold output of the will, 
 While fairy Fancy far before 
 1 66
 
 OUR LADY OF THE SNOWS. 167 
 
 And musing Memory-Hold-the-door 
 Now to heroic death invite 
 And now uncertain fresh delight : 
 O, little boots it thus to dwell 
 On the remote unneighboured hill ! 
 
 O, to be up and doing, O 
 Unfearing and unshamed to go 
 In all the uproar and the press 
 About my human business ! 
 My undissuaded heart I hear 
 Whisper courage in my ear. 
 With voiceless calls, the ancient earth 
 Summons me to a daily birth. 
 Thou, O my love, ye, O my friends 
 The gist of life, the end of ends 
 To laugh, to love, to live, to die, 
 Ye call me by the ear and eye ! 
 
 Forth from the casemate, on the plain 
 Where honour has the world to gain, 
 Pour forth and bravely do your part, 
 O knights of the unshielded heart ! 
 Forth and forever forward ! out
 
 168 OUR LADY OF THE SNOWS. 
 
 From prudent turret and redoubt, 
 And in the mellay charge amain, 
 To fall, but yet to rise again ! 
 Captive? ah, still, to honour bright, 
 A captive soldier of the right ! 
 Or free and fighting, good with ill ? 
 Unconquering but unconquered still ! 
 
 And ye, O brethren, what if God. 
 When from heav'n's top He spies abroad, 
 And sees on this tormented stage 
 The noble war of mankind rage : 
 What if His vivifying eye, 
 O monks, should pass your corner by? 
 For still the Lord is Lord of might ; 
 In deeds, in deeds. He takes delight ; 
 The plow, the spear, the laden barks, 
 The field, the founded city, marks ; 
 He marks the smiler of the streets, 
 The singer upon garden seats ; 
 He sees the climber in the rocks : 
 To Him the shepherd folds his flocks. 
 For those He loves that underprop 
 With daily virtues heaven's top.
 
 169 
 
 And bear the falling sky with ease, 
 Unfrowning caryatides. 
 
 Those he approves that ply the trade, 
 That rock the child, that wed the maid, 
 That with weak virtues, weaker hands, 
 Sow gladness on the peopled lands, 
 And still with laughter, song and shout, 
 Spin the great wheel of earth about. 
 
 But ye O ye who linger still, 
 Here in your fortress on the hill. 
 With placid face, with tranquil breath, 
 The unsought volunteers of death. 
 Our cheerful General on high 
 With careless looks may pass you by.
 
 XXIV. 
 
 NOT yet, my soul, these friendly fields desert. 
 Where thou with grass, and rivers, and the breeze, 
 And the bright face of day, thy dalliance liadst ; 
 Where to thine ear first sang the enraptured 
 
 birds ; 
 
 Where love and thou that lasting bargain made. 
 The ship rides trimmed, and from the eternal 
 
 shore 
 
 Thou hearest airy voices ; but not yet 
 Depart, my soul, not yet a while depart. 
 Freedom is far, rest far. Thou art with life 
 Too closely woven, nerve with nerve entwined; 
 Service still craving service, love for love, 
 Love for dear love, still suppliant with tears. 
 Alas, not yet thy human task is done ! 
 A bond at birth is forged ; a debt doth lie 
 Immortal on mortality. It grows 
 By bast rebound it grows, unceasing growth ; 
 Gift upon gift, alms upon alms, upreared, 
 170
 
 WOT YET, MY SOUL. 171 
 
 From man, from God, from nature, till the soul 
 At that so huge indulgence stands amazed. 
 
 Leave not, my soul, the unfoughten field, nor 
 
 leave 
 
 Thy debts dishonoured, nor thy place desert 
 Without due service rendered. For thy life, 
 Up, spirit, and defend that fort. of clay, 
 Thy body, now beleaguered ; whether soon 
 Or late she fall ; whether to-day thy friends 
 Bewail thee dead, or, "after years, a man 
 Grown old in honour and the friend of peace. 
 Contend, my soul, for moments and for hours ; 
 Each is with service pregnant ; each reclaimed 
 Is as a kingdom conquered, where to reign. 
 As when a captain rallies to the fight 
 His scattered legions, and beats ruin back, 
 He, on the field, encamps, well pleased in mind. 
 Yet surely him shall fortune overtake. 
 Him smite in turn, headlong his ensigns drive ; 
 And that dear land, now safe, to-morrow fall. 
 But he, unthinking, in the present good 
 Solely delights, and all the camps rejoice.
 
 XXV. 
 
 IT is not yours, O mother, to complain, 
 Xot, mother, yours to weep. 
 Though nevermore your son again 
 Shall to your bosom creep. 
 
 Though nevermore again you watch your baby 
 sleep. 
 
 Though in the 'greener 'paths of earth, 
 Mother and child no more 
 We wander; and no more the birth 
 Of me whom once you bore 
 Seems still the brave reward that once it seemed 
 of yore ; 
 
 Though as all passes, day and night, 
 The seasons and the years, 
 From you, O mother, this delight, 
 This also disappears 
 
 Some profit yet survives of all your pangs and 
 tears. 
 
 172
 
 IT IS NOT YOURS, O MOTHER, 173 
 
 The child, the seed, the grain of corn. 
 The acorn on the hill, 
 Each for some separate end is born 
 In season fit, and still 
 
 Each must in strength arise to work the almighty 
 will. 
 
 So from the hearth the children flee, 
 By that almighty hand 
 Austerely led ; so one by sea 
 Goes forth, and one by land; 
 Nor aught of all man's sons escape from that 
 command. 
 
 So from the sally each obeys 
 The unseen almighty nod; 
 So till the ending all their ways 
 Blindfolded loath have trod : 
 Nor knew their task at all, but were the tools of 
 God. 
 
 And as the fervent smith of yore 
 Beat out the glowing blade, 
 Nor wielded in the front of war
 
 17-1 /'/' IS .NOT r0r/?..9, O MOTHER. 
 
 The weapons that he made. 
 
 But in the tower at home still plied his ringing 
 trade ; 
 
 So like a sword the son shall roam 
 
 On nobler missions sent ; 
 
 And as the smith remained at home 
 
 In peaceful turret pent, 
 
 So sits the while at home the mother well content.
 
 XXVI. 
 THE SICK CHILD. 
 
 Child 
 
 O MOTHER, lay your hand on my brow ! 
 
 mother, mother, where am I now ? 
 Why is the room so gaunt and great? 
 Why am I lying awake so late? 
 
 Mother 
 
 Fear not at all : the night is still ; 
 Nothing is here that means you ill 
 Nothing but Jamps the whole town through, 
 And never a child awake but you. 
 
 Child 
 
 Mother, mother, speak low in my ear, 
 Some of the things are so great and near, 
 Some are so small and far away, 
 
 1 have a fear that I cannot say. 
 What have I done, and what do I fear, 
 And why are you crying, mother dear? 
 
 J75
 
 176 THE SICK CHILD. 
 
 Mother 
 
 Out in the city, sounds begin ; 
 
 Thank the kind God. the carts come in ! 
 
 An hour or two more, and God is so kind, 
 
 The day shall be blue in the window-blind. 
 
 Then shall my child go sweetly asleep. 
 
 And dream of the birds and the hills of sheep.
 
 XXVII. 
 IN MEMORIAM F. A. S. 
 
 YET, O stricken heart, remember, O remember 
 How of human days he lived the better part. 
 
 April came to bloom and never dim December 
 Breathed its killing chills upon the head or 
 heart. 
 
 Doomed to know not winter, only spring, a being 
 Trod the flowery April blithely for a while, 
 
 Took his fill of music, joy of thought and seeing, 
 Came and stayed and went, nor ever ceased to 
 smile. 
 
 Came and stayed and went, and now when all 
 
 is finished, 
 
 You alone have crossed the melancholy stream, 
 Yours the pang, but his, O his, the undiminished 
 Undecaying gladness, undeparted dream. 
 177
 
 178 IN MEMORIAM F. A. S. 
 
 All that life contains of torture, toil, and treason, 
 Shame, dishonour, death, to him were but a 
 
 name. 
 Here, a boy, he dwelt through all the singing 
 
 season 
 And ere the day of sorrow departed as he 
 
 came. 
 Davos, 1881.
 
 XXVIII. 
 TO MY FATHER. 
 
 PEACE and her huge invasion to these shores 
 Puts daily home ; innumerable sails 
 Dawn on the far horizon and draw near; 
 Innumerable loves, uncounted hopes 
 To our wild coasts, not darkling now, approach : 
 Not now obscure, since thou and thine are there, 
 And bright on the lone isle, the foundered reef, 
 The long, resounding foreland, Pharos stands. 
 
 These are thy works, O father, these thy crown ; 
 Whether on high the air be pure, they shine 
 Along the yellowing sunset, and all night 
 Among the unnumbered stars of God they shine ; 
 Or whether fogs arise and far and wide 
 The low sea-level drown each finds a tongue 
 And all night long the tolling bell resounds : 
 So shine, so toil, till night be overpast, 
 179
 
 i8o TO MY FATHER. 
 
 Till the stars vanish, till the sun return, 
 And in the haven rides the fleet secure. 
 
 In the first hour, the seaman in his skiff 
 Moves through the unmoving bay, to where the 
 
 town 
 
 Its earliest smoke into the air upbreathes 
 And the rough hazels climb along the beach. 
 To the tugg'd oar the distant echo speaks. 
 The ship lies resting, where by reef and roost 
 Thou and thy lights have led her like a child. 
 
 This hast thou done, and I can I be base? 
 
 I must arise, O father, and to port 
 
 Some lost, complaining seaman pilot home.
 
 XXIX. 
 
 IN THE STATES. 
 
 WITH half a heart I wander here 
 
 As from an age gone by 
 A brother yet though young in years, 
 
 An elder brother, I. 
 
 You speak another tongue than mine, 
 Though both were English born. 
 
 I toward the night of time decline, 
 You mount into the morn. 
 
 Youth shall grow great and strong and free, 
 
 But age must still decay : 
 To-morrow for the States for me, 
 
 England and Yesterday. 
 San Francisco. 
 
 181
 
 XXX. 
 
 A PORTRAIT. 
 
 I AM a kind of farthing dip, 
 
 Unfriendly to the nose and eyes; 
 
 A blue-behinded ape. I skip 
 Upon the trees of Paradise. 
 
 At mankind's feast, I take my place 
 In solemn, sanctimonious state, 
 
 And have the air of saying grace 
 While I defile the dinner-plate. 
 
 I am "the smiler with the knife," 
 The battener upon garbage, I 
 , Dear Heaven, with such a rancid life, 
 \Yere it not better far to die? 
 
 Vet still, about the human pale, 
 I love to scamper, love to race, 
 
 To swing by my irreverent tail 
 All over the most holy place ; 
 182
 
 A PORTRAIT. 183 
 
 And when at length, some golden day, 
 The unfailing sportsman, aiming at, 
 
 Shall bag me all the world will say, 
 Thank God, and there's an end of that!
 
 XXXI. 
 
 SING clearlier, Muse, or evermore be still, 
 Sing truer or no longer sing ! 
 No more the voice of melancholy Jacques 
 To make a weeping echo in the hill : 
 But as the boy, the pirate of the spring, 
 From the green elm a living linnet takes, 
 One natural verse recapture then be still. 
 
 184
 
 XXXII. 
 A CAMP. 1 
 
 THE bed was made, the room was fit, 
 By punctual eve the stars were lit ; 
 The air was still, the water ran, 
 No need was there for maid or man, 
 When we put up, my ass and I, 
 At God's green caravanserai. 
 
 "Travels with a Donkey." 
 
 185
 
 XXXIII. 
 THE COUNTRY OF THE CAMISARDS. 1 
 
 WE travelled in the print of olden wars, 
 Yet all the land was green 
 And love we found, and peace, 
 Where fire and war had been.. 
 
 They pass and smile, the children of the sword 
 Xo more the sword they wield ; 
 And O, how deep the corn 
 Along the battlefield ! 
 "Travels with a Donkey." 
 
 186
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 SKERRYVORE. 
 
 FOR love of lovely words and for the sake 
 Of those, my kinsmen and my countrymen, 
 Who early and late in the windy ocean toiled 
 To plant a star for seamen, where was then 
 The surfy haunt of seals and cormorants : 
 I, on the lintel of this cot, inscribe 
 The name of a strong tower.
 
 XXXV. 
 
 SKERRYVORE : THE PARALLEL. 
 
 HERE all is sunny, and when the truant gull 
 
 Skims the green level of the lawn, his wing 
 
 Dispetals roses : here the house is framed 
 
 Of kneaded brick and the plumed mountain pine, 
 
 Such clay as artists fashion and such wood 
 
 As the tree-climbing urchin breaks. But there 
 
 Eternal granite hewn from the living isle 
 
 And dowelled with brute iron, rears a tower 
 
 That from its wet foundation to its crown 
 
 Of glittering glass, stands, in the sweep of winds, 
 
 Immovable, immortal, eminent.
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 My house, I say. But hark to the sunny doves 
 That make my roof the arena of their loves, 
 That gyre about the gable all day long 
 And fill the chimneys with their murmurous 
 
 song: 
 
 Our house, they say ; and mine, the cat declares 
 And spreads his golden fleece upon the chairs ; 
 And mine, the dog, and rises stiff with wrath 
 If any alien foot profane the path. 
 So too the buck that trimmed my terraces, 
 Our whilome gardener, called the garden his ; 
 Who now, deposed, surveys my plain abode , 
 And his late kingdom, only from the road.
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 MY body, which my dungeon is, 
 And yet my parks and palaces: 
 Which is so great that there I go 
 All the day long to and fro, 
 And when the night begins to fall 
 Throw down my bed and sleep, while all 
 The building hums with wakefulness 
 Even as a child of savages 
 When evening takes her on her way 
 (She having roamed a summer's day 
 Along the mountain sides and scalp), 
 Sleeps in an antre of that alp : 
 Which is so broad and high that there, 
 As in the topless fields of air, 
 My fancy soars like to a kite 
 And faints in the blue infinite: 
 Which is so strong, my strongest throes 
 And the rough world's besieging blows 
 Not break it, and so weak withal, 
 190
 
 MY BODY, WHICH MY DUNGEON IS. 
 
 Death ebbs and flows in its loose wall 
 As the green sea in fishers' nets, 
 And tops its topmost parapets : 
 Which is so wholly mine that I 
 Can wield its whole artillery, 
 And mine so little, that my soul 
 Dwells in perpetual control. 
 And I but think and speak and do 
 As my dead fathers move me to : 
 If this born body of my bones 
 The beggared soul so barely owns, 
 What passed from hand to hand, 
 What creeping custom of the land, 
 What deed of author or assign, 
 Can make a house a thing of mine ?
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 SAY not of me that weakly I declined 
 The labours of my sires, and fled the sea, 
 The towers we founded and the lamps we lit, 
 To play at home with paper like a child. 
 
 But rather say : In the afternoon of time 
 A strenuous family dusted from its hands 
 The sand of granite, and beholding far 
 Along the sounding coast its pyramids 
 And tall memorials catch the dying sun, 
 Smiled u-ell content, and to this childish task 
 Around the fire addressed its evening hours.
 
 BOOK II. IN SCOTS. 
 
 TABLE OF COMMON SCOTTISH VOWEL 
 SOUNDS. 
 
 > =open A. as in rare, 
 ai ) 
 
 au > =.\\v, as in law. 
 aw J 
 
 ea ^open E, as in mere, but this with exceptions, as 
 heather heather, \vean=\vain, lear=lair. 
 
 66 1 
 
 ei y =open E. as m mere. 
 
 ie ) 
 
 oa =open o, as in more. 
 
 ou doubled o, as in poor. 
 
 ow=o\v. as in bower. 
 
 u =doubled o. as in poor. 
 
 ui or ii before R=(say roughly) open A, as in rare. 
 
 ui or ii before any other consonant=(say roughly) close 
 I, as in grin. 
 
 y =open r. as in kite. 
 
 i pretty nearly what you please, much as in English. 
 Heaven guide the reader through that labyrinth ! 
 But in Scots it dodges usually from the short i, 
 as in grin, to the open E. as in mere. Find and 
 blind, I may remark, are pronounced to rhyme 
 with the preterite of grin. 
 
 '93
 
 I. 
 
 THE MAKER TO POSTERITY. 
 
 FAR 'yont amang the years to be, 
 When a' we think, an/ a' we see, 
 An' a' we luve, 's been dung ajee 
 
 By time's rouch shouther, 
 An' what was richt and wrang for 
 
 Lies mangled throu'ther, 
 
 It's possible it's hardly mair 
 That some ane, ripin' after lear 
 Some auld professor or young heir, 
 
 If still there's either 
 May find an' read me, an' be sair 
 
 Perplexed, puir brither ! 
 
 "What tongue does your auld bookie speak f" 
 He'll spier ; an' I his mou to steik : 
 "No bein' fit to write in Greek, 
 I wrote in Lallan, 
 194
 
 THE MAKER TO POSTERITY. 195 
 
 Dear to my heart as the peat reek, 
 Auld as Tantallon. 
 
 "Few spak it than an' noo there's none. 
 My puir auld sangs lie a' their lane, 
 Their sense, that aince was braw an' plain, 
 
 Tint a'thegether, 
 Like runes upon a standin' stane 
 
 Amang the heather. 
 
 "But think not you the brae to speel; 
 You, tae, maun chow the bitter peel; 
 For a' your lear, for a' your skeel, 
 
 Ye 're nane sae lucky; 
 An' things are mebbe waur than weel 
 
 For you, my buckle. 
 
 "The hale concern (baith hens an' eggs, 
 Baith books an' writers, stars an' clegs) 
 Noo stachers upon lowsent legs 
 
 An' wears awa' ; 
 The tack o' mankind, near the dregs, 
 
 Rins unco law.
 
 196 THE MAKER TO POSTERITY. 
 
 "Your book, that in some braw new tongue, 
 Ye wrote or prentit, pretched or sung, 
 Will still be just a bairn, an' young 
 
 In fame an' years, 
 Whan the hale planet's guts are dung 
 
 About your ears; 
 
 "An' you, sair gruppin' to a spar 
 Or whammled wi' some bleezin' star, 
 Cryin' toe ken whaur deil ye are, 
 
 Hame, France or Flanders 
 Whang sindry like a railway car 
 
 An' flie in danders."
 
 II. 
 
 ILLE TERRARUM. 
 
 FRAE nirly, nippin', Eas'lan' breeze, 
 Frae Norlan' snaw, an' haar o' seas, 
 Weel happit in your gairden trees, 
 
 A bonny bit, 
 Atween the muckle Pentland's knees, 
 
 Secure ye sit. 
 
 Beeches an' aiks entwine their theek, 
 An' firs, a stench, atild- far rant clique. 
 A' simmer day, your chimleys reek, 
 Couthy and bien ; 
 
 An' here an' there your windies keek 
 Amang the green. 
 
 A pickle plats an' paths an' posies, 
 A vvheen auld gillyflowers an' roses: 
 A ring o' wa's the hale encloses 
 Frae sheep or men ; 
 197
 
 igg ILLE TERRARUM. 
 
 An' there the auld housie beeks an' dozes 
 A' by her lane. 
 
 The gairdner crooks his weary back 
 
 A' day in the pitaty-track, 
 
 Or mebbe stops a while to crack 
 
 Wi' Jane the cook, 
 Or at some buss, worm-eaten-black, 
 
 To gie a look. 
 
 Frae the high hills the curlew ca's ; 
 The sheep gang baaing by the wa's ; 
 Or whiles a clan o' roosty craws 
 
 Cangle together ; 
 The wild bees seek the gairden raws, 
 
 Weariet wi' heather. 
 
 Or in the gloamin' douce an* gray 
 The sweet-throat mavis tunes her lay ; 
 The herd comes linkin' doun the brae ; 
 
 An' by degrees 
 The muckle siller miine maks way 
 
 Amang the trees.
 
 ILLE TERR ARUM. 199 
 
 Here aft hae I, wi' sober heart, 
 For meditation sat apairt, 
 When orra loves or kittle art 
 
 Perplexed my mind ; 
 Here socht a balm for ilka smart 
 
 O' humankind. 
 
