POEM S : NEW AND OLD

BY HENRY NEWBOLT

NEW YORK

E . P. DUTTON AND COMPANY

192 1

EDWARD

VISCOUNT GREY OF FALLODON,K.G .

AUTHOR’

S NOTE

T11 13 volume forms a complete coll ection of all mypubl ished work in vers e from 1 897 to 191 8 . It includes

the contents of five previou s volumes : Admirals All

Tbe I sland Race Tine Sailing ofth e LongSlaz

'

ps Songs ofM emory and Hope and St.

Ge orge’s Day together with a number of pieces

added to the later editions of the firs t two of these,

ten poems first collected in Poems : New and Old

and s ix which have not hither to appeared in book form .

H . N .

CONTENTS

PAGE

SON GS OF T HE FLEET1 . SA I L IN G AT DAWNI I . THE SONG OF THE SOU’ WESTERI I I . THE M IDDLE WATCHIV . THE LITTLE ADM IRALV . THE SON G OF T HE GUN S AT SEA

i

V I . FAREWELLODE FOR TRAFALGAR DAY

,1905

THE HUNDREDTH YEARDRAKE’S DRUM

THE FIGHT IN G TEMERAIRE

ADM IRALS ALL

SAN STEFAN OHAWKETHE BR IGHT MEDUSATHE OLD SUPERBTHE ! UARTER-GUN NER’S YARNN ORTHUMBERLANDFOR A TRAFALGAR CENOTAPHCRAVENMESSMATESTHE DEATH OF ADM IRAL BLAKEV IE VI CTI S

x ii CONTENTSPAGE

M IN ORA S IDERA

LAUDABUNT ALI IADM IRAL DEATHHOMEWARD BOUND

THE K IN G’S H IGHWAYA CHANTY OF THE EMDENTHE SERV I CEG I LLESP IE

SER IN GAPATAMA BALLAD OF J OH N N I CHOLSON

THE GU IDE S AT CABUL,1 879

THE GAY GORDON S

THE TOY BANDA LETTER FROM THE FRONTHE FELL AMON G TH IEVESION I CUS

THE N ON-COMBATANTTHE WAR FI LM SST . GEORGE ’S DAYH IC JACET

SACRAMENTUM SUPREMUMV

’l

-C L IFTON CHAPEL!V ITA'

I‘

LAMPADA

THE V IG I L

T o BELG IUM,191 4

THE SAI L IN G OF THE LON G- SH I PSWAGGON H I LL

THE VOLUNTEERTHE ON LY SONTHE GRENAD IER’S GOOD-BYETHE S CHOO LFELLOW

CONTENTS x iii

ON S P ION KOPTHE SCHOOL AT WARBY THE HEARTH —STON EPEACE

APR I L ON WAGGON H ILL

THE FOURTH OF AUGUSTA BALLAD OF S IR PERTAB S IN GH

COMMEMORAT IO NTHE ECH OTHE BEST SCH OO L OF ALLENGLANDV ICTOR IA REG INAT HE K IN G OF EN GLAND

THE N I LESRAHMANDAZI

OUTWARD BOUNDHOPE THE HORN BLOWERo PULCHR ITUDO

THE FINAL MYSTERYI L SANTOIN JULYFROM GENERAT ION T o GENERATIONWHEN I REMEMBER

MORS JANUA

RONDE L

RONDELBALADETHE LAST WORDTHE V IK IN G’S SON G

THE SUFI IN TH E C ITYT o EDWARD FITZGERALD

xiv CO NTENTS

YATTENDONDEVON

AMON G THE TOMBSGOLD

A SOWER

THE MOSSROSE

AVE,SOROR

T o A R IVER IN THE SOUTHON THE DEATH OF A N OBLE LADYM IDWAYAD MAT REM DOLOROSAM

SN OW-WHITEVRAIS AMANTSTHE SAN GREALS IR HUGH THE PALMERTHE PRESENTAT IONTHE IN HER ITAN CEAMORE ALT IEROTHE PEDLAR’S SON G

BENED ICK’S SON G

LOVE AND C R IEF

EGER IA’S S I LEN CE

TRUE THOMASC LERK SAUNDERS

AGAIN ST OBL IV IONFOND COUNSEL

YOUTHTHE WANDERERTHE ADVENTURERSTo CLARETHE RETURN OF !

SUMMER : AN ECLOGUE

CONTENTS

DREAM-MARKETSON G OF THE CH I LDREN IN PALADORE

THE CICALA S AN IDYLLTHE FAUNFIDELE’S GRASSY TOMBMOON SETA SON G OF E! MOORMASTER AND MAN

GAVOTTEIMOGENNEL ME z z o DEL CAMMiN

THE INVAS IONRILLOBY-R I LL

PEREUNT ET IMPUTANTURFELI! ANTON IUSIRELAND

,IRELAND

HYMNTHE BU I LD IN G OF THE TEMPLEEP I STLEAN ES SAY ON CR ITI C I SMLE BYRON DE N O S JOURSNOTES

! V

O str e ngth d 1v1n e of Roman days ,0 sp l r l t o f th e ag e o f faith ,

Go With our sons on a l l th e ir ways ,Whe n w e long S inc e ar e dust and wraith.

POEM S : NEW AND OLD

Songs of tbe Fleet

Sailing at D awn

NE by one the pale s tars die b efore the day now,

One by one the great ships are st irr ing fromtheir sl eep

,

Cables all are rumbling,anchors all a-weigh now

,

Now the fleet’s a fleet again,gl id ing towards the deep .

Now ibe fle e t’s a fle e t again, bound upon zbe old ways,

Sple ndou r oftbe past come s sbin ing in tbe sprayAdmirals ofold time , bring us on tbe bold ways

Souls ofall ibe se a-dogs, le ad tbe line to—day

Far away behind us town and tower are dw indl ing,

Home becomes a fair dream faded long agoInfinite ly glorious th e height of heaven is kindling,Infinite ly desolate the shoreless sea below .

Now tbe fle e t’s a fle e t again, bound upon zbe old ways,

Sple ndou r ofzbe past come s sbining in tbe sprayAdmirals ofold time , bring us on ibe bold ways

Souls ofall tbe se a-dogs, le ad tbe line to-day

2 SAI LING AT DAWN

Once again with proud hearts we make the Old surrender,Once again with high hearts serve the age to b e

,

Not for us the warm l ife of E arth,secure and tender

,

Ours the eternal wandering and war fare of the sea .

Now ibe fle e t’s a fle e t again, bound upon tbe old ways,

Sple ndour o/ tbe past come s sbining in tbe sprayAdmirals ofold time , bring us on tbe bold ways

Sou ls ofall tbe se a-dogs, le ad tbe line to—u’

ay I

I I

Tbe Song of tbe Sou’ Wester

HE sun was los t in a leaden Sky,

And th e shore l ay under our lee ;When a great Sou’ Wester hurricane high

Came roll icking up the sea .

He played with the fleet as a boy with boatsTill out for the Downs we ran

,

And he laugh’d with the roar of a thousand throats

At th e militant ways of man

Ob I am tbe enemy most ofmigbt,Tbe otbe r be wbo you ple aseGunne r and guns may all be rigbt,

Flags a-flying and armour tigbt,

But I am tbe fe llow you ’

ve first to flgbt

Tbe giant tbat swings tbe se as .

A dozen Ofmiddies were down below

Chas ing the ! th ey love,

Whil e the table curtseyed long and slow

And the lamps were giddy above .

THE SON G OF THE SOU’ WESTER

The l esson was all Ofa ship and a shot,

And some of it may have b een tru e,

But the word they heard and never forgot

Was the word of th e wind that b lew

Ob I am tbe e nemy most ofmigbt,Tbe otbe r be wbo you ple aseGunn e r and guns may all be rigbt,

Flags a -flying and armour tigbt,

Bu t I am tbe fe llow y ou’

ve first to flgbt

Tbe giant tbat swings zbe se as.

The Middy with luck is a Captain soon,

With luck he may hear one dayHis own big guns a—humming the tune

’Twas in Trafalgar ’s Bay .

”

But wherever he goes,with friends o r foes

,

And whatever may there befall,

He’ll hear fo r ever a voice he knows

For ev er defying them all

Ob I am tbe e nemy most ofmigbt,‘I be otbe r be wbo you ple aseGunne r and guns may all be rigbt,

Flags a-flying and armou r tigbt,

Bu t I am tbe fe llow you ’ve first to flgbt

7 be giant that swings tbe se as.

III

Tbe Middle Wa re /b

N a blu e dusk the Ship astern

Uplifts her sl ender spars,

With golden l ights that s eem to burnAmong th e silver s tars .

Like fleets along a cloudy shore

The constellations creep,

Like planets on the ocean floor

Our silen t cours e vse keep .

And ove r tbe e ndle ss plain,

Ou t oftbe n igbt forlorn

Rise s a faint re fra in,

A song oftbe day to be born

Watcb,ob watcb till ye find aga in

Life and tbc land ofmorn .