 Here aft, weel neukit by my lane, 
 Wi' Horace, or perhaps Montaigne, 
 The mornin' hours hae come an' gane 
 
 Abiine my heid 
 I wadnae gi ? en a chucky-stane 
 
 For a' I'd read. 
 
 But noo the auld city, street by street, 
 An' winter fu' o' snaw an' sleet, 
 A while shut in my gangrel feet 
 
 An' goavin' mettle ; 
 Noo is the soopit ingle sweet, 
 
 An' liltin' kettle. 
 
 An' noo the winter winds complain; 
 Cauld lies the glaur in ilka lane ;
 
 200 ILLE TERRARUM. 
 
 On draigled hizzic, tautit wean, 
 
 An' drucken lads. 
 In the mirk nicht, the winter rain 
 
 Dribbles air blads. 
 
 Whan bugles frae the Castle rock, 
 An' beaten drums, wi' dowie shock, 
 Wauken, at cauld-rife sax o'clock, 
 
 My chitterin' frame, 
 I mind me on the kintry cock, 
 
 The kintry hame. 
 
 I mind me on yon bonny bield ; 
 An' Fancy traivels far afield 
 To gaither a' that gairdens yield 
 
 O' sun an' Simmer: 
 To hearten up a dowie chield, 
 
 Fancy's the limmer !
 
 III. 
 
 WHEN aince Aprile has fairly come, 
 An' birds may bigg in winter's lum, 
 An' pleisure's spreid for a' and some 
 
 O' whatna state, 
 Love, wi' her auld recruitin' drum, 
 
 Than taks the gate. 
 
 The heart plays dtmt wi' main an' micht ; 
 The lasses' een are a' sae bricht, 
 Their dresses are sae braw an' ticht, 
 
 The bonny birdies ! 
 Puir winter virtue at the sicht 
 
 Gangs heels ower hurdies. 
 
 An' aye as love frae land to land 
 Tirls the drum wi' eident hand, 
 A' men collect at her command 
 
 Toun-bred or land'art, 
 An' follow in a denty band 
 Her gaucy standard. 
 aoi
 
 202 AINCE APRILE HAS FAIRLY COME. 
 
 An' I, wha sang o' rain an' snaw, 
 An' weary winter weel awa', 
 Noo busk me in a jacket braw, 
 
 An' tak my place 
 F the ram-stam, harum-scarum raw 
 
 Wi' smilin 7 face.
 
 IV. 
 A MILE AN' A BITTOCK. 
 
 A MILE an' a bittock, a mile or twa, 
 Abiine the burn, ayont the law, 
 Davie an' Donal an' Cherlie an' a', 
 An' the miine was shinin' clearly ! 
 
 Ane went hame wi' the ither, an' then 
 The ither went hame wi' the ither twa men, 
 An' baith wad return him the service again, 
 An' the miine was shinin' clearly ! 
 
 The clocks were chappin' in house an' ha', 
 Eleeyen, twal, an' ane an' twa ; 
 An' the guidman's face was turnt to the wa', 
 An' the miine was shinin' clearly ! 
 
 A wind got up frae affa the sea, 
 It blew the stars as dear's could be, 
 203
 
 204 A MILE AN' A BITTOCK. 
 
 It blew in the een of a' o' the three, 
 An' the miine was shinin' clearly ! 
 
 Xoo, Davie was first to get sleep in his head, 
 ''The best o' frien's maun twine," he said ; 
 "I'm \veariet. an' here I'm awa' to my bed." 
 An' the miine was shinin' clearly ! 
 
 Twa o' them walkin' an' crackin' their lane, 
 The inornin' licht cam gray an' plain, 
 An' the birds they yammert on stick an' stane, 
 An' the miine was shinin' clearly! 
 
 O years ayont, O years awa'. 
 My lads, ye'll mind whate'er befa' 
 My lads, ye'll mind on the bield o' the law, 
 When the miine was shinin' clearly.
 
 V. 
 A LOWDEN SABBATH MORN. 
 
 THE clinkum-clank o' Sabbath bells 
 Noo to the hoastin' rookery swells, 
 Noo faintin' laigh in shady dells, 
 
 Sounds far an' near, 
 An' through the simmer kintry tells 
 
 Its tale o' cheer. 
 
 An' noo, to that melodious play, 
 A' deidly awn the quiet sway 
 A' ken their solemn holiday, 
 
 Bestial an' human, 
 The singin' lintie on the brae, 
 
 The restin' plou'man. 
 
 He, mair than a' the lave o' men, 
 His week completit joys to ken ; 
 Half-dressed, he daunders out an' in, 
 Perplext wi' leisure ; 
 205
 
 206 A LOIVDEN SABBATH MORN. 
 
 An' his raxt limbs he'll rax again 
 Wi' painfii' pleesure. 
 
 The steerin' mither strang afit 
 Noo shoos the bairnies but a bit ; 
 Noo cries them ben, their Sinday shuit 
 
 To scart upon them, 
 Or sweeties in their pouch to pit, 
 
 Wi' blessin's on them. 
 
 The lasses, clean frae tap to taes, 
 Are busked in crunklin' underclaes ; 
 The gartened hose, the weel-filled stays, 
 
 The nakit shift, 
 A' bleached on bonny greens for days, 
 
 An' white's the drift. 
 
 An' noo to face the kirkward mile : 
 The guidman's hat o' dacent style, 
 The blackit shoon, we noo maun fyle 
 
 As white's the miller ; 
 A waefii peety tae, to spile 
 
 The vvarth o' siller.
 
 A LOWD1-X SA It II AT II MORN. 207 
 
 Our Marg'et, aye sae keen to crack, 
 Douce-stappin' in the stoury track, 
 Her emeralt goun a' kiltit back 
 
 Frac snawy coats. 
 \\~hite-ankled, leads the kirkvvard pack 
 
 Wi' Dauvit Groats. 
 
 A thocht ahint, in runkled breeks 
 A' spiled \vi' lyin' by for weeks, 
 The guidman follows closs, an' cleiks 
 
 The sonsie missis ; 
 His sarious face at aince bespeaks 
 
 The day that this is. 
 
 And aye an' while we nearer draw 
 To whaur the kirton lies alaw, 
 Mair neebors, comin' saft an' slaw 
 
 Frae here an' there, 
 The thicker thrang the gate an' caw 
 
 The stour in air. 
 
 But hark! the bells frae nearer clang; 
 To rowst the slaw, their sides they bang;
 
 208 A LOW DEN SABBATH MORN-. 
 
 An' see! black coats a'ready thrang 
 
 The green kirkyaird, 
 And at the yett, the chestnuts spang 
 
 That brocht the laird. 
 
 The solemn elders at the plate 
 Stand drinkin' deep the pride o' state : 
 That practised hands as gash an' great 
 
 As Lords o' Session; 
 The later named, a wee thing blate 
 
 In their expression. 
 
 The prentit stanes that mark the deid, 
 Wi' lengthened lip, the sarious read; 
 Syne wag a moraleesin' heid, 
 An' then an' there 
 
 Their hirplin' practice an' their creed 
 Try hard to square. 
 
 It's here our Merren lang has lain, 
 
 A wee bewast the table-stane ; 
 
 An' yon's the grave o' Sandy Blane; 
 
 An' further ower, 
 The mither's brithers, dacent men ! 
 
 Lie a' the fower.
 
 A LOW DEN SABBATH MORN. 209 
 
 Here the guidman sail bide awee 
 To dwall amang the deid ; to see 
 Auld faces clear in fancy's e'e; 
 
 Belike to hear 
 Auld voices fa'in' saft an' slee 
 
 On fancy's ear. 
 
 Thus, on the day o' solemn things, 
 The bell that in the steeple swings 
 To fauld a scaittered faim'ly rings 
 
 Its walcorne screed ; 
 An' just a wee thing nearer brings 
 
 The quick an' deid. 
 
 But noo the bell is ringin' in ; 
 To tak their places, folk begin ; 
 The minister himsel' will shiine 
 
 Be up the gate, 
 Filled fif wi' clavers about sin 
 
 An' man's estate. 
 
 The tunes are up French, to be shure, 
 The faith fii' French, an' twa-three mair. 
 The auld prezentor, hoastin' sair, 
 Wales out the portions,
 
 2io A LOH'DEX SABBATH MORN. 
 
 An' yirks the time into the air 
 \Yi* queer contortions. 
 
 Follows the prayer, the readin' next, 
 An' then the fisslin' for the text 
 The- twa-three last to find it, vext 
 
 But kind o' proud : 
 An' than the peppermints are raxed, 
 
 An' southernwood. 
 
 For noo's the time whan pows are seen 
 Nid-noddin' like a mandareen ; 
 When tenty mithers stap a preen 
 
 In sleepin' weans ; 
 An' nearly half the parochine 
 
 Forget their pains. 
 
 There's just a waukrit" twa or three: 
 Thrawn commentautors sweer to 'gree, 
 Weans glowrin' at the bumblin' bee 
 
 On windie-glasses, 
 Or lads that tak a keek a-glee 
 
 At sonsie lasses.
 
 A LOWDEN SABBATH MORN. 211 
 
 Himsel', meanwhile, frac whaur he cocks 
 An' bobs belaw the soundin'-box, 
 The treesures of his words unlocks 
 
 Wi' prodigality, 
 An' deals some unco dingin' knocks 
 
 To infidality. 
 
 Wi' sappy unction, hoo he burkes 
 The hopes o' men that trust in works, 
 Expounds the fau'ts o' ither kirks, 
 
 An' shaws the best o' them 
 No muckle better than mere Turks, 
 
 When a' 's confessed o' them. 
 
 Bethankit ! what a bonny creed ! 
 
 What mair could ony Christian need ? 
 
 The braw words rumm'le ower his heid, 
 
 Nor steer the sleeper ; 
 An' in their restin' graves the deid 
 
 Sleep aye the deeper. 
 
 NOTE. It may be guessed by some that I had a certain 
 parish in my eye, and this makes it proper I should add a 
 word of disclamation. In my time there have been two 
 ministers in that parish. Of the first I have a special
 
 212 A LOW DEN SABBATH MORN. 
 
 reason to speak well, even had there been any to think 
 ill. The second I have often met in private, and long (in 
 the due phrase) "sat under" in his church, and neither 
 here nor there have I heard an unkind or ugly word upon 
 his lips. The preacher of the text had thus no original in 
 that particular parish ; but when I was a boy, he might 
 have been observed in many others ; he was then (like 
 the schoolmaster) abroad; and, by recent advices, it 
 would seem he has not yet entirely disappeared
 
 VI. 
 
 THE SPAEWIFE. 
 
 O, I wad like to ken to the beggar-wife says I 
 Why chops are guid to bander and nane sae guid 
 
 to fry. 
 An' siller, that 's sae braw to keep, is brawer still 
 
 to gi'e. 
 It's gey an' easy spierin', says the beggar-wife 
 
 to me. 
 
 O, I wad like to ken to the beggar-wife says I 
 Hoo a' things come to be whaur we find them 
 
 when we try, 
 
 The lasses in their claes an' the fishes in the sea. 
 It's gey an' easy spierin', says the beggar-wife 
 
 to me. 
 
 O, I wad like to ken to the beggar-wife says I 
 Why lads are a' to sell an' lasses a' to buy ; 
 An* naebody for dacency but barely twa or three 
 It's gey an' easy spierin', says the beggar-wife 
 to me. 
 
 213
 
 214 THE SPAEWIFE. 
 
 O, I wad like to ken to the beggar-wife says I 
 Gin death's as shure to men as killin' is to kye, 
 Why God has filled the yearth sae fir o' tasty 
 
 things to pree. 
 It's gey an' easy spierin', says the beggar-wife 
 
 to me. 
 
 O. I wad like to ken to the beggar-wife says I 
 The reason o' the cause an' the wherefore o' the 
 
 why, 
 Wi' mony anither riddle brings the tear unto my 
 
 e'e. 
 It's gey an' easy spierin', says the beggar-wife 
 
 to me.
 
 VII. 
 THE BLAST 1875. 
 
 IT'S rain in'. Weet's the gairden sod, 
 Weet the lang roads whaur gangrels plod- 
 A maist unceevil thing o' God 
 
 In mid July 
 If ye'll just curse the sneckdraw, dod! 
 
 An' sae wull I ! 
 
 % 
 
 He's a braw place in heev'n, ye ken, 
 An' lea's us puir, forjaskit men 
 Clam jam fried in the but and ben 
 
 He ca's the earth 
 A wee bit inconvenient den 
 
 No muckle worth ; 
 
 An' whiles, at orra times, keeks out, 
 Sees what puir mankind are about ; 
 An' if He can, I've little doubt, 
 Upsets their plans ; 
 215
 
 216 THE BLAST 1875. 
 
 He hates a' mankind, brainch and root, 
 An a' that's man's. 
 
 An' whiles, whan they tak heart again, 
 An' life i' the sun looks braw an' plain, 
 Doun comes a jaw o' droukin' rain 
 
 Upon their honours 
 God sends a spate outower the plain, 
 
 Or mebbe thun'ers. 
 
 - Lord safe us, life's an unco thing! 
 Simmer air Winter, Yule an' Spring, 
 The damned, dour-heartit seasons bring 
 
 A feck o' trouble. 
 I wadna try 't to be a king 
 
 No, nor for double. 
 
 But since we're in it, willy-nilly, 
 We maun be watchfu', wise, and skilly 
 An' no mind ony ither billy, 
 
 Lassie nor God. 
 But drink that's my best counsel till 'e 
 
 Sae tak the nod.
 
 VIII. 
 THE COUNTERBLAST 1886. 
 
 MY bonny man, the warld, it's true, 
 Was made for neither me nor you ; 
 It's just a place to warstle through, 
 
 As Job confessed o't ; 
 And aye the best that we '11 can do 
 
 Is mak the best o't. 
 
 There's rowth o' wrang, I'm free to say, 
 The simmer brunt, the winter blae, 
 The face of earth a' fyled wi' clay 
 
 An' dour wi' chuckies, 
 An' life a rough an' land'art play 
 
 For country buckies. 
 
 An' food's anither name for clart; 
 An' beasts an' brambles bite an' scart ; 
 An' what would WE be like, my heart ! 
 If bared o' claethin'? 
 217
 
 2i8 THE COUNTERBLAST 1886. 
 
 Aweel, I cannae mend your cart : 
 It's that or naethin'. 
 
 A feck o' folk frae first to last 
 
 Have through this queer experience passed ; 
 
 Twa-three, I ken, just damn an' blast 
 
 The. hale transaction ; 
 But twa-three ithers, east an' wast, 
 
 Fand satisfaction. 
 
 Whaur braid the briery muirs expand, 
 
 A waefii' an' a weary land, 
 
 The bumblebees, a gowden band, 
 
 Are blithely hingin'; 
 An' there the canty wanderer land 
 
 The laverock singin'. 
 
 Trout in the burn grow great as herr'n', 
 The simple sheep can find their fair'n' ; 
 The wind blaws clean about the cairn 
 
 Wi' caller air; 
 The muircock an' the barefit bairn 
 
 Are happy there.
 
 THE COUNTERBLAST 1886. 219 
 
 Sic-like the howes o' life to some : 
 
 Green loans whaur they ne'er fash their thumb, 
 
 But mark the muckle winds that come, 
 
 Soopin' an' cool, 
 Or hear the povvrin' burnie drum 
 
 In the shilfa's pool. 
 
 The evil wi' the guid they tak; 
 They ca' a gray thing gray, no black; 
 To a steigh brae, a stubborn back 
 
 Addressin' daily ; 
 An' up the rude, unbieldy track 
 
 O' life, gang gayly. 
 
 What you would like 's a palace ha', 
 Or Sinday parlour dink an' braw, 
 Wi' a' things ordered in a raw 
 
 By denty leddies. 
 Weel, than, ye cannae hae't ; that's a' 
 
 That to be said is. 
 
 An' since at life ye've taen the grue, 
 An' winnae blithely hirsle through,
 
 220 Til II COL'. \Tkkti LAST 1886. 
 
 Ye've fund the very thing to do 
 That's to drink speerit ; 
 
 An' shiine we'll hear the last o' you 
 An' blithe to hear it! 
 
 The shoon ye coft, the life ye lead, 
 Ithers will heir when aince ye're deid ; 
 They'll heir your tasteless bite o' breid, 
 
 An' find it sappy ; 
 They'll to your dulefu' house succeed, 
 
 An' there be happy. 
 
 As whan a glum an' fractious wean 
 Has sat an' sullened by his lane 
 Till' \\T a rowstin' skelp, he's taen 
 
 An' shoo'd to bed 
 The ither bairns a' fa' to play'n', 
 
 As gleg's a gled.
 
 IX. 
 THE COUNTERBLAST IRONICAL. 
 
 IT'S strange that God should fash to frame 
 
 The yearth and lift sac hie, 
 An' clean forget to explain the same 
 
 To a gentleman like me. 
 
 They gutsy, donnered ither folk, 
 
 Their weird they weel may dree ; 
 
 But why present a pig in a poke 
 To a gentleman like me? 
 
 They ither folk their parritch eat 
 
 An' sup their sugared tea ; 
 But the mind is no to be wyled vvi' meat 
 
 Wi' a gentleman like me. 
 
 They ither folk, they court their joes 
 At gloamin' on the lea ; 
 
 221
 
 222 THE COUNTERBLAST IRONICAL. 
 
 But they're made of a commoner clay, I suppose, 
 Than a gentleman like me. 
 
 They ither folk, for richt or wrang, 
 
 They suffer, bleed, or dee ; 
 But a' thir things are an emp'y sang 
 
 To a gentleman like me. 
 
 It's a different thing that I demand, 
 
 Tho' humble as can be 
 A statement fair in my Maker's hand 
 
 To a gentleman like me : 
 
 A clear account writ fair an' broad, 
 
 An' a plain apologie; 
 Or the dcevil a ceevil word to God 
 
 From a gentleman like me.
 
 X. 
 
 THEIR LAUREATE TO AN ACADEMY 
 CLASS DINNER CLUB. 
 
 DEAR Thamson class, whaure'er I gang 
 It aye comes ower me wi' a spang : 
 "Lordsake! they Thamson lads (deil hang 
 
 Of else Lord mend them!) 
 An' that ivanchancy annual sang 
 
 I ne'er can send them!" 
 
 Straucht, at the name a trusty tyke, 
 My conscience girrs ahint the dyke ; 
 Straucht on my hinderlands I fyke 
 
 To find a rhyme t' ye ; 
 Pleased although mebbe no pleased-like 
 
 To gie my time t' ye. 
 
 "Wed," an' says you, wi' heavin' breist, 
 "Sae far, sae guid, but what's the neist? 
 223
 
 224 TO A DINNER CLUB. 
 
 Yearly we gaither to the feast, 
 
 A' hopefu' men 
 Yearly we skclloch 'Hang the beast- 
 
 Nae sang again !' " 
 
 My lads, an' what am I to say? 
 Ye shiirely ken the Muse's way : 
 Yestreen, as gleg's a tyke the day, 
 
 Thrawn like a cuddy : 
 Her conduc', that to her's a play, 
 
 Deith to a body. 
 
 Aft whan I sat an' made my mane, 
 Aft whan I laboured burd-alane 
 Fishin' for rhymes an' findin' nane, 
 
 Or nane were fit for ye 
 Ye judged me cauld's a chucky stane- 
 
 No car'n' a bit for ye ! 
 
 But saw ye ne'er some pingein* bairn 
 As weak as a pitaty-par'n' 
 Less iiscd wi' guidin' horse-shoe aim 
 Than steerin' cvowdie
 
 TO A DINNER CLUB. 225 
 
 Packed aff his lane, by moss an' cairn, 
 To ca' the howdie. 
 
 Wae's me, for the puir callant than ! 
 He wambles like a poke o' bran. 
 An' the lowse rein, as hard's he can, 
 
 Pu's, trem'lin handit ; 
 Till, blaff! upon his hinderlan' 
 
 Behanld him landit. 
 