From a dim West to a dark East

Our l ines u na e ring head,As if th e ir mot ion long had ceasedAnd Time itself were dead .

T HE M IDDLE WATCH

Vainly we watch the deep below,Vainly the void above

,

They d ied a thousand years ago

Life and the land we love .

Bu t ove r zbe e ndle ss plain,Ou t oftbe nigbt forlorn

Rise s a faint re frain,

A song oftbe day to be born

Watcb,ob watcb till ye find aga in

Life and ibe land ofmorn .

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8 THE LITTLE ADM IRAL

There are queer things that only come to sailo rm e n

They’re true,bu t they’re never unders tood ;

And I know one thing about the Admiral,

That I can’t tell rightly as I should .

I’ve been with him when hope sank under u sH e hardly s eemed a mortal l ike th e rest

,

I could swear that he h ad stars upon his uniform,

And one sleeve p inned across his breast .

Stand by, e tc.

Some day we’re bound to sight the enemy,He’s com ing

,tho’ he hasn ’t yet a name .

Keel to keel and gun to gun he’ll challe nge

To meet him at the Great Armada game .None knows what may b e the e nd of it

,

But we’ll all give our bod ies and our souls

To see th e l itt le Admiral a-playing him

A rubb er Ofthe old Long Bowls

Stand by, e tc.

V

Tbe Song of t lz e Guns a t Sea

H hear ! Oh hear !Across th e sull en t id e,

Across th e echoing dome horizon-wid eWhat puls e of fear

Beats with tremendous boom

What call of instant doom,

With thund e rstroke of terror and of pride,With urgency that may no t b e denied,Reverberates upon the heart’s own drumCome l Come ! for thou must come !

Come forth,0 Soul

This is thy day o f power.This is the day and this the glorious hour

That was th e goal

Of thy self-conquering strife .The love of child and wife

,

The fields of Earth and the wide ways of Thought

Did not thy purpose count them all as nought

That in this moment thou thysel f mayst giveAnd in thy country

’

s l ife fo r ever l ive i’

9

I O THE SON G OF T HE GUN S AT SEA

Therefore rejoice

That in thy passionate prirn e

Youth’s nobler hope disdained the spoils OfTirn eAnd thine own choice

Fore-earned for thee this day .

Rejo ice rejoice to ob eyIn the great hour of l ife that men call DeathThe beat that b ids thee draw heroic breath

,

Deep-throbb ing till thy mortal heart b e dumb

Come ' Come ' the t im e is come !

Farewell

OTHER,with unbow ed head

Hear thou across the sea

Th e farewell Ofth e dead,The dead who died for thee .

Greet them again with tender words and grave,For

,s aving thee

,themselves they could not save .

To keep the house unharmed

Their fathers built so fair,

Deeming endurance armed

Better than bru te despair,They found the s ecret of the word that saith

,

Service is sweet,fo r all true l ife is death .

”

So greet thou well thy deadAcross the homeless sea

,

And b e thou comforted

Because they died for thee .Far offthey served

,bu t now their deed is

Fo r evermore their l ife and thine are one .

Oa’e for Trafalgar Day, 1 90 5

Partia l firing continue d unti l wh e n a victory h av1ng be e nr e porte d to th e RIgh t Honourabl e Lord V iscoun t Ne lson

,K .B .

,and

Commande r-in-Ch i e f,h e the n d i e d o f his wound .

”— Lo g of th e V ictory ,

Octob e r 2 1 , 1 80 5 .

NGLAND to-day let fire b e in thine eyes

And in thy hear t the throb of leaping guns

Crow n in th y s treet s the deed that never d ies,And tell their fathers’ fame to all thy sonsBehold behold on that unchanging sea

Where day behind Trafalgar rises pal e,How dread the s torm to b eDrifts up with ominous breath

Cloud after towering cloud of b illowy sail

Full charged with thunder and the bolts of death .

Yet when the noon is past,and thy delight

,

More d elicat e fo r these good hundr e d years,

Has drunk the splendour and the sound o f fightAnd the sweet st ing of long-s ince vanished fears,

Then,England

,come thou down with Sterner l ips

From the bright world Of thy sub stantial power,

Forget thy seas,thy ships

,

And that wide echoing domeTo watch the soul of man in his dark hou r

Redeeming yet his dear lost l and Ofhome.1 2

ODE FOR TRAFALGAR DAY,1905

What place is this What under-world of pain

Al l shadow-barred with glare Ofswinging firesWhat writhing phantoms of the newly sl ainWhat cries What thir s t consuming all des ires

This is th e field Ofbatt le not for life,

Not for the deeper l ife that dwells in love,

Not for th e s avour of strifeOr the far call o f fame

,

Not for all these the fight all these aboveThe soul of this man cherished Duty’s name .