 Sic-like I awn the weary fac' 
 Whan on my muse the gate I tak, 
 An' see her gleed e'e raxin* back 
 
 To keek ahint her ; 
 To me the brig of heev'n gangs black 
 
 As blackest winter. 
 
 "Lordsake! zve'rc off," thinks, I, "but whatirf 
 On ivhat abhorred and whinny scaur, 
 Or ivJiammled in zvhat sea o' glanr, 
 
 Will she desert me? 
 An will she just disgrace? or waur 
 
 Will she no hurt me?"
 
 226 TO A DINNER CLUB. 
 
 Kittle the quaere ! But at least 
 
 The day I've becked the fashious beast, 
 
 While she, vvi' mony a spang an' reist, 
 
 Flang heels ower bonnet ; 
 An' a' triumphant for your feast, 
 
 Hae ! there's your sonnet !
 
 XL 
 EMBRO HIE KIRK. 
 
 THE Lord Himsel' in former days 
 Waled out the proper times for praise 
 An' named the proper kind of claes 
 
 For folk to preach in: 
 Preceese and in the chief o' ways 
 
 Important teachin'. 
 
 He ordered a' things, late and air'; 
 He ordered folk to stand at prayer 
 (Although I cannae just mind where 
 
 He gave the warnin'), 
 An' pit pomatum on their hair 
 
 On Sabbath mornin'. 
 
 The hale o' life by His commands 
 Was ordered to a body's hands ; 
 But see ! this corpus juris stands 
 By a' forgotten; 
 227
 
 228 KMBRO HIE KIRK. 
 
 An' God's religion in a' lands 
 Is deid an' rotten. 
 
 While thus the lave o' mankind's lost, 
 O' Scotland still God maks His boast 
 Puir Scotland, on whose barren coast 
 
 A score or twa 
 Auld wives wi' mutches an' a hoast 
 
 Still keep His law. 
 
 In Scotland, a wheen canty, plain, 
 Douce kintry-leevin' folk retain 
 The Truth or did so aince alane 
 
 Of a' men leevin' ; 
 An' noo just twa o' them remain 
 
 Just Begg an' Niven. 
 
 For noo, unfaithfii' to the Lord 
 Auld Scotland joins the rebel horde ; 
 Her human hymn-books on the board 
 
 She noo displays : 
 An' Embro Hie Kirk's been restored 
 
 In popish ways.
 
 EMBRO HIE KIRK. 229 
 
 O punctum temporis for action 
 To a' o' the reformin' faction, 
 If yet, by ony act or paction, 
 
 Thocht, word, or sermon, 
 This dark an' damnable transaction 
 
 Micht yet determine! 
 
 For see as Doctor Begg explains 
 Hoo easy 't 's diine ! a pickle weans, 
 Wha in the Hie Street gaither stanes 
 
 By his instruction, 
 The uncovenantit, pentit panes 
 
 Ding to destruction. 
 
 Up, Niven, or ower late an' dash 
 Laigh in the glaur that carnal hash ; 
 Let spires and pews wi' gran' stramash 
 
 Thegether fa' ; 
 The rtimlin' kist o' whustles smash 
 
 In pieces sma'. 
 
 Noo choose ye out a walie hammer ; 
 About the knottit buttress clam'er;
 
 230 EMBRO HIE KIRK. 
 
 Alang the steep roof stoyt an' stammer, 
 
 A gate mis-chancy ; 
 On the aul' spire, the bells' hie cha'mer. 
 
 Dance your bit dancie. 
 
 Ding, devel, dunt, destroy, an' ruin, 
 Wi' carnal stanes the square bestrewin', 
 Till your loud chaps frae Kyle to Fruin, 
 
 Frae hell to heeven, 
 Tell the guid wark that baith are doin' 
 
 Baith Begg an' Niven.
 
 XII. 
 
 THE SCOTSMAN'S RETURN FROM 
 ABROAD. 
 
 (In a letter from Mr. Thomson to Mr. Johnstone.) 
 IN mony a foreign pairt I've been, 
 An' mony an unco ferlie seen, 
 Since, Mr. Johnstone, you and I 
 Last walkit upon Cocklerye. 
 Wi' gleg, observant een, I pass't 
 By sea an' land, through East an' Wast, 
 And still in ilka age an' station 
 Saw naething but abomination. 
 In thir uncovenantit lands 
 The gangrel Scot uplifts his hands 
 At lack of a' sectarian fiish'n, 
 An' cauld religious destitution. 
 He rins, puir man, frae place to place, 
 Tries a' their graceless means o' grace, 
 Preacher on preacher, kirk on kirk 
 This yin a stot an' thon a stirk 
 231
 
 232 THE SCOTSMAN'S 
 
 A bletherin' clan, no warth a preen, 
 As bad as Smith of Aiberdeen ! 
 
 At last, across the weary faem. 
 Frae far, outlandish pairts I came. 
 On ilka side o' me I fand 
 Fresh tokens o' my native land. 
 Wi' vvhatna joy I hailed them a' 
 The hilltaps standin' raw by raw, 
 The public house, the Hielan' birks, 
 And a' the bonny U. P. kirks! 
 But maistly thee, the bluid o' Scots, 
 Frae Maidenkirk to John o' Grots, 
 The king o' drinks, as I conceive it, 
 Talisker. Isla, or Glenlivet! 
 
 For after years wi' a pockmantie 
 Frae Zanzibar to Alicante. 
 In mony a fash an' sair affliction 
 I gie 't as my sincere conviction 
 Of a' their foreign tricks an' pliskies, 
 I maist abominate their whiskies. 
 Nae doot, themsel's, the)- ken it weel, 
 An' wi a hash o' leemon peel,
 
 RETURN FROM ABROAD. 233 
 
 An' ice an' siccan filth, they ettle 
 
 The stawsome kind o' goo to settle ; 
 
 Sic wersh apothecary's broos wi' 
 
 As Scotsmen scorn to fyle their moo's wi'. 
 
 An', man, I was a blithe hame-comer 
 Whan first I syndit out my rummer. 
 You should hae seen me then, wi' care 
 The less important pairts prepare; 
 Syne, weel contentit wi' it a' 
 Pour in the speerits wi' a jaw ! 
 I didnae drink, I didnae speak 
 I only snowkit up the reek. 
 I was sae pleased therein to paidle, 
 I sat an' plowtered wi' my ladle. 
 
 An' blithe was I. the morrow's morn, 
 To daunder through the stookit corn, 
 And after a' my strange mishanters, 
 Sit doun amang my ain dissenters. 
 An' man, it was a joy to me 
 The pu'pit an' the pews to see, 
 The pennies dirlin' in the plate, 
 The elders lookin' on in state;
 
 234 THE SCOTSMAN'S 
 
 An' 'mang the first, as it befell. 
 Wha' should I see, sir, but yoursel'? 
 
 I was, and I will no deny it, , 
 
 At the first glifT a hantle tryit 
 
 To see yoursel' in sic a station 
 
 It seemed a doubtfu dispensation. 
 
 The feelin' \vas a mere digression ; 
 
 For shiine I understood the session, 
 
 An' mindin' Aiken an' M'Neil, 
 
 I wondered they had diine sae weel. 
 
 I saw I had mysel' to blame; 
 
 For had I but remained at hame, 
 
 Aiblins though no ava' deservin' 't 
 
 They might hae named your humble servant. 
 
 The kirk was filled, the door was steeked ; 
 
 Up to the pu'pit ance I keeked ; 
 
 I was mair pleased than I can tell 
 
 It was the minister himsel' ! 
 
 Proud, proud was I to see his face, 
 
 After sae lang awa' frae grace. 
 
 Pleased as I was, I'm no denyin' 
 
 Some maitters were not edifyin' ; 
 
 For first I fand an' here was news!
 
 RETURN FROM ABROAD. 235 
 
 Mere hymn-books cockin' in the pews 
 
 A humanized abomination, 
 
 Unfit for ony congregation. 
 
 Syne, while I still was on the tenter, 
 
 I scunnered at the new prezentor; 
 
 I thocht him gesterin' an' cauld 
 
 A sair declension frae the auld. 
 
 Syne, as though a' the faith was wreckit, 
 
 The prayer was not what I'd exspeckit. 
 
 Himsel', as it appeared to me, 
 
 Was no the man he used to be. 
 
 But just as I was growin' vext 
 
 He waled a maist judeecious text, 
 
 An' launchin' into his prelections, 
 
 Swoopt, wi' a skirl, on a' defections. 
 
 what a gale was on my speerit 
 
 To hear the p'ints o' doctrine clearit, 
 And a' the horrors o' damnation 
 Set furth wi' faithfu' ministration ! 
 Nae shauchlin' testimony here 
 We were a' damned, an' that was clear. 
 
 1 owned, wi' gratitude an' wonder, 
 He was a pleisure to sit under.
 
 XIII. 
 
 LATE in the nicht in bed I lay, 
 
 The winds were at their weary play, 
 
 An' tirlin' wa's an' skirlin' wae 
 
 Through heev'n they battered ; 
 On-ding o' hail, on-blafif o' spray, 
 
 The tempest blattered. 
 
 The masoned house it dinled through; 
 It dung the ship, it cowped the coo' ; 
 The rankit aiks it overthrew. 
 
 Had braved a' weathers ; 
 The strang sea-gleds it took an' blew 
 
 Awa' like feathers. 
 
 The thraes o' fear on a' were shed. 
 An' the hair rose, an' slumber fled, 
 An' lichts were lit an' prayers were said 
 
 Through a' the kintry ; 
 An' the cauld terror clum in bed 
 
 Wi' a' an' sindry. 
 236
 
 LATE IN THE NICHT. 237 
 
 To hear in the pit-mirk on hie 
 The brangled collieshangie flie, 
 The waiT they thocht, wi' land an' sea, 
 
 Itsel' wad cowpit ; 
 An' for auld aim, the smashed debris 
 
 By God be rowpit. 
 
 Meanwhile frae far Aldeboran, 
 To folks wi' talescopes in han', 
 O' ships that cowpit, winds that ran, 
 
 Nae sign was seen, 
 But the wee warl' in sunshine span 
 
 As bricht 's a preen. 
 
 I, tae, by God's especial grace, 
 Dwall denty in a bieldy place 
 Wi' hosened feet, wi' shaven face, 
 
 Wi' dacent mainners : 
 A grand example to the race 
 
 O' tautit sinners ! 
 
 The wirid may blaw, the heathen rage, 
 The deil may start on the rampage ;
 
 238 LATE IN THE NICHT. 
 
 The sick in bed, the thief in cage 
 What's a' to me? 
 
 Cosh in my house, a sober sage, 
 I sit an' see. 
 
 An' whiles the bluid spangs to my bree, 
 To lie sae saft, to live sae free, 
 While better men maun do an' die 
 
 In unco places. 
 "Whaur's God? I cry, an' "Whae is me 
 
 To hae sic graces?" 
 
 I mind the fecht the sailors keep, 
 But fire or can'le, rest or sleep, 
 In darkness an' the muckle deep ; 
 
 An' mind beside 
 The herd that on the hills o' sheep 
 
 Has wandered wide. 
 
 I mind me on the hoastin' weans 
 The penny joes on causey stanes 
 The aid folk wi' the crazy banes, 
 Baith auld an' puir,
 
 LATE l.\ THH XJC1JT. 239 
 
 That aye maun thole the winds an' rains 
 An' labour sair. 
 
 An' whiles I'm kind o' pleased a blink, 
 An' kind o' fleyed forby, to think, 
 For a' my rowth o' meat an' drink 
 
 An' waste o' crumb, 
 I'll mebbe have to thole wi' skink 
 
 In Kingdom Come. 
 
 For God whan jowes the Judgment bell, 
 Wi' His ain Hand, His Leevin' Sel', 
 Sail ryve the guid (as Prophets tell) 
 
 Frae them that had it ; 
 And in the reamin' pat o' hell, 
 
 The rich be scaddit. 
 
 O Lord, if this indeed be sae, 
 Let daw that sair an' happy day ! 
 Again' the warl, grawn aukl an' gray, 
 
 LTp wi' your aixe! 
 An' let the puir enjoy their play 
 I'll thole my paiks.
 
 XIV. 
 
 MY CONSCIENCE. 
 
 OF a' the ills that flesh can fear. 
 The loss o' frien's. the lack o' gear. 
 A yovvlin' tyke, a glandered mear. 
 
 A lassie's nonsense 
 There's just ae thing I cannae hear, 
 
 An' that's my conscience. 
 
 Whan day (an' a' excuse ) has gane, 
 An' wark is dime, an' duty's plain. 
 An' to my chalmer a' my lane 
 
 I creep apairt. 
 My conscience! hoo the yammerin' pain 
 
 Stends to my heart ! 
 
 A' day wi' various ends in view 
 The hairsts o' time I had to pu'. 
 An' made a hash wad staw a soo, 
 Let be a man ! 
 240
 
 MY CONSCIENCE! 241 
 
 My conscience ! whan my ban's were fu', 
 Whaur were ye than ? 
 
 An' there was a' the lures o' life, 
 There pleasure skirlin' on the fife, 
 There anger, \vi' the hotchin' knife 
 
 Ground shairp in hell 
 My conscience! you that's like a wife! 
 
 Whar was yoursel'? 
 
 I ken it fine : just waitin' here, 
 
 To gar the evil waur appear. 
 
 To clart the guid, confuse the clear, 
 
 Mis-ca' the great. 
 My conscience ! an' to raise a steer 
 
 Whan a's ower late. 
 
 Sic-like, some tyke grawn auld and blind, 
 Whan thieves hrok' through the gear to p'ind, 
 Has lain his dozened length an' grinned 
 
 At the disaster ; 
 
 An' the morn's mornin', wud's the wind, 
 Yokes on his master.
 
 XV. 
 TO DOCTOR JOHN BROWN. 
 
 (Whan the dear doctor, dear to a' 
 Was still among ns here belaw, 
 I scb my pif>es his praise to blaiv 
 
 Wi' a' my speerit ; 
 But noo. Dear Doctor, he's awa', 
 An' ne'er ca hear it. ) 
 
 BY Lyne and Tyne. by Thames and Tees, 
 
 By a' the various river-Dee's, 
 
 In Mars and Manors 'yont the seas 
 
 Or here at hame, 
 Whaure'er there's kindly folk to please, 
 
 They ken your name. 
 
 They ken your name, they ken your tyke, 
 They ken the honey from your byke ; 
 But mebbe after a' your fyke, 
 (The truth to tell) 
 242
 
 TO DOCTOR JOHN BROWN. 243 
 
 It's just your honest Rab they like, 
 An' no yoursel'. 
 
 As at the gowff, some canny play'r 
 Should tee a common ba' wi' care 
 Should flourish and deleever fair 
 
 His souple shintie 
 An' the ba' rise into the air, 
 
 A leevin' lintie : 
 
 Sae in the game we writers play, 
 There comes to some a bonny day, 
 When a dear ferlie shall repay 
 
 Their years o' strife, 
 An' like your Rab, their things o' clay, 
 
 Spreid wings o' life. 
 
 Ye scarce deserved it, I'm afraid 
 You that had never learned the trade, 
 But just some idle mornin' strayed 
 
 Into the schule, 
 An' picked the fiddle up an' played 
 
 Like Neil himsel'.
 
 244 TO DOCTOR JOHN BROWN. 
 
 Your e'e was gleg, your fingers dink ; 
 Ye didna fash yoursel' to think, 
 But wove, as fast as puss can link, 
 
 Your denty web: 
 Ye stapped your pen into the ink, 
 
 An' there was Rab! 
 
 Sinsyne, whaure'er your fortune lay 
 By dowie den, by canty brae. 
 Simmer an' winter, nicht an' day, 
 
 Rab was aye wi' ye ; 
 An' a' the folk on a' the way 
 
 Were blithe to see ye. 
 
 O sir, the gods are kind indeed, 
 An' hauld ye for an honoured heid, 
 That for a wee bit clarkit screed 
 
 Sae weel reward ye, 
 An' lend puir Rabbie bein' deid 
 
 His ghaist to guard ye. 
 
 For though, whaure'er yoursel' may be, 
 We've just to turn an' glisk a wee,
 
 TO DOCTOR JOHN BROWN. 245 
 
 An' Rab at heel we're shure to see 
 
 Wi' gladsome caper : 
 The bogle of a bogle, he 
 
 A ghaist o' paper ! 
 
 And as the auld farrand hero sees 
 
 In hell a bogle Hercules, 
 
 Pit there the lesser deid to please, 
 
 While he himsel' 
 Dwalls wi' the muckle gods at ease 
 
 Far raised frae hell : 
 
 Sae the true Rabbie far has gane 
 
 On kindlier business o' his ain 
 
 Wi' aulder frien's ; an' his breist-bane 
 
 An' stumpie taiHe, 
 He birstles at a new hearth stane 
 By James and Aailie.
 
 XVI. 
 
 IT'S an overcome sooth for age an' youth 
 
 And it brooks wi' nae denial, 
 That the dearest friends are the auldest friends 
 
 And the young are just on trial. 
 
 There's a rival banld \vi' young an' auld 
 
 And it's him that has bereft me ; 
 For the surest friends are the auldest friends 
 
 And the maist o' mine hae left me. 
 
 There are kind hearts still, for friends to fill 
 And fools to take and break them : 
 
 But the nearest friends are the auldest friends 
 And the grave's the place to seek them. 
 
 246
 
 THE SONG OF RAHERO. 
 
 247
 
 TO ORI A OKI. 
 
 Ori, my brother in the island mode. 
 
 In every tongue and meaning muck my friend, 
 
 This story of your country and your clan, 
 
 In your loved house, your too mu-ch honoured guest, 
 
 I made in English. Take it, being done; 
 
 And let me sign it with the name you gave. 
 
 TERHTERA. 
 
 248
 
 THE SONG OF RAHERO : A LEGEND OF 
 TAHITI. 
 
 I. THE SLAYING OF TAMATEA. 
 
 IT fell in the days of old, as the men of Taiarapu 
 
 tell, 
 A youth went forth to the fishing, and fortune 
 
 favoured him well. 
 
 Tamatea his name : gullible, simple, and kind, 
 Comely of countenance, nimble of body, empty 
 
 of mind, 
 His mother ruled him and loved him beyond the 
 
 wont of a wife, 
 Serving the lad for eyes and living herself in his 
 
 life, 
 
 Alone from the sea and the fishing came Tama- 
 tea the fair, 
 
 Urging his boat to the beach, and the mother 
 awaited him there, 
 249
 
 250 THE SONG OF RAHERO: 
 
 "Long may you live!" said she. "Your fish- 
 ing has sped to a wish. 
 
 And now let us choose for the king the fairest 
 of all your fish. I0 
 
 For fear inhabits the palace and grudging grows 
 in the land, 
 
 Marked is the sluggardly foot and marked the 
 niggardly hand, 
 
 The hours and the miles are counted, the trib- 
 utes numbered and weighed, 
 
 And woe to him that comes short, and woe to 
 him that delayed !" 
 
 .So spoke on the beach the mother, and coun- 
 selled the wiser thing. 
 
 For Rahero stirred in the country and secretly 
 mined the king. 
 
 Nor were the signals wanting of how the leaven 
 wrought, 
 
 In the cords of obedience loosed and the trib- 
 utes grudgingly brought. 
 
 And when last to the temple of Oro the boat 
 with the victim sped,
 
 A LEGEND O/>' TAHITI. 251 
 
 And the priest uncovered the basket and looked 
 on the face of the dead, 2 
 
 Trembling fell upon all at sight of an ominous 
 thing, 
 
 For there was the aito 1 : dead, and he of the house 
 of the king. 
 
 So spake on the beach the mother, matter worthy 
 
 of note, 
 And wattled a basket well, and chose a fish from 
 
 the boat ; 
 And Tamatea the pliable shouldered the basket 
 
 and went. 
 And travelled, and sang as he travelled, a lad 
 
 that was well content. 
 Still the way of his going was round by the 
 
 roaring coast. 
 Where the ring of the reef is broke and the trades 
 
 run riot the most. 
 On his left, with smoke as of battle, the billows 
 
 battered the land ; 
 Unscalable, turreted mountains rose on the inner 
 
 hand. 30
 
 252 
 
 And cape, and village and river, and vale, and 
 mountain above, 
 
 Each had a- name in the land for men to remem- 
 ber and love ; 
 
 And never the name of a place, but lo! a song 
 in its praise : 
 
 Ancient and unforgotten, songs of the earlier 
 days. 
 
 That the elders taught to the young, and at night, 
 in the full of the moon, 
 
 Garlanded boys and maidens sang together in 
 tune. 
 
 Tamatea the placable went with a lingering foot ; 
 
 He sang as loud as a bird, he whistled hoarse 
 as a flute ; 
 
 He broiled in the sun, he breathed in the grate- 
 ful shadow of trees, 
 
 In the icy stream of the rivers he waded over the 
 knees ; 
 
 And still in his empty mind crowded, a thousand- 
 fold, 
 
 The deeds of the strong and the songs of the 
 cunning heroes of old.
 
 A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 253 
 
 And now was he come to a place Taiarapu hon- 
 oured the most, 
 Where a silent valley of woods debouched on 
 
 the noisy coast, 
 
 Spewing a level river. There was a haunt of Pai.* 
 There, in his potent youth, when his parents 
 
 drove him to die, 
 Honoura lived like a beast, lacking the lamp and 
 
 the fire, 
 Washed by the rains of the trade and clotting 
 
 his hair in the mire ; 
 And there, so mighty his hands, he bent the tree 
 
 to his foot 
 So keen the spur of his hunger, he plucked it 
 
 naked of fruit. so 
 
 There, as she pondered the clouds for the shadow 
 
 of coming ills, 
 Ahupu, the woman of song, walked on high on 
 
 the hills. 
 
 Of these was Rahero sprung, a man. of a godly 
 
 race; 
 And inherited cunning of spirit and beauty of 
 
 body and face.
 
 254 THE SONG OF RAHERO: 
 
 Of yore in his youth, as an aito, Rahero wan- 
 dered the land, 
 
 Delighting maids with his tongue, smiting men 
 with his hand. 
 
 Famous he was in his youth; but before the 
 midst of his life 
 
 Paused, and fashioned a song of farewell to 
 glory and strife. 
 
 House of mine (it went}, house upon the 
 
 sea, 
 Beloi/d of all my fathers, more belov'd 
 
 by me! 6o 
 
 Vale of the strong Honoura, deep ravine 
 
 of Pal, 
 Again in your woody summits I hear the 
 
 trade-wind cry. 
 
 House of mine, in your walls, strong 
 
 sounds of the sea, 
 Of all sounds on earth, dearest sound to 
 
 me. 
 I have heard the applause of men, I have 
 
 heard it arise and die: 
 Sweeter now in my house I hear the trade 
 
 wind cry.
 
 A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 255 
 
 These were the words of his singing, other the 
 thought of his heart ; 
 
 For secret desire of glory vexed him, dwelling 
 apart. 
 
 Lazy and crafty he was, and loved to lie in the 
 sun, 
 
 And loved the cackle of talk and the true word 
 uttered in fun ; 70 
 
 Lazy he was, his roof was ragged, his table was 
 lean, 
 
 And the fish swam safe in his sea, and he gath- 
 ered the near and the green. 
 
 He sat in his house and laughed, hut he loathed 
 the king of the land. 
 
 And he uttered the grudging word under the 
 covering hand. 
 
 Treason spread from his door ; and he looked 
 for a day to come, 
 
 A day of the crowding people, a day of the sum- 
 moning drum, 
 
 When the vote should be taken, the king be 
 driven forth in disgrace, 
 
 And Rahero, the laughing and lazy, sit and 
 rule in his place.
 
 256 THE SONG OF RAHERO: 
 
 Here Tamatea came, and beheld the house on 
 the brook ; 
 
 And Rahero was there by the way and cov- 
 ered an oven to cook, 3 80 
 
 Naked he was to the loins, but the tattoo cov- 
 ered the lack, 
 
 And the sun and the shadow of palms dappled 
 his muscular back. 
 
 Swiftly he lifted his head at the fall of the com- 
 ing- feet. 
 
 And the water sprang in his mouth with a sud- 
 den desire of meat ; 
 
 For he marked the basket carried, covered from 
 flies and the sun ; 4 
 
 And Rahero buried his fire, but the meat in his 
 house was done. 
 
 Forth he stepped ; and took, and delayed the boy, 
 
 by the hand; 
 And vaunted the joys of meat and the ancient 
 
 ways of the land : 
 "Our sires of old in Taiarapu, they that created 
 
 the race,
 
 A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 257 
 
 Ate ever with eager hand, nor regarded season 
 
 or place 90 
 
 Ate in the boat at the oar, on the way afoot; 
 
 and at night 
 Arose in the midst of dreams to rummage the 
 
 house for a bite. 
 It is good for the youth in his turn to follow 
 
 the way of the sire; 
 And behold how fitting the time ! for here do 
 
 [ cover my fire." 
 "I see the fire for the cooking but never the 
 
 meat to cook," 
 Said Tamatea. "Tut!" said Rahero. "Here in 
 
 the brook 
 And there in the tumbling sea, the fishes are 
 
 thick as flies. 
 Hungry like healthy men, and like pigs for 
 
 savour and size: 
 Crayfish crowding the river, sea-fish thronging 
 
 the sea." 
 "Well it may be," says the other, "and yet be 
 
 nothing to me. 100 
 
 Fain would I eat, but alas ! I have needful mat- 
 ter in hand,
 
 258 THE SONG OF RAHERO: 
 
 Since I carry my tribute of fish to the jealous 
 king of the land." 
 
 Now at the word a light sprang in Rahero's eyes. 
 "I will gain me a dinner," thought he, "and lend 
 
 the king a surprise." 
 And he took the lad by the arm, as they stood 
 
 by the side of the track, 
 And smiled, and rallied, and flattered, and pushed 
 
 him forward and back. 
 It was "You that sing like a bird, I never have 
 
 heard you sing," 
 And "The lads when I was a lad were none so 
 
 feared of a king. 
 And of what account is an hour, when the heart 
 
 is empty of guile? 
 But come, and sit in the house and laugh with 
 
 the women awhile; " 
 
 And I will but drop my hook, and behold ! the 
 
 dinner made." 
 
 So Tamatea the pliable hung up his fish in the 
 shade
 
 A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 259 
 
 On a tree by the side of the way; and Rahero 
 carried him in, 
 
 Smiling as smiles the fowler when flutters the 
 bird to the gin, 
 
 And chose him a shining hook, 5 and viewed it 
 with sedulous eye, 
 
 And breathed and burnished it well on the brawn 
 of his naked thigh, 
 
 And set a mat for the gull, and bade him be merry 
 and bide, 
 
 Like a man concerned for his guest, and the fish- 
 ing, and nothing beside. 
 
 Now when Rahero was forth, he paused and 
 
 hearkened, and heard 
 The gull jest in the house and the women laugh 
 
 at his word; I2 
 
 And stealthily crossed to the side of the way to 
 
 the shady place 
 Where the basket hung on a mango; and craft 
 
 transfigured his face. 
 Deftly he opened the basket, and took of the fat 
 
 of the fish,
 
 260 THE SONG OF RAHERO: 
 
 The cut of kings and chieftains, enough for a 
 
 goodly dish. 
 
 This he wrapped in a leaf, set on the fire to cook 
 And buried ; and next the marred remains of the 
 
 tribute he took, 
 And doubled and packed them well, and covered 
 
 the basket close 
 "There is a buffet, my king," quoth he, "and 
 
 a nauseous dose !"- 
 And hung the basket again in the shade, in a 
 
 cloud of flies 
 "And there is a sauce to your dinner, king 
 
 of the crafty eyes!" '3<> 
 
 Soon as the oven was open, the fish smelt ex- 
 cellent good. 
 
 In the shade, by the house of Rahero, down they 
 sat to their food, 
 
 And cleared the leaves 8 in silence, or uttered a 
 jest and laughed, 
 
 And raising the cocoanut bowls, buried their 
 faces and quaffed.
 
 A LEGEND OF TAHITi. 261 
 
 But chiefly in silence they ate ; and soon as the 
 meal was done, 
 
 Rahero feigned to remember and measured the 
 hour by the sun, 
 
 And "Tamatea," quoth he, "it is time to be jog- 
 ging, my lad." 
 
 So Tamatea arose, doing ever the thing he was 
 
 bade, 
 And carelessly shouldered the basket, and kindly 
 
 saluted his host ; 
 And again the way of his going was round by 
 
 the roaring coast. ** 
 
 Long he went; and at length was aware of a 
 
 pleasant green, 
 And the stems and shadows of palms, and roofs 
 
 of lodges between. 
 There sate, in the door of his palace, the king 
 
 on a kingly seat, 
 And aitos stood armed around, and the yottowas 7 
 
 sat at his feet. 
 But fear was a worm in his heart : fear darted 
 
 his eyes;
 
 262 THE SONG OF RAHERO: 
 
 And he probed men's faces for treasons and pon- 
 dered their speech for lies. 
 
 To him came Tamatea, the basket slung in his 
 hand, 
 
 And paid him the due obeisance standing as vas- 
 sals stand. 
 
 In silence hearkened the king, and closed the 
 eyes in his face, 
 
 Harbouring odious thoughts and the baseless 
 fears of the base; T SO 
 
 In silence accepted the gift and sent the giver 
 away. 
 
 So Tamatea departed, turning his back on the 
 day. 
 
 And lo ! as the king sat brooding, a rumour rose 
 in the crowd ; 
 
 The yottowas nudged and whispered, the com- 
 mons murmured aloud; 
 
 Tittering fell upon all at sight of the impudent 
 thing, 
 
 At the sight of a gift unroyal flung in the face 
 of a king.
 
 A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 263 
 
 And the face of the king turned white and red 
 
 with anger and shame 
 In their midst; and the heart in his body was 
 
 water and then was flame; 
 Till of a sudden, turning, he gripped an aito 
 
 hard, 
 A youth that stood with his omare, 8 one of the 
 
 daily guard, l6 
 
 And spat in her ear a command, and pointed and 
 
 uttered a name, 
 And hid in the shade of the house his impotent 
 
 anger and shame. 
 
 Now Tamatea the fool was far on the homeward 
 
 way. 
 The rising night in his face, behind him the dying 
 
 day. 
 Rahero saw him go by, and the heart of Rahero 
 
 was glad, 
 Devising shame to the king and nowise harm to 
 
 the lad; 
 And all that dwelt by the way saw and saluted 
 
 him well,
 
 264 THE SONG OF RAHERO: 
 
 For he had the face of a friend and the news of 
 
 the town to tell; 
 And pleased with the notice of folk, and pleased 
 
 that his journey was done, 
 Tamatea drew homeward, turning his back to 
 
 the sun. 170 
 
 And now was the hour of the bath in Taiarapu : 
 
 far and near 
 The lovely laughter of bathers rose and delighted 
 
 his ear. 
 
 Night massed in the valleys ; the sun on the moun- 
 tain coast 
 Struck, end-long ; and above the clouds embattled 
 
 their host. 
 And glowed and gloomed on the heights ; and the 
 
 heads of the palms were gems, 
 And far to the rising eve extended the shade of 
 
 their stems ; 
 And the shadow of Tamatea hovered already at 
 
 home. 
 
 And sudden the sound of one coming and run- 
 ning light as the foam
 
 A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 265 
 
 Struck on his ear ; and he turned, and lo ! a man 
 
 on his track, 
 Girded and armed with an omare, following hard 
 
 at his back. l8 
 
 At a bound the man was upon him; and, or 
 
 ever a word was said, 
 The loaded end of the omare fell and laid him 
 
 dead. 
 
 II. THE VENGING OF TAMATEA. 
 
 Thus was Rahero's treason ; thus and no further 
 
 it sped. 
 The king sat safe in his place and a kindly fool 
 
 was dead. 
 
 But the mother of Tamatea arose with death in 
 
 her eyes. 
 All night long, and the next, Taiarapu rang with 
 
 her cries. 
 As when a babe in the wood turns with a chill 
 
 of doubt 
 And perceives nor home, nor friends, for the 
 
 trees have closed her about,
 
 266 THE SONG OF RAHERO: 
 
 The mountain rings and her breast is torn with 
 
 the voice of despair : 
 
 So the lion-like woman idly wearied the air 190 
 For awhile, and pierced men's hearing in vain, 
 
 and wounded their hearts. 
 
 But as when the weather changes at sea, in dan- 
 gerous parts, 
 And sudden the hurricane wrack unrolls up the 
 
 front of the sky, 
 At once the ship lies idle, the sails hang silent 
 
 on high, 
 The breath of the wind that blew is blown out 
 
 like the flame of a lamp, 
 And the silent armies of death draw near with 
 
 inaudible tramp: 
 So sudden, the voice of her weeping ceased ; in 
 
 silence she rose 
 And passed from the house of her sorrow, a 
 
 woman clothed with repose, 
 Carrying death in her breast and sharpening death 
 
 with her hand. 
 
 Hither she went and thither in all the coasts of 
 the land. . 200
 
 A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 267 
 
 They tell that she feared not to slumber alone, 
 
 in the dead of night, 
 
 In accursed places; beheld, unblenched, the rib- 
 bon of light 9 
 Spin from temple to temple ; guided the perilous 
 
 skiff, 
 Abhorred not the paths of the mountain and trod 
 
 the verge of the cliff; 
 From end. to end of the island, thought not the 
 
 distance long, 
 But forth from king to king carried the tale of 
 
 her wrong. 
 To king after king, as they sat in the "palace 
 
 door, she came, 
 Claiming kinship, declaiming verses, naming her 
 
 name 
 And the names of all of her fathers; and still, 
 
 with a heart on the rack, 
 Jested to capture a hearing and laughed when 
 
 they jested back; 210 
 
 So would deceive them awhile, and change and 
 
 return in a breath, 
 And on all the men of Vaiau imprecate instant 
 
 death ;
 
 268 THE SONG OF RAHERO: 
 
 And tempt her kings for Vaiau was a rich and 
 
 prosperous land, 
 
 And flatter for who would attempt it but war- 
 riors mighty of hand ? 
 And change in a breath again and rise in a strain 
 
 of song, 
 Invoking the beaten drums, beholding the fall of 
 
 the strong, 
 Calling the fowls of the air to come and feast 
 
 on the dead. 
 And they held the chin in silence, and heard her, 
 
 and shook the head ; 
 For they knew the men of Taiarapu famous in 
 
 battle and feast, 
 Marvellous eaters and smiters : the men of Vaiau 
 
 not least. 22 
 
 To the land of the Namunu-ura, 10 to Paea, at 
 
 length she came, 
 To men who were foes to the Tevas and hated 
 
 their race and name. 
 There was she well received, and spoke with 
 
 Hiopa the king. 11
 
 A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 269 
 
 And Hiopa listened, and weighed, and wisely 
 considered the thing. 
 
 "Here in the back of the isle we dwell in a shel- 
 tered place/' 
 
 Quoth he to the woman, "in quiet, a weak and 
 peaceable race. 
 
 But far in the teeth of the wind lofty Taiarapu 
 lies ; 
 
 Strong blows the wind of the trade on its sea- 
 ward face, and cries 
 
 Aloud in the top of arduous mountains, and utters 
 its song 
 
 In green continuous forests. Strong is the wind, 
 and strong 2 3 
 
 And fruitful and hardy the race, famous in bat- 
 tle and feast, 
 
 Marvellous eaters and smiters : the men of Vaiau 
 not least. 
 
 Now hearken to me, my daughter, and hear a 
 word of the wise: 
 
 How a strength goes linked with a weakness, 
 two by two, like the eyes. 
 
 They can wield the omare well and cast the jave- 
 lin far;
 
 270 THE SONG OF RAHERO: 
 
 Yet are they greedy and weak as the swine and 
 the children are. 
 
 Plant we, then, here at Paea, a garden of excel- 
 lent fruits ; 
 
 Plant we bananas and kava, and taro, the king of 
 roots; 
 
 Let the pigs in Paea be tapu 12 and no man fish 
 for a year ; 
 
 And of all the meat in Tahiti gather we three- 
 fold here. 240 
 
 So shall the fame of our plenty fill the island, 
 and so, 
 
 At last, on the tongue of rumour, go where we 
 wish it to go. 
 
 Then shall the pigs of Taiarapu raise their snouts 
 in the air; 
 
 But we sit quiet and wait, as the fowler sits by 
 the snare, , 
 
 And tranquilly fold our hands, till the pigs come 
 nosing the food : 
 
 But meanwhile build us a house of Trotea, the 
 stubborn wood,
 
 A LEGLLXf) 01-- T.-IH1TI. 271 
 
 Bind it with incombustible thongs, set a roof to 
 
 the room, 
 Too strong for the hands of man to dissever or 
 
 fire to' consume ; 
 And there, when the pigs come trotting, there 
 
 shall the feast be spread. 
 There shall the eye of the morn enlighten the 
 
 f casters dead. 2 so 
 
 So be it done ; for I have a heart that pities your 
 
 state, 
 And Nateva and Namunu-ura are fire and water 
 
 for hate." 
 
 All was done as he said, and the gardens pros- 
 pered ; and now 
 
 The fame of their plenty went out, and word of it 
 came to Vaiau. 
 
 For the men of Namunu-ura sailed, to the win- 
 ward far, 
 
 Lay in the offing by south where the towns of the 
 'Tevas are, 
 
 And cast overboard of their plenty ; and lo ! at the 
 Tevas' feet
 
 272 THE SONG OF RAHERO: 
 
 The surf on all of the beaches tumbled treasures 
 
 of meat. 
 
 In the salt of the sea, a harvest tossed with the re- 
 fluent foam ; 
 And the children gleaned it in playing, and ate 
 
 and carried it home ; 2(t 
 
 And the elders stared and debated, and wondered 
 
 and passed the jest, 
 But whenever a guest came by eagerly questioned 
 
 the guest ; 
 And little by little, from one another, the word 
 
 went round : 
 "In all the borders of Paea the victual rots on the 
 
 ground, 
 And swine are plenty as rats. And row, when 
 
 they fare to the sea, 
 The men of Namunu-ura glean from under the 
 
 tree 
 And load the canoe to the gunwale with all that is 
 
 toothsome to eat ; 
 And all day long on the sea the jaws are crushing 
 
 the meat. 
 The steersman eats at the helm, the rowers munch 
 
 at the oar,
 
 A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 273 
 
 And at length, when their bellies are full, over- 
 board with the store !" 270 
 
 Now was the word made true, and soon as the bait 
 was bare, 
 
 All the pigs of Taiarapu raised their snouts in 
 the air. 
 
 Songs were recited, and kinship was counted, and 
 tales were told 
 
 How war had severed of late but peace had ce- 
 mented of old 
 
 The clans of the island. "To war," said they, 
 "now set we and end, 
 
 And hie to the Namunu-ura even as a friend to a 
 friend." 
 
 So judged, and a clay was named ; and soon as the 
 
 morning broke, 
 Canoes were thrust in the seat and the houses 
 
 emptied of folk. 
 Strong blew the wind of the south, the wind that 
 
 gathers the clan ; 
 Along all the line of the reef the clamorous surges 
 
 ran ; 28
 
 274 THE SONG OF RAHERO: 
 
 And the clouds were piled on the top of the island 
 mountain-high, 
 
 A mountain throned on a mountain. The fleet of 
 canoes swept by 
 
 In the midst, on the green lagoon, with a crew re- 
 leased from care. 
 
 Sailing an even water, breathing a summer air. 
 
 Cheered by a cloudless sun ; and ever to left and 
 right, 
 
 Bursting surge on the reef, drenching storms on 
 the height. 
 
 So the folk of Vaiau sailed and wefe glad all day, 
 
 Coasting the palm-tree cape and crossing the pop- 
 ulous bay 
 
 By all the towns of the Tevas ; and still as they 
 bowled along, 
 
 Boat would answer to boat with jest and laughter 
 and song, 2 9 
 
 And the people of all the towns trooped to the 
 sides of the sea 
 
 And gazed from under the hand or sprang aloft 
 on the tree,
 
 A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 275 
 
 Hailing and cheering. Time failed them for more 
 
 to do; 
 The holiday village careened to the wind, and wa3 
 
 gone from view 
 Swift as a passing bird ; and ever as onward it 
 
 bore, 
 Like the cry of the passing bird, bequeathed its 
 
 song to the shore 
 Desirable laughter of maids and the cry of delight 
 
 of the child. 
 And the gazer, left behind, stared at the wake and 
 
 smiled. 
 