His steadfas t h Op e from self has turned away,For the Cause only must he s t ill contendHow goes the day with us How goes th e day

He craves no t victory,bu t to make an e nd .

Therefore not yet thine hou r,0 Death : bu t wh en

The weapons forged agains t his country’s peaceLie broken round him— then

Give h im the kiss supreme ;Then let th e tumul t of his warfare ceas e

And the las t dawn dispel his anguished dream .

1 3

Tbe H u ndr e a’tb Tear

Drak e , and B lake , and Ne lson ’s mighty name .

HE s tars w ere faint in heavenThat s aw the Old Year die

The dream-white mist OfDevonShut in the seaward sky :

Before the dawn’s unveiling

I heard three voices hailing,

I saw three ships come sailingWith lanterns gleaming high.

The first he cried de fianceA full-mouthed voice and bold

On God b e our reliance,

Our hope the Spaniard’s gold !With a st ill

,s tern ambuscado

,

With a roaring escalado,

We’l l sack their E ldoradoAnd storm their dungeon hold

Then slowly spake the s econdA great sad voice and deep

When all your gold is reckoned,

There is bu t this to keep1 4

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D r abe’

s D rum

RAKE he’s in his hammock an’ a thou s and mil eaway

,

(Capten, art tha sle e pin’ there below i),

Slung atween th e round shot in Nombre Dios Bay,An’ dreamin’ arl the tim e 0 ’ Plymouth Hoe.

Yarnd e r lumes the Isl and, ya

—rnde r l ie the ships,

Wi’ sailor l ads a-dancin’ heel—an’-t0 e

,

An’ the shore-lights flashin’

,an’ the night-tide dash in’

,

He sees e t arl so plainly as he saw e t long ago .

Drake he was a Devon m an,an’ ruled the Devon s eas

,

(Capten, ar t tha sle e p in’there below

Rovin’th o

’ his d eath fell,he wen t w i’ hear t at eas e

,

An’ dreamin’ arl the time 0 ’Plymouth Hoe .

Take my drum to England,hang e t by the shore,

Strike e t when your powder ’s runnin’ low

If the Dons sight Devon,I

’ll quit the port 0 ’ Heaven

,

An’ drum them up the Channel as we drummed themlong ago .

”

Drake he’s in his hammock till the great Armadas come,

(Capten,,

ar t th a sl e e p in’there b elow i),

Slung atween the round shot liste nin’ for the drum,

An’ dreamin’ arl the time 0 Plymouth Hoe .1 6

DRAKE’S DRUM 1 7

Call him on the deep sea, call him up the Sound,Call h im when ye sail to meet the foe ;

Where the Old trade’s plyin’ an’ the Old flag flyin

’

They shall find him ware an’ wakin’

,as they found

long ! ago

Tbe Fig / Ming Te'

rn e’

r a ir e

T was eight bells ringing,

For the morni ng w atch was done,

And the gunner’s l ad s were s inging

As they po lish e d ‘

e ve ry gun .

I t Was eight bell s r inging,And the gunner’s l ads were s inging

,

For the ship she rode a—swinging

AS they polished every gun .

Ob to se e tbe linstocle ligbting,‘I éme

'

raire Te'

me'

ra ire

Ob to be ar tbe round sbat biting,

Teme'

raire Téméraire

Ob to se e ibe linstoc/e ligbting,

And to be ar tbe round sbot biting,

For we’re all in love witb figbting

On tbe Figbting Téméraire .

It was noontide ringing,And the battl e jus t begun,

When the Ship her way was winging

AS they loaded every gun .

1 8

THE FIGHTI NG TEMERAIRE

It was noontide r inging,

When the Ship her way was winging,

And the gunner ’!

s l ads were S inging

As they loaded every gun .

Tbe re’ll be many grim and gory,

Teme'

raire Téméraire

Ybe re ’ll be few to te ll tbe story,

Téme'

raire Témérair e

Tbe re’ll be many grim and gory,

Tbe re’ll be few to te ll tbe story,

But we’ll all be on e in glory

Witb tbe figbting Téméraire .

There’s a far bell ringing

At the setting of th e sun,

And a phantom voice is s inging

Of the great days done .There’s a far bell r inging

,

And a phantom voice is s inging

Of renown for ever clingingTo the great days done .