 By all the towns of Tevas they went, and Papara 
 
 last, 
 The home of the chief, the place of muster in war ; 
 
 and passed 300 
 
 The march of the lands of the clan, to the lands 
 
 of an alien folk. 
 And there, from the dusk of the shoreside palms, 
 
 a column of smoke 
 
 Mounted and wavered and died in the gold of the 
 i setting sun,
 
 276 THE SONG OF RAHERO: 
 
 "Paea!" they cried. "It is Paea." And so was 
 the voyage done. 
 
 In the early fall of the night, Hiopa came to the 
 
 shore, 
 And beheld and counted the comers, and lo. they 
 
 were forty score : 
 The pelting feet of the babes thai ran already 
 
 and played, 
 The clean-lipped smile of the boy, the slender 
 
 breasts of the maid, 
 And mighty limbs of women, stalwart mothers of 
 
 men. 
 The sires stood forth unabashed ; but a little back 
 
 from his ken 310 
 
 Gustered the scarcely nubile, the lads and maids, 
 
 in a ring, 
 Fain of each other, afraid of themselves, aware of 
 
 the king 
 And aping behaviour, but clinging together with 
 
 hands and eyes, 
 
 With looks that were kind like kisses, and laugh- 
 ter tender as sighs.
 
 A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 277 
 
 There, too, the grandsire stood, raising his silver 
 crest, 
 
 And the impotent hands of a suckling groped in 
 his barren breast. 
 
 The childhood of love, the pair well married, the 
 innocent brood, 
 
 The tale of the generations repeated and ever re- 
 newed 
 
 Hiopa beheld them together, all the ages of man. 
 
 And a moment shook in his purpose. 3> 
 
 But these were the foes of his clan, 
 And he trod upon pity, and came, and civilly 
 
 greeted the king. 
 And gravely entreated Rahero ; and for all that 
 
 could fight or sing, 
 And claimed a name in the land, had fitting 
 
 phrases of praise ; 
 But with all who were well-descended he spoke of 
 
 the ancient days. 
 And '"Tis true," said he, "that in Paea the victual 
 
 rots on the ground;
 
 278 THE SONG OF RAHERO: 
 
 But, friends, your number is many: and pigs 
 
 must be hunted and found, 
 And the lads troop to the mountains to bring the 
 
 feis down, 
 And around the bowls of the kava cluster the 
 
 maids of the town. 
 So, for to-night, sleep here; but king, common. 
 
 and priest 330 
 
 To-morrow, in order due, shall sit with me in the 
 
 feast." 
 Sleepless the live-long night, Hiopa's followers 
 
 toiled. 
 The pigs screamed and were slaughtered; the 
 
 spars of the guest-house oiled. 
 The leaves spread on the floor. In many a moun- 
 tain glen 
 The moon drew shadbws of trees on the naked 
 
 bodies of men 
 Plucking and bearing fruits ; and in all the bounds 
 
 of the town 
 Red glowed cocoanut fires, and were buried and 
 
 trodden down. 
 Thus did seven of the yottowas toil with their tale 
 
 of the clan,
 
 A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 279 
 
 But the eighth wrought with his lads, hid from 
 
 the sight of man. 
 In the deeps of the woods they laboured, piling 
 
 the fuel high 340 
 
 In faggots, the load of a man, fuel seasoned and 
 
 dry, 
 Thirsty to seize upon fire and apt to blurt into 
 
 flame. 
 
 And now was the day of the feast. The forests, 
 
 as morning came, 
 Tossed in the wind, and the peaks quaked in the 
 
 blaze of the day 
 
 And the cocoanuts showered on the ground, re- 
 bounding and rolling away : 
 A glorious morn for a feast, a famous wind for a 
 
 fire. 
 To the 'hall of feasting Hiopa led them, mother 
 
 and sire 
 And maid and babe in a tale, the whole of the 
 
 holiday throng. 
 Smiling the came, garlanded green, not dreaming 
 
 of wrong ;
 
 280 THE SONG OP RAHERO: 
 
 And for every three, a pig, tenderly cooked in the 
 ground, 350 
 
 Waited; and fei, the staff of life, heaped in a 
 mound 
 
 For each where he sat ; for each, bananas 
 roasted and raw 
 
 Piled with a bountiful hand, as for horses hay 
 and straw 
 
 Are stacked in a stable ; and fish, the food of de- 
 sire, 13 
 
 And plentiful vessels of sauce, and breadfruit 
 gilt in the fire; 
 
 And kava was common as water. Feasts have 
 there been ere now, 
 
 And many, but never a feast like that of the folk 
 of Vaiau. 
 
 All day long they ate with the resolute greed of 
 
 brutes, 
 And turned from the pigs to the fish, and again 
 
 from the fish to the fruits, 
 And emptied the vessels of sauce, and drank of 
 
 the kava deep; 360
 
 A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 281 
 
 Till the young lay stupid as stones, and the 
 
 strongest nodded to sleep. 
 Sleep that was mighty as death and blind as a 
 
 moonless night 
 Tethered them hand and foot ; and their souls 
 
 were drowned, and the light 
 Was cloaked from their eyes. Senseless together, 
 
 the old and the young, 
 
 The fighter deadly to smite and the prater cun- 
 ning of tongue, 
 The woman wedded and fruitful, inured to the 
 
 pangs of birth, 
 And the maid that knew not of kisses, blindly 
 
 sprawled on the earth. 
 
 From the hall Hiopa the king and his chiefs came 
 
 stealthily forth. 
 Already the sun hung low and enlightened the 
 
 peaks of the north ; 
 But the wind was stubborn to die and blew as it 
 
 blows at morn, 37 
 
 Showering the nuts in the dusk, and e'en as a 
 
 banner is torn,
 
 282 THE SONG OF RAHERO: 
 
 High on the peaks of the island, shattered the 
 
 mountain cloud. 
 And now at once, at a signal, a silent, emulous 
 
 crowd 
 Set hands to the work of death, hurrying to and 
 
 fro, 
 Like ants, to furnish the faggots, building them 
 
 broad and low, 
 And piling them high and higher around the walls 
 
 of the hall. 
 Silence persisted within, for sleep lay heavy on 
 
 all. 
 
 But the mother of Tamatea stood at Hiopa's side, 
 And shook for terror and joy like a girl that is a 
 
 bride. 
 
 Night fell on the toilers, and first Hiopa the wise 
 Made the round of the house, visiting all with his 
 
 eyes ; 380 
 
 And all was piled to the eaves, and fuel blockaded 
 
 the door ; 
 And within, in the house beleaguered, slumbered 
 
 the forty score.
 
 A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 283 
 
 Then was an aito despatched and came with fire 
 in his hand, 
 
 And Hiopa took it. "Within," said he, "is the 
 life of a land ! 
 
 And behold ! I breathe on the coal, I breathe on 
 the dales of the east, 
 
 And silence falls on forest and shore ; the voice of 
 the feast 
 
 Is quenched, and the smoke of cooking; the roof- 
 tree decays and falls 
 
 On the empty lodge, and the winds subvert de- 
 serted walls." 
 
 Therewithal, to the fuel, he laid the glowing coal ; 
 And the redness ran in the mass and burrowed 
 
 within like a mole, 390 
 
 And copious smoke was conceived. But, as when 
 
 a dam is to burst, 
 The water lips it and crosses in silver trickles at 
 
 first, 
 And then, of a sudden, whelms and bears it away 
 
 forthright :
 
 284 THE SONG OF RAHERO: 
 
 So now, in a moment, the flame sprang and tow- 
 ered in the night, 
 
 And wrestled and roared in the wind, and high 
 over house and tree, 
 
 Stood, like a streaming torch, enlightening land 
 and sea. 
 
 But the mother of Tamatea threw her arms 
 
 abroad, 
 
 "Pyre of my son,'' she shouted, "debited ven- 
 geance of God, 
 Late, late, I behold you, yet I behold you at 
 
 last, 400 
 
 And glory, beholding ! For now are the days of 
 
 my agony past, 
 The lust that famished my soul now eats and 
 
 drinks its desire, 
 And they that encompassed my son shrivel alive 
 
 in the fire. 
 Tenfold precious the vengeance that comes after 
 
 lingering years ! 
 Ye quenched the voice of my singer? hark, in 
 
 your dying ears,
 
 A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 285 
 
 The song of the conflagration! Ye left me a 
 
 widow alone? 
 Behold, the whole of your race consumes, sinew 
 
 and bone 
 And torturing flesh together: man, mother, and 
 
 maid 
 Heaped 1 in a common shambles ; and already, 
 
 borne by the trade, 
 The smoke of your dissolution darkens the stars 
 
 of night." 4io 
 
 Thus she spoke, and her stature grew in the peo- 
 ple's sight. 
 
 III. RAHERO. 
 
 Rahero was there in the hall, asleep; beside him 
 
 his wife, 
 Comely, a mirthful woman, one that delighted in 
 
 life; 
 And a girl that was ripe for marriage, shy and 
 
 sly as a mouse ; 
 And a boy, a climber of trees : all the hopes of his 
 
 house.
 
 286 THE SONG OF RAHERO: 
 
 Unwary, with open hands, he slept in the midst 
 of his folk, 
 
 And dreamed that he heard a voice crying with- 
 out, and awoke, 
 
 Leaping blindly afoot like one from a dream that 
 he fears. 
 
 A hellish glow and clouds were about him; it 
 roared in his ears 
 
 Like the sound of the cataract fall that plunges 
 sudden and steep ; 420 
 
 And Rahero swayed as he stood, and his reason 
 was still asleep. 
 
 Now the flame struck hard on the house, wind- 
 wielded, a fracturing blow, 
 
 And the end of the roof was burst and fell on the 
 sleepers below ; 
 
 And the loftly hall, and the feast, and the pros- 
 trate bodies of folk, 
 
 Shone red in his eyes a moment, and then were 
 swallowed of smoke. 
 
 In the mind of Rahero clearness came; and he 
 opened his throat ; 
 
 And as when a squall comes sudden, the strain- 
 ing sail of a boat
 
 A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 287 
 
 Thunders aloud and bursts, so thundered the 
 voice of the man. 
 
 "The wind and the rain!" he shouted, the 
 / 
 
 mustering word of the clan, 14 
 And "Up!" and "To arms, men of Vaiau!" But 
 
 silence replied, 430 
 
 Or only the voice of the gusts of the fire, and 
 
 nothing beside. 
 
 Rahero stooped and groped. He handled his 
 
 womankind, 
 But the fumes of the fire and the kava had 
 
 quenched the life of their mind, 
 And they lay like pillars prone ; and his hand en- 
 countered the boy, 
 And there sprang in the gloom of his soul a su6- 
 
 den lightning of joy. 
 "Him can I save !" he thought, "if I were speedy 
 
 enough." 
 And he loosened the cloth from his loins, and 
 
 swaddled the child in the stuff ; 
 And about the strength of his neck he knotted 
 
 the burden well.
 
 288 THE SONG OF RAHERO: 
 
 There where the roof had fallen, it roared like 
 the mouth of hell. 
 
 Thither Rahero went, stumbling on senseless 
 folk, 440 
 
 And grappled a post of the house, and began to 
 climb in the smoke: 
 
 The last alive of Vaiau : and the son borne by the 
 sire. 
 
 The post glowed in the grain with ulcers of eating 
 fire, 
 
 And the fire bit to the blood and mangled his 
 hands and thighs ; 
 
 And the fumes sang in his head like wine and 
 stung in his eyes ; 
 
 And still he climbed, and came to the top, the 
 place of proof, 
 
 And thrust a hand through the flame and clam- 
 bered to the roof. 
 
 But even as he did so, the wind, in a garment of 
 flames and pain, 
 
 Wrapped him from head to heel ; and the waist- 
 cloth parted in twain ; 
 
 And the living fruit of his loins dropped in the 
 fire below. 45
 
 A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 289 
 
 About the blazing feast-house clustered the eyes 
 of the foe, 
 
 Watching, hand upon weapon, lest ever a soul 
 should flee, 
 
 Shading the brow from the glare, straining the 
 neck to see. 
 
 Only, to leeward, the flames in the wind swept 
 far and wide, 
 
 And the forest sputtered on fire ; and there might 
 no man abide. 
 
 Thither Rahero crept, and dropped from the burn- 
 ing eaves, 
 
 And crouching low to the ground, in a treble 
 covert of leaves 
 
 And fire and volleying smoke, ran for the life of 
 his soul 
 
 Unseen ; and behind him, under a furnace of ar- 
 dent coal, 
 
 Cairned with a wonder of flame, and blotting 
 the night with smoke, 460 
 
 Blazed and were smelted together the bones of all 
 his folk.
 
 2QO THE SONG OF RAHERO: 
 
 He fled unguided at first ; but hearing the breakers 
 
 roar, 
 Thitherward shaped his way, and came at length 
 
 to the shore. 
 Sound-limbed he was: dry-eyed; but smarted in 
 
 every part ; 
 And the mighty cage of his ribs heaved on his 
 
 straining heart 
 With sorrow and rage. And "Fools!" he cried, 
 
 "fools of Vaiau, 
 Heads of swine gluttons Alas ! and where are 
 
 they now? 
 Those that I played with, those that nursed me, 
 
 those that I nursed? 
 God, and I outliving them! I, the least and the 
 
 worst 
 I, that though myself crafty, snared by this herd 
 
 of swine, 470 
 
 In th'e tortures of hell and desoiate, stripped of 
 
 all that was mine : 
 All ! my friends and my fathers the silver 
 
 heads of yore 
 That trooped to the council, the children that ran 
 
 to the open door
 
 A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 291 
 
 Crying with innocent voices and clasping a 
 
 father's knees ! 
 And mine, my wife my daughter my sturdy 
 
 climber of trees, 
 Ah, never to climb again!" 
 
 Thus in the dusk of the night, 
 (For clouds rolled in the sky and the moon 
 
 was swallowed from sight,) 
 Pacing and gnawing his fists, Rahero raged by 
 
 the shore. 
 Vengeance: that must be his. But much was 
 
 to do before ; 480 
 
 And first a single life to be snatched from a 
 
 deadly place, 
 A life, the root of revenge, surviving plant of 
 
 the race: 
 And next the race to be raised anew, and the 
 
 lands of the clan 
 
 Repeopled. So Rahero designed, a prudent man 
 Even in wrath, and turned for the means of 
 
 revenge and escape : 
 A boat to be seized by stealth, a wife to be 
 
 taken by rape.
 
 292 THE SONG OF RAHERO: 
 
 Still was the dark lagoon; beyond on the coral 
 
 wall, 
 He saw the breakers shine, he heard them 
 
 bellow and fall. 
 Alone, on the top of the reef, a man with a 
 
 flaming brand 
 Walked, gazing and pausing, a fish-spear 
 
 poised in his hand. 490 
 
 The foam boiled to his calf when the mightier 
 
 breakers came, 
 And the torch shed in the wind scattering tufts 
 
 of flame. 
 Afar on the dark lagoon a canoe lay idly at 
 
 wait: 
 
 A figure dimly guiding it: surely the fisher- 
 man's mate. 
 Rahero saw and he smiled. He straightened 
 
 his mighty thews : 
 Naked, with never a weapon, and covered 
 
 with scorch and bruise, 
 He straightened his arms, he rilled the void of 
 
 his body with breath, 
 And, strong as the wind in his manhood, 
 
 doomed the fisher to death.
 
 A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 293 
 
 Silent he entered the water, and silently swam, 
 
 and came 
 There where the fisher walked, holding on high 
 
 the flame. 500 
 
 Loud on the pier of the reef volleyed the 
 
 breach of the sea ; 
 And hard at the back of the man Rahero 
 
 crept to his knee 
 On the coral, and suddenly sprang and seized 
 
 him, the elder hand 
 Clutching the joint of his throat, the other 
 
 snatching the brand 
 Ere it had time to fall, and holding it steady and 
 
 high. 
 Strong was the fisher, brave, and swift of mind 
 
 and of eye 
 Strongly he threw in the clutch; but Rahero 
 
 resisted the strain, 
 And jerked, and the spine of life snapped with 
 
 a crack in twain, 
 And the man came slack in his hands and 
 
 tumbled a lump at his feet.
 
 294 THE SONG OF RAHERO: 
 
 One moment: and there, on the reef, where the 
 
 breakers whitened and beat* 510 
 
 Rahero was standing alone, glowing and 
 
 scorched and bare, 
 A victor unknown of any, raising the torch in 
 
 the air. 
 But once he drank of his breath, and instantly 
 
 set him to fish 
 Like a man intent upon supper at home and 
 
 a savoury dish. 
 For what should the woman have seen? A man 
 
 with a torch and then 
 A moment's blur of the eyes : and a man with a 
 
 torch again. 
 And the torch had scarcely been shaken. "Ah, 
 
 surely," Rahero said, 
 "She will deem it a trick of the eyes, a fancy 
 
 born in the head; 
 But time must be given the fool to nourish a 
 
 fool's belief." 
 So for a while, a sedulous fisher, he walked the 
 
 reef, s^o 
 
 Pausing at times and gazing, striking at times 
 
 with the spear;
 
 A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 295 
 
 Lastly, uttered the call ; and even as the boat 
 
 drew near, 
 Like a man that was done with its use, tossed 
 
 the torch in the sea. 
 
 Lightly he leaped on the boat beside the woman ; 
 
 and she 
 Lightly addressed him, and yielded the paddle 
 
 and place to sit ; 
 For now the torch was extinguished the night 
 
 was black as the pit. 
 
 Rahero set him to row, never a word he spoke, 
 And the boat sang in the water, urged by his 
 
 vigorous stroke. 
 "What ails you ?" the woman asked, "and why 
 
 did you drop the brand ? 
 We have only to kindle another as soon as we 
 
 come to land/' 530 
 
 Never a word Rahero replied, but urged the 
 
 canoe. 
 And a chill fell on the woman. "Atta! speak! 
 
 is it you ? 
 Speak! Why are you silent? Why do you 
 
 bend aside?
 
 296 THE SONG OF R A HERO: 
 
 Wherefore steer to the seaward ?" thus she panted 
 
 and cried. 
 Never a word from the oarsman foiling there in 
 
 the dark; 
 But right for a gate of the reef he silently headed 
 
 the bark, 
 And wielding the single paddle with passionate 
 
 sweep on sweep, 
 Drove her, the little fitted, forth on the open 
 
 deep. 
 
 And fear, there where she sat, froze the woman 
 
 to stone : 
 Not fear of the crazy boat and the weltering 
 
 deep alone; 540 
 
 But a keener fear of the night, the dark, and 
 
 the ghostly hour. 
 And the thing that drove the canoe with more 
 
 than a mortal's power 
 And more than a mortal's boldness. For much 
 
 she knew of the dead 
 That haunt and fish upon reefs, toiling, like 
 
 men, for bread,
 
 A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 297 
 
 And traffic with human fishes, or slay them and 
 
 take their ware, 
 Till the hour when the star of the dead 15 goes 
 
 down, and the morning air 
 Blows, and the cocks are singing on shore. 
 
 And surely she knew 
 The speechless thing at her side belonged to the 
 
 grave. 18 
 
 It blew 
 
 All night from the south ; all night, Rahero con- 
 tended and kept 
 
 The prow to the cresting sea; and', silent as 
 though she slept, sso 
 
 The woman huddled and quaked. And now 
 was the peep of day. 
 
 High and long on their left the mountainous 
 island lay ; 
 
 And over the peaks of Taiarapu arrows of sun- 
 light struck. 
 
 On shore the birds were beginning to sing: the 
 ghostly ruck 
 
 Of the buried had long ago returned to the cov- 
 ered grave;
 
 298 THE SONG OF RAHERO: 
 
 And here on the sea, the woman, waxing sud- 
 denly brave, 
 
 Turned her swiftly about and looked in the face 
 of the man. 
 
 And sure he was none that she know, none of 
 her country or clan : 
 
 A stranger, mother-naked, and marred with the 
 marks of fire, 
 
 But comely and great of stature, a man to obey 
 and admire. s6o 
 
 And Rahero regarded her also, fixed, with a 
 
 frowning face, 
 
 Judging the woman's fitness to mother a war- 
 like race. 
 Broad of shoulder, ample of girdle, long in the 
 
 thigh, 
 Deep of bosom she was, and bravely supported 
 
 his eye. 
 "Woman," said he, "last night the men of your 
 
 folk- 
 Man, woman, and maid, smothered my race in 
 smoke.
 
 A LEGEND OF TAHITI. 299 
 
 It was done like cowards; and I, a mighty man 
 of my hands, 
 
 Escaped, a single life ; and now to the empty 
 
 And smokeless hearths of my people, sail, with 
 yourself, alone. 
 
 Before your mother was born, the die of today 
 was thrown s;o 
 
 And you selected: your husband, vainly striv- 
 ing, to fall 
 
 Broken between these hands : yourself to be 
 severed from all, 
 
 The places, the people, you love home, kin- 
 dred, and clan 
 
 And to dwell in a desert and bear the babes of a 
 kinless man."
 
 NOTES TO THE SONG OF RAHfiRO. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. This tale, of which I have not con- 
 sciously changed a single feature, I received from tradi- 
 tion. It is highly popular through all the country of the 
 eight Tevas, the clan to which Rahero belonged; and 
 particularly in Taiarapu, the windward peninsula of 
 Tahiti, where he lived. I have heard from end to end 
 two versions ; and as many as five different persons 
 have helped me with details. There seems no reason 
 why the tale should not be true. 
 
 Note I, verse 22. "The aito," quasi champion, or 
 brave. One skilled in the use of some weapon, who 
 wandered the country challenging distinguished rivals 
 and taking part in local quarrels. It was in the natural 
 course of his advancement to be at last employed by a 
 chief, or king; and it would then be a part of his duties 
 to purvey the victim for sacrifice. One of the doomed 
 families was indicated ; the aito took his weapon and 
 went forth alone ; a little behind him bearers followed 
 with the sacrificial basket. Sometimes the victim showed 
 fight, sometimes prevailed ; more often, without doubt, 
 he fell. But whatever body was found, the bearers in- 
 differently took up. 
 
 Note 2, verses 45 et seq. "Pai," "Honoura," and 
 "Aliupu." Legendary persons of Tahiti, all natives of 
 Taiarapu. Of the two first, I have collected singular 
 although imperfect legends, which I hope soon to lay 
 before the public in another place. Of Ahupu, except in 
 
 300
 
 NOTES TO THE SONG OF RAHERO. 301 
 
 snatches of song, little memory appears to linger. She 
 dwelt at least about Tepari, "the sea-cliffs," the east- 
 ern fastness of the isle ; walked by paths known only to 
 herself upon the mountains ; was courted by dangerous 
 suitors who came swimming from adjacent islands, and 
 defended and rescued (as I gather) by the loyalty of 
 native fish. My anxiety to learn more of "Ahupu 
 Vehine" became (during my stay in Taiarapu) a cause 
 of some diversion to that mirthful people, the inhabi- 
 tants.i 
 
 Note 3, verse 80. "Covered an oven." The cooking 
 fire is made in a hole in the ground, and is then buried. 
 
 Note 4, verse 85. "Flies." This is perhaps an an- 
 achronism. Even speaking of to-day in Tahiti, the 
 phrase would have to be understood as referring mainly 
 to mosquitoes, and these only in watered valleys with 
 close woods, such as I suppose to form the surroundings 
 of Rahero's homestead. Quarter of a mile away, where 
 the air moves freely, you shall look in vain for one. 
 
 Note 5, verse 115. "Hook" of mother-of-pearl. Bright- 
 hook fishing, and that with the spear, appear to be the 
 favourite native methods. 
 
 Note 6, verse 133. "Leaves," the plates of Tahiti. 
 
 Note 7, verse 144. "Yottowas," so spelt for convenience 
 of pronunciation, quasi Tacksmen in the Scottish High- 
 lands. The organization of eight sub-districts and eight 
 yottowas to a division, which was in use (until yester- 
 day) among the Tevas, I have attributed without au- 
 thority to the next clan : see verses 341-2. 
 
 Note 8, verse 160. "Omare," pronounce as a dactyl. 
 A loaded quarter-staff, one of the two favourite weapons
 
 302 NOTES TO THE SONG OF RAIIERO. 
 
 of the Tahitian brave; the javelin, or casting spear, was 
 the other. 
 
 Note 9, verse 202. "The ribbon of light." Still to be 
 seen (and heard) spinning from one marae to another 
 on Tahiti ; or so I have it upon evidence that would re- 
 joice the Psychical Society. 
 
 Note 10, verse 221. "Namunu-ura." The complete 
 name is Namunu-ura te aropa. Why it should be pro- 
 nounced Narnunu, dactyllically, I cannot see, but so I 
 have always heard it. This was the clan immediately be- 
 yond the Tevas on the south coast of the island. At the 
 date of the tale the clan organization must have been 
 very weak. There is no particular mention of Tamatea's 
 mother going to Papara, to the head chief of her own 
 clan, which would appear her natural recourse. On the 
 other hand, she seems to have visited various lesser 
 chiefs ,among the Tevas, and these to have excused 
 themselves solely on the danger of the enterprise. The 
 broad distinction here drawn between Nateva and 
 Namunu-iira is therefore not impossibly anachronistic. 
 
 Note II, verse 223. "Pliopa the king." Hiopa was 
 really the name of the king (chief) of Vaiau ; but I 
 could never learn that of the king of Paea pronounce 
 to rhyme with the Indian ayah and I gave the name 
 where it was most needed. This note much appear otiose 
 indeed to readers who have never heard of either of 
 these two gentlemen ; and perhaps there is only one per- 
 son in the world capable at once of reading my verses 
 and spying the inaccuracy. For him, for Mr. Tati Sal- 
 mon, hereditary high chief of the Tevas, the note is 
 solely written : a small attention from a clansman to 
 his chief.
 
 NOTES TO THE SOXG OP RAIIERO. 303 
 
 Note 12, verse 239. "Let the pigs be tapu." It is 
 impossible to explain tapu in a note ; we have it as an 
 English word, taboo. Suffice it, that a thing which was 
 tapu must not be touched, nor a place that was tapu 
 visited. 
 
 Note 13, verse 354. "Fish, the food of desire." There 
 is a special word in the Tahitian language to signify 
 hungering after fish. I may remark that here is one of 
 my chief difficulties about the whole story. How did 
 king, commons, women, and all come to eat together at 
 this feast? But it troubled none of my numerous au- 
 thorities ; so there must certainly be some natural ex- 
 planation. 
 
 Note 14, verse 429. "The mustering word of the clan." 
 
 Tcva te ua, 
 Teva te matai! 
 Teva the wind, 
 Teva the rain ! 
 
 Note 15, verse 546. Note 16, verse 548. "The star of 
 the dead." Venus as a morning star. I have collected 
 much curious evidence as to this belief. The dead retain 
 their taste for a fish diet, enter into copartnery with 
 living fishers, and haunt the reef and the lagoon. The 
 conclusion attributed to the nameless lady of the legend 
 would be reached to-day, under the like circumstances, 
 by ninety per cent of Polynesians ; and here I probably 
 understate by one-tenth.
 
 THE FEAST OF FAMINE.
 
 THE FEAST OF FAMINE: MARQUESAN 
 MANNERS. 
 
 i. THE PRIEST'S VIGIL. 
 
 IN all the land of the tribe was neither fish nor 
 
 fruit, 
 And the deepest pit of popoi stood empty to 
 
 the foot. 1 
 The clans upon the left and the clans upon the 
 
 right 
 Now oiled their carven maces and scoured their 
 
 daggers bright; 
 They gat them to the thicket, to the deepest of 
 
 the shade, 
 
 And lay with sleepless eyes in the deadly am- 
 buscade. 
 And oft in the starry even the song of morning 
 
 rose, 
 What time the oven smoked in the country of 
 
 their foes;
 
 3 o8 THE FEAST OF FAMINE: 
 
 For oft to loving hearts, and waiting ears and 
 
 sight, 
 
 The lads that went to forage returned not with 
 the night. 10 
 
 Now first the children sickened, and then the 
 
 women paled 
 And the great arms of the warrior no more for 
 
 war availed. 
 Hushed was the deep drum, discarded was the 
 
 dance ; 
 And those that met the priest now glanced at 
 
 him askance. 
 The priest was a man of years, his eyes were 
 
 ruby-red, 2 
 He neither feared the dark nor the terrors of 
 
 the dead, 
 
 He knew the songs of races, the names of an- 
 cient date; 
 And the beard upon his bosom would have bought 
 
 the chief's estate. 
 He dwelt in a high-built lodge, hard by the 
 
 roaring shore, 
 Raised on a noble terrace and with tikis 8 at the 
 
 door. 20
 
 MARQUES AN MANNERS. 309 
 
 Within it was full of riches, for he served his 
 nation well, 
 
 And full of the sound of breakers, like the hol- 
 low of a shell. 
 
 For weeks he let them perish, gave never a 
 helping sign, 
 
 But sat on his oiled platform to commune with 
 the divine, 
 
 But sat on his high terrace, with the tikis by 
 his side, 
 
 And stared on the blue ocean, like a parrot, 
 ruby-eyed. 
 
 Dawn as yellow as sulphur leaped on the mount- 
 ain height : 
 
 Ont on the round of the sea the gems of the 
 morning light, 
 
 Up from the round of the sea the streamers of 
 the sun; 
 
 But down in the depths of the valley the day 
 was not begun. 30 
 
 In the blue of the woody twilight burned red 
 the cocoa-husk,
 
 3io THE FEAST OF FAMINE: 
 
 And the women and men of the clan went forth 
 
 to bathe in the dusk. 
 A word that began to go round, a word, a 
 
 whisper, a start: 
 Hope that leaped in the bosom, fear that knocked 
 
 on the heart: 
 "See, the priest is not risen look, for his door 
 
 is fastf 
 He is going to name the victims ; he is going to 
 
 help us at last." 
 
 Thrice rose the sun to noon; and ever, like one 
 of the dead, 
 
 The priest lay still in his house with the roar of 
 the sea in his head ; 
 
 There was never a foot on the floor, there was 
 never a whisper of speech ; 
 
 Only the leering tikis stared on the blinding 
 beach. 40 
 
 Again were the mountains fired, again the morn- 
 ing broke; 
 
 And all the houses lay still, but the house of the 
 priest awoke.
 
 MARQUESAN MANNERS. 311 
 
 Close in their covering roofs lay and trembled 
 
 the clan, 
 But the aged, red-eyed priest ran forth like a 
 
 lunatic man ; 
 And the village panted to see him in the jewels 
 
 of death again, 
 In the silver beards of the old and the hair of 
 
 women slain. 
 Frenzy shook in his limbs, frenzy shone in his 
 
 eyes, 
 And still and again as he ran, the valley rang 
 
 with his cries. 
 All day long in the land, by cliff and thicket 
 
 and den, 
 He ran his lunatic rounds, and howled for the 
 
 flesh of men ; so 
 
 All day long he ate not, nor ever drank of the 
 
 brook; 
 And all day long in their houses the people 
 
 listened and shook 
 All day long in their houses they listened with 
 
 bated breath, 
 And never a soul went forth, for the sight of the 
 
 priest was death.
 
 3 i2 THE FEAST OF FAMINE: 
 
 Three were the days of his running, as the gods 
 
 appointed of yore, 
 Two the nights of his sleeping alone in the place 
 
 of gore: 
 The drunken slumber of frenzy twice he drank 
 
 to the lees, 
 On the sacred stones of the High-place, under 
 
 the sacred trees; 
 With a lamp at his ashen head he lay in the 
 
 place of the feast. 
 And the sacred leaves of the banyan rustled 
 
 around the priest. 6o 
 
 Last, when the stated even fell upon terrace and 
 
 tree. 
 And the shade of the lofty island lay leagues 
 
 away to sea, 
 And all the valleys of verdure were heavy with 
 
 manna and musk, 
 The wreck of the red-eyed priest came gasping 
 
 home in the dusk. 
 He reeled across the village, he staggered along 
 
 the shore. 
 And between the leering tikis crept groping 
 
 through his door.
 
 MARQUESAS MA.\ Y .\ r ER$. 313 
 
 There went a stir through the lodges, the voice 
 of speech awoke ; 
 
 Once more from the builded platforms arose the 
 evening smoke. 
 
 And those who were mighty in war, and those 
 renowned for an art 
 
 Sat in their stated seats and talked of the mor- 
 row apart. 7 
 
 II. THE LOVERS. 
 
 Hark! away in the woods for the ears of love 
 are sharp 
 
 Stealthily, quietly touched, the note of the one- 
 stringed harp. 4 
 
 In the lighted house of her father, why should 
 Taheia start? 
 
 Taheia heavy of hair, Taheia tender of heart, 
 
 Taheia the well-descended, a bountiful dealer in 
 love, 
 
 Nimble of foot like the deer, and kind of eye 
 like the dove?
 
 314 THE FEAST OF FAMINE: 
 
 Sly and shy as a cat, with never a change of 
 face, 
 
 Taheia slips to the door, like on that would 
 breathe a space ; 
 
 Saunters and pauses, and looks at the stars, and 
 lists to the seas ; 
 
 Then sudden and swift as a cat, she plunges 
 under the trees. 8o 
 
 Swift as a cat she runs, with her garment gath- 
 ered high, 
 
 Leaping, nimble of foot, running, certain of eye; 
 
 And ever to guide her way over the smooth and 
 the sharp, 
 
 Ever nearer and nearer the note of the one- 
 stringed harp ; 
 
 Till at length, in a glade of the wood, with a 
 naked mountain above, 
 
 The sound of the harp thrown down, and she in 
 the arms of her love. 
 
 "Rua!" "Taheia!" they cry ''my heart, my 
 soul, and my eyes," 
 
 And clasp and sunder and kiss, with lovely laugh- 
 te-r and sighs,
 
 MARQUESAS MANNERS. 315 
 
 "Rua!" "Taheia, my love," "Rua, star of my 
 
 night, 
 Clasp me, hold me, and love me, single spring of 
 
 delight." 90 
 
 And Rua folded her close, he folded her near 
 
 and long, 
 The living knit to the living, and sang the lover's 
 
 song: 
 
 Night, night it is, night upon the palms. 
 Night, night it is, the land wind has blown. 
 Starry, starry night, over deep and height; 
 Love, love in the valley, love all alone. 
 
 "Taheia, heavy of hair, a foolish thing have we 
 
 done, 
 To bind what gods have sundered unkindly into 
 
 one. 
 Why should a lowly lover have touched Taheia's 
 
 skirt, 
 Taheia the well-descended, and Rua child of the 
 
 dirt?" I0
 
 316 THE FEAST OH FAMINE: 
 
 "On high with the haka-ikis my father sits in 
 
 state. 
 
 Ten times fifty kinsmen salute him in the gate ; 
 Round all his martial body, and in bands across 
 
 his face, 
 The marks of the tattooer proclaim his lofty 
 
 place. 
 I, too, in the hands of the cunning, in the sacred 
 
 cabin of palm/' 
 Have shrunk like the mimosa, and bleated like 
 
 the lamb ; 
 Round half my tender body, that none shall clasp 
 
 but you, 
 For a crest and a fair adornment go dainty lines 
 
 of blue. 
 
 Love, love, beloved Rua, love levels all degrees. 
 And the well-tattooed .Taheia clings panting to 
 
 your knees." II0 
 
 "Taheia, song of the morning, how long is the 
 
 longest love? 
 
 A cry, a clasp of the hands, a star that falls from 
 above !
 
 MARQUESAN MANNERS. 317 
 
 Ever at morn in the blue, and at night when all 
 
 is black, 
 Ever it skulks and trembles with the hunter, 
 
 Death, on its track. 
 Hear me, Taheia, death ! For to-morrow the 
 
 priest shall awake, 
 And the names be named of the victims to bleed 
 
 for the nation's sake ; 
 And first of the numbered many that shall be 
 
 slain ere noon, 
 
 Rua the child of the dirt, Rua the kinless loon. 
 For him shall the drum be beat, for him be 
 
 raised the song, 
 For him to the sacred; High-place the chaunting 
 
 people throng, I2 
 
 For him the oven smoke as for a speechless 
 
 beast, 
 And the sire of my Taheia come greedy to the 
 
 feast." 
 "Rua be silent, spare me. Taheia closes her 
 
 ears. 
 
 Pity my yearning heart, pity my girlish years ! 
 Flee from the cruel hands, flee from the knife 
 
 and coal,
 
 318 THE FEAST OF FAMINE: 
 
 Lie hid in the deeps of the woods, Rua, sire of 
 my soul !" 
 
 "Whither to flee, Taheia, whither in all of the 
 land ? 
 
 The fires of the bloody kitchen are kindled on 
 every hand ; 
 
 On every hand in the isle a hungry whetting of 
 teeth, 
 
 Eyes 'in the trees above, arms in the brush be- 
 neath. J 30 
 
 Patience to lie in wait, cunning to follow the 
 sleuth, 
 
 Abroad the foes I have fought, and at home the 
 friends of my youth." 
 
 "Love, love, beloved Rua, love has a clearer eye, 
 Hence from the arms of love you go not forth to 
 
 die. 
 There, where the broken mountain drops sheer 
 
 into the glen, 
 There shall you find a hold from the boldest 
 
 hunter of men ;
 
 MARQUES AN MANXERS. 319 
 
 There, in the deep recess, where the sun falls 
 
 only at noon, 
 And only once in the night enters the light of 
 
 the moon, 
 Nor ever a sound but of birds, or the rain when 
 
 it falls with a shout ; 
 For death and the fear of death beleaguer the 
 
 valley about. J 4o 
 
 Tapu it is, but the gods will surely pardon de- 
 spair ; 
 
 Tapu, but what of that? If Rua can only dare. 
 Tapu and tapu and tapu, I know they are every 
 
 one right ; 
 But the god of every tapu is not always quick 
 
 to smite. 
 Lie secret there, my Rua, in the arms of awful 
 
 gods, 
 Sleep in the shade of the trees on the couch of 
 
 the kindly sods, 
 Sleep and dream of Taheia, Taheia will wake 
 
 for you ; 
 And whenever the land wind blows and the 
 
 woods are heavy with dew,
 
 320 THE FEAST OF FAMINE: 
 
 Alone through the horror of night, 6 with food 
 
 for the soul of her love, 
 Taheia the undissuaded will hurry true as the 
 
 dove." '5 
 
 "Taheia, the pit of the night crawls with treach- 
 erous things, 
 
 Spirits of ultimate air and the evil souls of 
 things ; 
 
 The souls of the dead, the stranglers, that perch 
 in the trees of the wood, 
 
 Waiters for all things human, haters of evil and 
 good." 
 
 "Rua, behold me, kiss me, look in my eyes and 
 
 read; 
 Are these the eyes of a maid that would leave her 
 
 lover in need ? 
 Brave in the eye of day, my father ruled in the 
 
 fight; 
 The child of his loins, Taheia, will play the man 
 
 in the night."
 
 MARQUESAN .\L IX. \~ERS. .UM 
 
 So it was spoken, and so agreed, and Taheia 
 
 arose 
 And smiled in the stars and was gone, swift as 
 
 the swallow goes ; l6 
 
 And Rua stood on the hill, and sighed, and fol- 
 lowed her flight, 
 And there were the lodges below, each with its 
 
 door alight ; 
 From folk that sat on the terrace and drew out 
 
 the even long 
 Sudden Growings of laughter, monotonous drone 
 
 of song ; 
 The quiet passage of souls over his head in the 
 
 trees ; T 
 And from all around the haven the crumbling 
 
 thunder of seas. 
 "Farewell, my home," said Rua. "Farewell, O 
 
 quiet seat ! 
 To-morrow in all your valleys the drum of death 
 
 shall beat."
 
 322 THE FEAST Ol : FAMINE: 
 
 III. THE FEAST. 
 
 Dawn as yellow as sulphur leaped on the naked 
 
 peak, 
 And all the village was stirring, for now was the 
 
 priest to speak. 170 
 
 Forth on his terrace he came, and sat with the 
 
 chief in talk ; 
 His lips were blackened with fever, his cheeks 
 
 were whiter than chalk ; 
 Fever clutched at his hands, fever nodded his 
 
 head, 
 But, quiet and steady and cruel, his eyes shone 
 
 ruby-red. 
 In the earliest rays of the sun the chief rose up 
 
 content ; 
 
 Braves were summoned, and drummers ; mes- 
 sengers came and went ; 
 Braves ran to their lodges, weapons were snatched 
 
 from the wall ; 
 The commons herded together, and fear was over 
 
 them all.
 
 MARQUES AN MANNERS. 323 
 
 Festival dresses they wore, but the tongue was 
 
 dry in their mouth, 
 And the blinking eyes in their faces skirted from 
 
 north to south. 18 
 
 Now to the sacred enclosure gathered the great- 
 est and least, 
 
 And from under the shade of the Banyan arose 
 the voice of the feast, 
 
 The frenzied roll of the drum, and a swift, mo- 
 notonous song. 
 
 Higher the sun swam up; the trade wind level 
 and strong 
 
 Awoke in the tops of the palms and rattled the 
 fans aloud, 
 
 And over the garlanded heads and shining robes 
 of the crowd 
 
 Tossed the spiders of shadow, scattered the jewels 
 of sun. 
 
 Forty the tale of the drums, and the forty 
 throbbed like one ; 
 
 A thousand hearts in the crowd, and the even 
 chorus of song,
 
 324 THE FEAST OF FAMINE: 
 
 Swift as the feet of a runner, trampled a thou- 
 sand strong. 190 
 
 And the old men leered at the ovens and licked 
 their lips for the food ; 
 
 And the women stared at the lads, and laughed 
 and looked to the wood. 
 
 As when the sweltering baker, at night, when 
 the city is dead, 
 
 Alone in the trough of labor treads and fashions 
 the bread ; 
 
 So in the heat, and the reek, and the touch of 
 woman and man, 
 
 The naked spirit of evil kneaded the hearts of 
 the clan. 
 
 Now cold was at many a heart, and shaking in 
 many a seat ; 
 
 For there were the empty baskets, but who was 
 to furnish the meat? 
 
 For here was the nation assembled, and there 
 were the ovens anigh, 
 
 And out of a thousand singers nine were num- 
 bered to die, 200
 
 MARQUES AN MANNERS. 325 
 
 Till, of a sudden, a shock, a mace in the air, a yell, 
 
 And, struck in the edge of the crowd, the first 
 of the victims fell. s 
 
 Terror and horrible glee divided the shrinking 
 clan, 
 
 Terror of what was to follow, glee for a diet of 
 man. 
 
 Frenzy hurried the chaunt, frenzy rattled the 
 drums ; 
 
 The nobles, high on the terrace, greedily mouthed 
 their thumbs ; 
 
 And once and again and again, in the ignorant 
 crowd below, 
 
 Once and again and again descended the mur- 
 derous blow. 
 
 Now smoked the oven, and now, with the cutting 
 lip of a shell, 
 
 A butcher of ninety winters joined the bodies 
 well. 2l 
 
 Unto the carven lodge, silent, in order due, 
 
 The grandees of the nation one after one with- 
 drew ; 
 
 And a line of laden bearers brought to the ter- 
 race foot,
 
 326 THE FEAST OF FAMINE: 
 
 On poles across their shoulders, the last reserve 
 of fruit. 
 
 The victims bled for the nobles in the old ap- 
 pointed way ; 
 
 The fruit was spread for the commons, for all 
 should eat to-day. 
 
 And now was the kava brewed, and now the 
 cocoa ran, 
 
 Now was the hour of the dance for child and 
 woman and man; 
 
 And mirth was in every heart, and a garland on 
 every head, 
 
 And all was well with the living and well with 
 the eight who were dead. 22 
 
 Only the chiefs and the priest talked and con- 
 sulted awhile : 
 
 "To-morrow/' they said, and "To-morrow," and 
 nodded and seemed to smile : 
 
 "Rua the child of dirt, the creature of common 
 clay, 
 
 Rua must die to-morrow, since Rua is gone to- 
 day."
 
 MARQUES AN MANNERS. 327 
 
 Out of the groves of the valley, where clear the 
 
 blackbirds sang, 
 Sheer from the trees of the valley the face of the 
 
 mountain sprang ; 
 
 Sheer anclt bare it rose, unscalable barricade, 
 Beaten and blown against by the generous 
 
 draught of the trade. 
 
 Dawn on its fluted brow painted rainbow light, 
 Close on its pinnacled crown trembled the stars 
 
 at night. 2 3 
 
 Here and there in a cleft clustered contorted 
 
 trees, 
 Or the silver beard of a stream hung and swung 
 
 in the breeze. 
 High overhead, with a cry, the torrents leaped. 
 
 for the main, 
 And silently sprinkled below in thin perennial 
 
 rain. 
 
 Dark in the staring noon, dark was Rua's ravine, 
 Damp and cold was the air, and the face of the 
 
 cliffs was green. 
 Here, in the rocky pit, accursed already of old,
 
 328 THE FEAST OF FAMINE: 
 
 On a stone in the midst of a river, Rua sat and 
 was cold. 
 
 "Valley of mid-day shadows; valley of silent 
 
 falls," 
 Rua sang, and his voice went hollow about the 
 
 walls, *4<> 
 
 "Valley of shadow and rock, a doleful prison 
 
 to me, 
 What is the life you can give to a child of the 
 
 sun and the sea?" 
 
 And Rua arose and came to the open mouth of 
 the glen, 
 
 Whence he beheld the woods, and the sea, and 
 houses of men. 
 
 Wide blew the riotous trade, and smelt in his 
 nostrils good; 
 
 It bowed the boats on the bay, and tore and 
 divided the wood; 
 
 It smote and sundered the groves as Moses smote 
 with the rod, 
 
 And the streamers of all the trees blew like ban- 
 ners abroad;
 
 MARQUES AX MAXXERS. 329 
 
 And ever and on, in a lull, the trade wind brought 
 
 him along 
 A far-off patter of drums and a far-off whisper 
 
 of song. 250 
 
 Swift as the swallow's wings, the diligent hands 
 
 on the drum 
 Fluttered and hurried ami throbbed. "Ah, woe 
 
 that I hear you come," 
 
 Rua cried in his grief, "a sorrowful sound to me, 
 Mounting far and faint from the resonant shore 
 
 of the sea ! 
 Woe in the song! for the grave breathes in the 
 
 singers' breath, 
 And I hear in the tramp of the drums the .beat 
 
 of the heart of death. 
 Home of my youth! no more, through all the 
 
 length of the years, 
 No more to the place of the echoes of early 
 
 laughter and tears, 
 
 No more shall Rua return ; no more as the even- 
 ing ends, 
 To crowded eyes of welcome, to the reaching 
 
 hands of friends." 26
 
 330 THE FEAST OP FAMINE: 
 
 All day long from the High-place the drums and 
 the singing came, 
 
 And the even fell, and the sun went down, a 
 wheel of flame ; 
 
 And night came gleaning the shadows and hush- 
 ing the sounds of the wood ; 
 
 And silence slept on all, where Rua sorrowed 
 and stood. 
 
 But still from the shore of the bay the sound of 
 the festival rang, 
 
 And still the crowd in the High-place danced 
 and shouted and sang. 
 
 Now over all the isle terror was breathed abroad 
 Of shadowy hands from the trees and shadowy 
 
 snares in the sod ; 
 And before the nostrils of night, the shuddering 
 
 hunter of men 
 Hurried, with beard on shoulder, back to his 
 
 lighted den. 2 7 
 
 "Taheia, here to my side !" "Rua, my Rua, 
 
 you !" 
 And cold from the clutch of terror, cold with 
 
 the damp of the dew,
 
 MARQUES AX MANNERS. 331 
 
 Taheia, heavy of hair, leaped through the dark 
 
 to his arms ; 
 Taheia leaped to his clasp, and was folded in 
 
 from alarms. 
 
 "Rua, beloved, here, see what your love has 
 
 brought ; 
 Coming alas ! returning swift as the shuttle 
 
 of thought ; 
 Returning, alas ! for to-night, with the beaten 
 
 drum and the voice, 
 In the shine of many torches must the sleepless 
 
 clan rejoice; 
 And Taheia the well-descended, the daughter of 
 
 chief and priest, 
 Taheia must sit in her place in the crowded 
 
 bench of the feast." 280 
 
 So it was spoken ; and she, girding her garment 
 
 high, 
 Fled and was swallowed of woods, swift as the 
 
 sight of an eye. 
 
 Night over isle and sea rolled her curtain of 
 stars.
 
 332 THE FEAST OF FAMIXE: 
 
 Then a trouble awoke in the air, the east was 
 banded with bars ; 
 
 Dawn as yellow as sulphur leaped on the mount- 
 ain height ; 
 
 Dawn, in the deepest glen, fell a wonder of light ; 
 
 High and clear stood the palms in the eye of the 
 brightening east, 
 
 And lo! from the sides of the sea the broken 
 sound of the feast ! 
 
 As, when in days of summer, through open win- 
 dows, the fly 
 
 Swift as a breeze and loud as a trump goes by, 
 
 But when frosts in the field have pinched the 
 wintering mouse. 
 
 Blindly noses and buzzes and hums in the fire- 
 lit house: 
 
 So the sound of the feast gallantly trampled at 
 night, 
 
 So it staggered and drooped, and droned in the 
 morning light.
 
 MARQUES AN MANNERS. 333 
 
 IV. THE RAID. 
 
 It chanced that as Rtia sat in the valley of silent 
 falls, 
 
 He heard a calling of doves from high on the 
 cliffy walls. 
 
 Fire had fashioned of yore, and time had broken, 
 the rocks; 
 
 There were rooting crannies for trees and nest- 
 ing-places for flocks; ' 
 
 And he saw on the top of the cliffs, looking up 
 from the pit of the shade, 
 
 A flicker^of wings and sunshine, and trees that 
 swung in the trade. 300 
 
 "The trees swing in the trade," quoth Rua, doubt- 
 ful of words, 
 
 "And the sun stares from the sky, but what 
 should trouble the birds?" 
 
 Up from the shade he gazed, where high the 
 
 parapet shone, 
 
 . And he was aware of a ledge and of things that 
 moved thereon.
 
 334 THE FEAST OF FAMINE: 
 
 "What manner of things are these? Are they 
 
 spirits abroad by day? 
 Or the foes of my clan that are come, bringing 
 
 death by a perilous way?" 
 
 The valley was gouged like a vessel, and round 
 
 like the vessel's lip, 
 With a cape of the side of the hill thrust forth 
 
 like the bows of a ship. 
 On the top of the face of the cape a volley of sun 
 
 struck fair, 
 And the cape overhung like a chin a gulph of 
 
 sunless air. 310 
 
 "Silence, heart! What is that? that, that flick- 
 ered and shone, 
 Into the sun for an instant, and in an instant 
 
 gone? 
 Was it a warrior's plume, a warrior's girdle of 
 
 hair? 
 Swung in the loop of a rope, is he making a 
 
 bridge of the air?" 
 
 Once and again Rua saw, in the trenchant edge 
 of the sky,
 
 MARQUES AN MANNERS. 335 
 
 The giddy conjuring done. And then, in the 
 
 blink of an eye, 
 A scream caught in with the breath, a whirling 
 
 packet of limbs, 
 A lump that dived in the gulph, more swift than 
 
 a dolphin swims ; 
 And there was the lump at his feet, and eyes were 
 
 alive in the lump. 
 Sick was the soul of Rua, ambushed close in a 
 
 clump ; 320 
 
 Sick of soul he drew near, making his courage 
 
 stout ; 
 And he looked in the face of the thing, and the 
 
 life of the thing went out. 
 And he gazed on the tattooed limbs, and, behold, 
 
 he knew the man : 
 Hoka, a chief of the Vais, the truculent foe of 
 
 his clan : 
 Hoka a moment since that stepped in the loop 
 
 of the rope, 
 
 Filled with the lust of war, and alive with cour- 
 age and hope. 
 
 Again to the giddy cornice Rua lifted his eyes,
 
 336 THE FEAST OF FAMINE: 
 
 And again beheld men passing in the armpit of 
 
 the skies. 
 "Foes of my race!" cried Rua, "the mouth of 
 
 Rua is true: 
 Never a shark in the deep is nobler of soul 
 
 than you. 330 
 
 There was never a nobler foray, never a bolder 
 
 plan; 
 Never a dizzier path was trod by the children of 
 
 man; 
 And Rua, your evil-dealer through all the days 
 
 of his years, 
 Counts it honour to hate you, honour to fall by 
 
 your spears." 
 
 And Rua straightened his back. '"'O Vais, a 
 scheme for a scheme !" 
 
 Cried Rua and turned and descended the turbu- 
 lent stair of the stream, 
 
 Leaping from rock to rock as the water-wagtail 
 at home 
 
 Flits through resonant valleys and skims by 
 boulder and foam.
 
 MARQUES AN MANNERS. 337 
 
 And Rua burst from the glen and leaped on the 
 shore of the brook. 
 
 And straight for the roofs of the clan his vigor- 
 ous way he took. 34 
 
 Swift were the heeJs of his flight, and loud be- 
 hind as he went 
 
 Rattledi the leaping stones on the line of his long 
 descent. 
 
 And ever he thought as he ran, and caught at his 
 gasping breath, 
 
 "O the fool of a Rua, Rua that runs to his death ! 
 
 But the right is the right," thought Rua, and ran 
 like the wind on the foam, 
 
 "The right is the right for ever, and home for 
 ever home. 
 
 For what though the oven smoke? And what 
 though I die ere morn ? 
 
 There was I nourished and tended, and there was 
 Taheia born." 
 
 Noon was high on the High-place, the second 
 noon of the feast ; 
 
 And heat and shameful slumber weighed on peo- 
 ple and priest; 35
 
 338 THE FEAST OF FAMINE: 
 
 And the heart drudged slow in bodies heavy with 
 
 monstrous meals; 
 And the senseless limbs were scattered abroad 
 
 like spokes of wheels; 
 And crapulous women sat and stared at the 
 
 stones anigh 
 With a bestial droop of the lip and a swinish 
 
 rheum in the eye. 
 As about the dome of the bees in the time for 
 
 the drones to fall, 
 The dead and the maimed are scattered, and lie, 
 
 and stagger, and crawl; 
 So on the grades of the terrace, in the ardent eye 
 
 of the day, 
 The half-awake and the sleepers clustered and 
 
 crawled and lay ; 
 And loud as the dome of the bees, in the time of 
 
 a swarming horde, 
 
 A horror of many insects hung in the air and 
 roared. 360 
 
 Rua looked and wondered ; he said to himself in 
 his heart:
 
 THE FEAST OF FAMINE: 339 
 
 "Poor are the pleasures of life, and death is the 
 
 better part." 
 
 But lo! on the higher benches a cluster of tran- 
 quil folk 
 Sat by themselves, nor raised their serious eyes, 
 
 nor spoke : 
 Women with robes unruffled and garlands duly 
 
 arranged, 
 Gazing far from the feast with faces of people 
 
 estranged ; 
 And quiet amongst the quiet, and fairer than all 
 
 the fair, 
 
 Taheia, the well-descended, Taheia, heavy of hair. 
 And the soul of Rua awoke, courage enlightened 
 
 his eyes, 
 And he uttered a summoning shout and called on 
 
 the clan to rise. 37 
 
 Over against him at once, in the spotted shadte 
 
 of the trees, 
 Owlish and blinking creatures scrambled to 
 
 hands and knees;
 
 340 THE FEAST OF FAMINE: 
 
 On the grades of the sacred terrace, the drivel- 
 ler woke to fear, 
 
 And the hand of the ham-drooped warrior bran- 
 dished a wavering spear. 
 
 And Rua folded his arms, and scorn discovered 
 his teeth ; 
 
 Above the war-crowd gibbered, and Rua stood 
 smiling beneath. 
 
 Thick, like leaves in the autumn, faint, like April 
 
 sleet, 
 Missiles from tremulous hands quivered around 
 
 his feet ; 
 
 And Taheia leaped from her place ; and the priest, 
 the ruby-eyed, 
 
 Ran to the front of the terrace, and brandished 
 his arms, and cried : 380 
 
 "Hold, O fools, he brings tidings !" and "Hold, 
 'tis the love of my heart !" 
 
 Till lo ! in front of the terrace, Rua pierced with 
 a dart. 
 
 Taheia cherished his head, and the aged priest 
 stood by,
 
 MARQUES AN MANNERS. 341 
 
 And gazed with eyes of ruby at Rua's darkening 
 
 eye. 
 
 "Taheia, here is the end, I die a death for a man. 
 I have given the life of my soul to save an un- 
 
 savahle clan. 
 See them, the drooping of hams ! behold me the 
 
 blinking crew : 
 
 Fifty spears they cast, and one of fifty true ! 
 And you, O priest, the foreteller, foretell for 
 
 yourself if you can, 
 Foretell the hour of the day when the Vais shall 
 
 burst on your clan ! 390 
 
 By the head of the tapu cleft, with death and 
 
 fire in their hand, 
 Thick and silent like ants, the warriors swarm in 
 
 the land." 
 
 And they tell that when next the sun had climbed 
 
 to the noonday skies, 
 It shone on the smoke of feasting in the country 
 
 of the Vais.
 
 NOTES TO THE FEAST OF FAMINE. 
 
 In this ballad 1 have strung together some of the more 
 striking particularities of the Marquesas. It rests upon 
 no authority; it is in no sense, like "Rahero," a native 
 story; but a patchwork of details of manners and the 
 impressions of a traveller. It may seem strange, when 
 the scene is laid upon these profligate islands, to make 
 the story hinge on love. But love is not less known in 
 the Marquesas than elsewhere ; nor is there any cause of 
 suicide more common in the islands. 
 
 Note i, verse 2. "Pit of Popoi." Where the bread- 
 fruit was stored for preservation. 
 
 Note 2, verse 15. "Ruby-red." The priests eyes were 
 probably red from the abuse of Rava. His beard (verse 
 18) is said to be worth an estate; for the beards of old 
 men are the favourite head adornments of the Marque- 
 sans, as the hair of women formed their most costly 
 girdle. The former, among this generally beardless and 
 short-lived people, fetch to-day considerable sums. 
 
 Note 3. verse 72. "The one-stringed Jiarp." Usually 
 employed for serenades. 
 
 Note 5, verse 105. "The sacred cabin of palm." 
 Which, however, no woman could approach. I do not 
 know where women were tattooed ; probably in the com- 
 
 342
 
 NOTES TO THE FEAST OF FAMINE. 343 
 
 mon house, or in the bush, for a woman was a creature 
 of small account. I must guard the reader against sup- 
 posing Taheia was at all disfigured ; the art of the Mar- 
 quesan tattooer is extreme ; and she would appear to be 
 clothed in a web of lace, inimitably delicate, exquisite in 
 pattern, and of a bluish hue that at once contrasts and 
 harmonizes with the warm pigment of the native skin. 
 It would be hard to find a woman more becomingly 
 adorned than "a well-tattooed" Marquesan. 
 
 Note 6, verse 149. "The horror of night." The Poly- 
 nesian fear of ghosts and of the dark has been already 
 referred to. Their life is beleaguered by the dead. 
 
 Note 7, verse 165. "The quiet passage of souls." So, 
 I am told, the natives explain the sound of a little wind 
 passing overhead unfelt. 
 
 Note 8, verse 202. "The first of the victims fell." 
 Without doubt, this whole scene is untrue to fact. The 
 victims were disposed of privately and some time be- 
 fore. And indeed I am far from claiming the credit of 
 any high degree of accuracy for this ballad. Even in a 
 time of famine, it is probable that Marquesan life went 
 far more gaily than is here represented. But the melan- 
 choly of to-day lies on the writer's mind.
 
 TICONDEROGA.
 
 TICONDEROGA: A LEGEND OF THE 
 WEST HIGHLANDS. 
 
 This is the tale of the man 
 
 Who heard a word in the night 
 In the land of the heathery hills, 
 
 In the days of the feud and the fight. 
 By the sides of the rainy sea, 
 
 Where never a stranger came, 
 On the awful lips of the dead, 
 
 He heard the outlandish name. 
 It sang in his sleeping ears, 
 
 It hummed in his waking head : > 
 
 The name Ticonderoga, 
 
 The utterance of the dead. 
 
 I. THE SAYING OF THE NAME. 
 
 On the lock-sides of Appin, 
 
 When the mist blew from the sea, 
 
 A Stewart stood with a Cameron : 
 An angry man was he. 
 347
 
 348 TICONDEROGA: 
 
 The blood beat in his ears, 
 
 The blood ran hot to his head, 
 The mist blew from the sea. 
 
 And there was the Cameron dead. 20 
 
 "O, what have I done to my friend, 
 
 O, what have I done to mysel', 
 That he should be cold and dead, 
 
 And I in the danger of all ? 
 Nothing but danger about me, 
 
 Danger behind and before, 
 Death at wait in the heather 
 
 In Appin and Mamore, 
 Hate at all of the ferries 
 
 And death at each of the fords, 3 
 
 Camerons priming gunlocks 
 
 And Camerons sharpening swords." 
 
 But this was a man of counsel. 
 
 This was a man of a score, 
 There dwelt no pawkier Stewart 
 
 In Appin or Mamore. 
 He looked on the blowing mist, 
 
 He looked on the awful dead, 
 And there came a smile on his face 
 
 And there slipped a thought in his head.
 
 THE WEST HIGHLANDS. 349 
 
 Out over cairn and moss, 40 
 
 Out over scrog and scaur, 
 He ran as runs the clansman 
 
 That bears the cross of war. 
 His heart beat in his body, 
 
 His hair clove to his face, 
 When he came at last in the gloaming 
 
 To the dead man's brother's place. 
 The east was white with the moon, 
 
 The west with the sun was red, 
 And there, in the house-doorway, 
 
 Stood the brother of the dead. 
 
 'I have slain a man to my danger, 
 
 I have slain a man to my death. 
 I put my soul in your hands," 
 
 The panting Stewart saith. 
 "I lay it bare in your hands, 
 
 For I know your hands are leal ; 
 And be you my targe and bulwark 
 
 From the bullet and the steel." 6 
 
 Then up and spoke the Cameron, 
 
 And gave him his hand again :
 
 350 TICONDEROGA: 
 
 "There shall never a man in Scotland 
 
 Set faith in me in vain ; 
 And whatever man you have slaughtered, 
 
 Of whatever name or line. 
 By my s\\ T ord and yonder mountain, 
 
 I make your quarrel mine. 1 
 I bid you in to my fireside, 
 
 I share with you house and hall ; 7<> 
 
 It stands upon my honour 
 
 To see you safe from all." 
 
 It fell in the time of midnight, 
 
 When the fox barked in the den, 
 And the plaids were over the faces 
 
 In all the houses of men, 
 That as the living Cameron 
 
 Lay sleepless on his bed, 
 Out of the night and the other world, 
 
 Came in to him the dead. 80 
 
 "My blood is on the heather, 
 
 My bones are on the hill ; 
 There is joy in the home of ravens 
 
 That the young shall eat their fill.
 
 THE WEST HIGHLANDS. 351 
 
 My blood is poured in the dust, 
 
 My soul is spilled in the air ; 
 And the man that has undone me 
 
 Sleeps in my brother's care." 
 
 "I'm wae for your death, my brother, 
 
 But if all of my house were dead, 90 
 
 I couldna withdraw the plighted hand, 
 Xor break the word once said." 
 
 "O, what shall I say to our father, 
 
 In the place to which I fare ? 
 O, what shall I say to our mother, 
 
 Who greets to see me there? 
 And to all the kindly Camerons 
 
 That have lived and died long syne 
 Is this the word you send them, 
 
 Fause-hearted brother mine?" 100 
 
 "It's neither fear nor duty, 
 
 It's neither quick nor dead 
 Shall gar me withdraw the plighted hand, 
 
 Or break the word once said." 
 Thrice in the time of midnight, 
 
 When the fox barked in the den,
 
 352 TICONDEROGA: 
 
 And the plaids were over the faces 
 
 In all the houses of men, 
 Thrice as the living Cameron 
 
 Lay sleepless on his bed, 
 Out of the night and the other world 
 
 Came in to him the dead. 
 And cried to him for vengeance 
 
 On the man that laid him low ; 
 And thrice the living Cameron 
 
 Told the dead Cameron, Xo. 
 
 "Thrice have you seen me, brother, 
 
 But now shall see me no more, 
 Till you meet your angry fathers 
 
 Upon the farther shore. 
 Thrice have I spoken, and now, 
 
 Before the cock be heard, 
 I take my leave forever 
 
 With the naming of a word. 
 It shall sing in your sleeping ears, 
 
 It shall hum in your waking head, 
 The name Ticonderoga, 
 
 And the warning of the dead."
 
 THE WEST HIGHLANDS. 353 
 
 Now when the night was over 
 
 And the time of people's fears, J 3 
 
 The Cameron walked abroad, 
 
 And the word was in his ears. 
 "Many a name I know, 
 
 But never a name like this ; 
 O, where shall I find a skilly man 
 
 Shall tell me what it is?" 
 With many a man he counselled 
 
 Of high and low degree, 
 With the herdsmen on the mountains 
 
 And the fishers of the sea. J 4 
 
 And he came and went unweary, 
 
 And read the books of yore, 
 And the runes that were written of old 
 
 On stones upon the moor. 
 And many a name he was told, 
 
 But never the name of his fears 
 Never, in east or west, 
 
 The name that rang in his ears : 
 Names of men and of clans, 
 
 Names for the grass and the tree, J 5 
 
 For the smallest tarn in the mountains, 
 
 The smallest reef in the sea:
 
 354 T1CONDEROGA: 
 
 Names for the high and low. 
 
 The names of the craig and the flat ; 
 But in all the land of Scotland, 
 
 Xever a name like that. 
 
 II. THE SEEKING OF THE NAME. 
 
 And now there was speech in the south, 
 
 And a man of the south that was wise, 
 A periwig'd lord of London, 2 
 
 Called on the clans to rise. 160 
 
 And the riders rode, and the summons 
 
 Came to the western shore. 
 To the land of the sea and the heather, 
 
 To Appin and Mamore. 
 It called on all to gather 
 
 From every scrog and scaur, 
 That loved their fathers' tartan 
 
 And the ancient game of war. 
 And down the watery valley 
 
 And up the windy hill, *7<> 
 
 Once more, as in the olden, 
 
 The pipes were sounding shrill ; 
 Again in highland sunshine 
 
 The naked steel was bright ;
 
 THE WEST HIGHLANDS. 355 
 
 And the lads, once more in tartan, 
 Went forth again to fight. 
 
 / 
 "O, why should I dwell here 
 
 With a weird upon my life, 
 When the clansmen shout for battle 
 
 And the war-swords clash in strife? l8 
 I cannae joy at feast, 
 
 I cannae sleep in bed, 
 For the wonder of the word 
 
 And the warning of the dead. 
 It sings in my sleeping ears, 
 
 It hums in my waking head, 
 The name Ticonderoga, 
 
 The utterance of the dead. 
 Then up, and with the fighting men 
 
 To march away from here, *9 
 
 Till the cry of the great war-pipe 
 
 Shall drown it in my ear!" 
 
 Where flew King George's ensign 
 
 The plaided soldiers went: 
 They drew the sword in Germany, 
 
 In Flanders pitched the tent.
 
 356 TICONDEROGA: 
 
 The bells of foreign cities 
 
 Rang far across the plain : 
 They passed the happy Rhine, 
 ' They drank the rapid Main. 200 
 
 Through Asiatic jungles 
 
 The Tartans filed their way, 
 And the neighing of the war-pipes 
 
 Struck terror in Cathay. 3 
 "Many a name have I heard," he thought, 
 
 "In all the tongues of men, 
 Full many a name both here and there, 
 
 Full many both now and then. 
 When I was at home in my father's house 
 
 In the land of the naked knee, 210 
 
 Between the eagles that fly in the lift 
 
 And the herrings that swim in the sea, 
 And now that I am a captain-man 
 
 With a braw cockade in my hat 
 Many a name have I heard/' he thought, 
 
 "But never a name like that." 
 
 HIS THE PLACE OF THE NAME. 
 
 There fell a war in a woody place, 
 Lay far across the sea,
 
 THE WEST HIGHLANDS. 357 
 
 A war of the march in the mirk midnight 
 And the shot from behind the tree, 220 
 
 The shaven head and the painted face, 
 The silent foot in the wood, 
 
 In a land of a strange, outlandish tongue 
 That was hard to be understood. 
 
 It fell about the gloaming 
 
 The /general stood with his staff, 
 He stood and he looked east and west 
 
 With little mind to laugh. 
 "Far have I been and much have.I seen, 
 
 And kent both gain and loss, 230 
 
 But here we have woods on every hand 
 
 And a kittle water to cross. 
 Far have I been and much have I seen, 
 
 But never the beat of this ; 
 And there's one must go down to that waterside 
 
 To see how deep it is." 
 
 It fell in the dusk of the night 
 
 When unco things betide, 
 The skilly captain, the Cameron, 
 
 Went down to that waterside. 2 4
 
 358 TICONDEROGA: 
 
 Canny and soft the captain went ; 
 
 And a man of the woody land, 
 With the shaven head and the painted face, 
 
 Went down at his right hand. 
 It fell in the quiet night, 
 
 There was never a sound to ken ; 
 But all of the woods to the right and the left 
 
 Lay filled with the painted men. 
 
 \ 
 "Far have I been and much have I seen, 
 
 Both as a man and boy, 
 But never-have I set forth a foot 
 
 On so perilous an employ.'' 
 It fell in the dusk of the night 
 
 When unco things betide, 
 That he was aware of a captain-man 
 
 Drew near to the waterside. 
 He was aware of his coming 
 
 Down in the gloaming alone ; 
 And he looked in the face of the man 
 
 And lo ! the face was his own. 
 
 "This is my weird," he said, 
 "And now I ken the worst;
 
 THE WEST HIGHLANDS. 359 
 
 For many shall fall the morn, 
 
 But I shall fall with the first. 
 O, you of the outland tongue, 
 
 You of the painted face, 
 This is the place of my death ; 
 
 Can you tell me the name of the place ?" 
 
 "Since the Frenchmen have been here 
 
 They have called it Sault-Marie; 2 7<> 
 
 But that is a name for priests, 
 
 And not for you and me. 
 It went by another word," 
 
 Quoth he of the shaven head : 
 "It was called Ticonderoga 
 
 In the days of the great dead." 
 And it fell on the morrow's morning, 
 
 In the fiercest of the fight, 
 That the Cameron bit the dust 
 
 As he foretold at night ; 
 And for fram the holls of heather, 
 
 Far from the isles of the sea, 
 He sleeps in the place of the name, 
 
 As it was doomed to be.
 
 NOTES TO TICONDEROGA. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. I first heard this legend of my own 
 country from that friend of men of letters, Mr. Alfred 
 Nutt, "there in roaring London's central stream" ; and 
 since the ballad first saw the light of day in Scribner's 
 Magazine, Mr. Nutt and Lord Archibald Campbell have 
 been in public controversy on the facts. Two clans, the 
 Camerons and the Campbells, lay claim to this 
 bracing story ; and they do well : the man who preferred 
 his plighted troth to the commands and menaces of the 
 dead is an ancestor worth disputing. But the Campbells 
 must rest content : they have the broad lands and the 
 broad page of history ; this appanage must be denied 
 them ; for between the name of Cameron and that of 
 Campbell, the muse will never hesitate. 
 
 Note i, verse 68. Mr. Nutt reminds me it was "by my 
 sword and Ben Cruachan" the Cameron swore. 
 
 Note 2, verse 159. "A periwig'd lord of London." 
 The first Pitt. 
 
 Note 3, verse 204. "Cathay." There must be some 
 omission in General Stewart's charming "History of the 
 Highland Regiments." a book that might well be repub- 
 lished and continued ; or it scarce appears how our 
 friend could have got to China. 
 
 360
 
 HEATHER ALE.
 
 HEATHER ALE: A GALLOWAY 
 LEGEND. 
 
 FROM the bonny bells of heather 
 
 They brewed a drink ong-syne, 
 Was sweeter far than honey, 
 
 Was stronger far than wine. 
 They brewed it and they drank it, 
 
 And lay in a blessed swound 
 For days and days together 
 
 In their dwellings underground. 
 
 There rose a king in Scotland, 
 
 A fell man to his foes, 
 He smote the Picts in battle, 
 
 He hunted them like roes. 
 Over miles of the red mountain 
 
 He hunted as they fled, 
 And strewed the dwarfish bodies 
 
 Of the dying and the dead. 
 
 Summer came in the country, 
 Red was the heather bell ; 
 363
 
 364 HEATHER ALE: 
 
 But the manner of the brewing 
 
 Was none alive to tell. 2Q 
 
 In graves that were like children's 
 
 On many a mountain head, 
 The Brewsters of the Heather 
 
 Lay numbered with the dead. 
 
 The king in the red moorland 
 
 Rode on a summer's day ; 
 And the bees hummed, and the curlews 
 
 Cried beside the way. 
 The king rode, and was angry, 
 
 Black was his brow and pale, 3 
 
 To rule in a land of heather 
 
 And lack the Heather Ale. 
 
 It fortuned that his vassals, 
 
 Riding free on the heath, 
 Came on a stone that was fallen 
 
 And vermin hid beneath. 
 Rudely plucked from their hiding, 
 
 Never a word they spoke : 
 A son and his aged father 
 
 Last of the dwarfish folk. 4
 
 A GALLOWAY LEGEND. 365 
 
 The king sat high on his charger, 
 
 He looked on the little men ; 
 And the dwarfish and swarthy couple 
 
 Looked at the king again. 
 Down by the shore he had them; 
 
 And there on the giddy brink 
 "I will give you life, ye vermin, 
 
 For the secret of the drink." 
 
 There stood the son and father 
 
 And they looked high and low; 5* 
 
 The heather was red around them, 
 
 The sea rumbled below. 
 And up and spoke the father, 
 
 Shrill was his voice to hear : 
 "I have a word in private, 
 
 A word for the royal ear. 
 
 "Life is dear to the aged, 
 
 And honour a little thing ; 
 I would: gladly sell the secret," 
 
 Quoth the Pict to the King. &> 
 
 His voice was small as a sparrow's, 
 
 And shrill and wonderful clear:
 
 HEATHER ALE: 
 
 "I would gladly sell my secret, 
 Only my son I fear. 
 
 "For life is a little matter, 
 
 And death is naught to the young; 
 And I dare not sell my honour 
 
 Under the eye of my son. 
 Take him, O king, and bind him, 
 
 And cast him far in the deep; 7 
 
 And it's I will tell the secret 
 
 That I have sworn to keep." 
 
 They took the son and bound him, 
 
 Xeck and heels in a thong, 
 And a lad took him and swung him, 
 
 And flung him far and strong, 
 And the sea swallowed his body, 
 
 Like that of a child of ten ; 
 And there on the cliff stood the father, 
 
 Last of the dwarfish men. 80 
 
 "True was the word I told you: 
 Only my son I feared ;
 
 A GALLOWAY LEGILXD. 367 
 
 For I doubt the sapling courage 
 
 That goes without the beard. 
 But now in vain is tlje torture, 
 
 Fire shall never avail : 
 Here dies in my bosom 
 
 The secret of Heather Ale."
 
 NOTE TO HEATHER ALE. 
 
 Among the curiosities of human nature, this legend 
 claims a high place. It is needless to remind the reader 
 that the Picts were never exterminated, and form to this 
 day a large proportion of the folk of Scotland, occupying 
 the eastern and the central parts, from the Firth of 
 Forth, or perhaps the Lammermoors, upon the south, 
 to the Ord of Caithness on the north. That the blun- 
 dering guess of a dull chronicler should have inspired 
 men with imaginary loathing for their own ancestors is 
 already strange: that it should have begotten this wild 
 legend seems incredible. Is it possible the chronicler's 
 error was merely nominal ? that what he told, and what 
 the people proved themselves so ready to receive, about 
 the Picts. was true or partly true of some anterior and 
 perhaps Lappish savages, small of stature, black of hue, 
 dwelling underground possibly also the distillers of 
 some forgotten spirit? See Mr. Campbell's Tales of the 
 West Highlands.
 
 CHRISTMAS AT SEA.
 
 CHRISTMAS AT SEA. 
 
 THE sheets were frozen hard, and they cut the 
 
 naked hand ; 
 The decks were like a slide, where a seaman 
 
 scarce could stand ; 
 The wind was a nor'wester, blowing squally off 
 
 the sea; 
 And cliffs and spouting breakers were the only 
 
 things a-lee. 
 
 They heard the surf a-roaring before the break 
 
 of day; 
 But 'twas only with the peep of light we saw 
 
 how ill we lay. 
 We tumbled every hand on deck instanter, with a 
 
 shout, 
 And we gave her the maintops'l, and stood by to 
 
 go about. 
 
 All day we tacked and tacked between the South 
 Head and the North ; 
 371
 
 372 CHRISTMAS AT SEA. 
 
 All day we hauled the frozen sheets, and got no 
 farther forth ; 1 
 
 All day as cold as charity, in bitter pain and 
 dread, 
 
 For very life and nature we tacked from head to 
 head. 
 
 We gave the South a wider berth, for there the 
 
 tide-race roared ; 
 But every tack we made we brought the North 
 
 Head close aboard: 
 So's we saw cliffs and houses, and the breakers 
 
 running high, 
 And the coastguard in his garden, with his glass 
 
 against his eye. 
 
 The frost was on the village roofs as white as 
 
 ocean foam; 
 The 'good red fires were burning bright in every 
 
 'longshore home; 
 The windows sparkled clear, and the chimneys 
 
 volleyed out ; 
 And I vow we sniffed the victuals as the vessel 
 
 went about. 20
 
 CHRISTMAS AT SEA. 373 
 
 The bells upon the church were rung with a 
 mighty jovial cheer; 
 
 For it's just that I should tell you how (of all 
 days in the year) 
 
 This day of our adversity was blessed Christ- 
 mas morn. 
 
 And the- house above the coastguard's was the 
 house where I was born. 
 
 O well I saw the pleasant roof, the pleasant faces 
 
 there, 
 My mother's silver spectacles, my father's silver 
 
 hair ; 
 And well I saw the firelight, like a flight of 
 
 homely elves, 
 Go dancing round the china-plates that stand 
 
 upon the shelves. 
 
 And well I knew the talk they had, the talk that 
 
 was of me, 
 Of the shadow on the household and the son 
 
 that went to sea : 30 
 
 And O, the wicked fool I seemed, in every kind 
 
 of way,
 
 374 CHRISTMAS AT SEA. 
 
 To he here and hauling frozen ropes on blessed 
 Christmas Day. 
 
 They lit the high sea-light, and the dark began 
 to fall. 
 
 "All hands to loose topgallant sails," I heard the 
 captain call. 
 
 "By the Lord, she'll never stand it," our first 
 mate, Jackson, cried. 
 
 . . . "It's the one way or the other, Mr. Jack- 
 son," he replied. 
 
 She staggered to her bearings, but the sails were 
 
 new and good, 
 And the ship smelt up to windward just as 
 
 though she understood. 
 As the winter's day was ending, in the entry of 
 
 the night, 
 We cleared the weary headland, and passed below 
 
 the light. 40 
 
 And they heaved a mighty breath, every soul on 
 board but me,
 
 CHRISTMAS AT SEA. 375 
 
 As they saw her nose again pointing handsome 
 
 out to sea ; 
 But all that I could think of, in the darkness and 
 
 the cold, 
 Was just that I was leaving home and my folks 
 
 were growing old.
 
 7/3
 
 A 000 034 322 8 
 
 A