Now ibe sunse t bre e z e s sbive r,

Te’

méraire Téme'

raire

And sbe’s fading down ibe rive r

,

Teme'

raire Téméraire

Now tbe sunse t bre e z e s sbive r,

And sbe’s fading down tbe rive r

,

Bu t in England’s song for eve r

Sbe’s tbe Figbting e

'

me'

raire .

I 9

Admirals All

FF INGHAM,Grenville

,Raleigh

,Drake

,

Here’s to the bold and free !Benbow

,Collingwood

,Byron

,Blake

,

Hail to the K ings of the SeaAdmirals all

,for Engl and’s s ake

,

Honour b e yours and fame

And honour,as long as waves Shall break

,

To Nelson’s peerless name

Admirals all, for England

’s sake

,

Honour be yours and fameAnd bonour

,as long as wave s sball bre ak

,

7 0 N e lson’s p e e rle ss name

E ssex was fret ting in Cad iz BayWith the galleons fair in sight ;

Howard at las t must give h im his w ay,And the word was pas sed to fight .

Never was schoolboy gayer than he,Since holidays firs t began

He tossed his bonnet to wind and sea,And under the guns he ran .

20

ADM IRALS ALL

Drake nor devil no r tSpaniard feared,Their cities he put to the sack

He s inged his Catholic Maj esty’s beard,

And harried his ships to wrack .

He was playing at Plymouth a rubber o f bowl s

When the great Armada came

But he said,They must wait their turn

,good

And he stooped,and finished the game .

Fifteen s ail were the Dutchmen bold,

Duncan he had bu t two

But h e anchored them fast where the Texe l shoaled

And his colour s aloft he flew .

! I’ve taken the depth to a fathom

,

” he cr ied,

! And I’ll S ink with a right good will,

For I know when we’re all of us under the tide,

My flag will b e fluttering Still .”

Spl inters were flying above,below

,

When Nelson sail ed the Sound

Mark you,I wouldn’t b e elsewhere now

,

Said he,

! fo r a thousand pound

The Admiral’s s ignal bade him fly,

But he wickedly wagged his h ead,

He clapped the glass to his s ightless eyeAnd I

’m damned if I see it

,

” he said .

Admirals all,they said their say

(The echoes are r inging still),Admirals all

,they went their way

To th e haven under the hill .

2 1

22 ADM IRALS ALL

But they l eft us a kingdom none can take,The realm Of the circl ing sea

,

To b e rul ed by th e rightful sons of BlakeAnd the Rodneys yet to be .

Admirals all, for England

’s sake

,

Honour be yours and fameAnd bonou r

,as long as wave s sball bre ak

,

To Ne lson’s p e e rle ss name l

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24 SAN STEFAN O

She was nearer,nearer

,nearer

,they were caught beyond

a doub t,

But they slipped her,into Orbetello Bay

,

And the lubbers gave a shout as they paid their cabl eso u t

,

With the guns grinning round them where they lay .

Now S ir Peter w as a captain of a famous fighting race,

Son and grandson of an admiral was he ;And he looked upon the batteries

,he looked upon the

chas e,

And he heard the Shout that echoed out to sea .

And he called across the decks,Ay the cheering might

be lateIf they kept it till the M e ne laus runs

B id the master and his mate heave the lead and lay her

s traightFor the prize lying yonder by the guns .

When the summer moon was s etting,into Orbetello

Bay

Came the M e ne laus gl id ing l ike a ghost

And her boats were manned in s ilence,and in s ilenc e

pull ed away,

And in s ilence every gunner took his post .With a volley from her broads ide the citadel she woke

,

And they hammered back l ike heroes all the night ;But befo re the morning b roke she had vanished through

th e smoke

With her prize upon her quarter grappled tight .

SAN STEFAN O 25

It was evening at St . Helen’s,in the great and gallant

t ime,

And the Sky beh ind the down was flushing far ;And the flags were all a-flu tte r

,and the bells were al l

a-chime,

When the frigate cast her anchor Off the bar.

She’d a right figh ting company,three hundred men and

more,

N ine and forty guns in tackle running free ;And they cheered her from the shore for her colours at

the fore,

When the bold M e ne laus came from sea .

Sbe’d a rigbtfigbting company, tbre e bundredme n andmore

,

Nin e and forty guns in tackle running fre eAnd ibey cbe e re d be r from tbe sbore for be r colours at tbc fore ,Wben tbc bold Menelaus came from se a .

Hawke

N seventeen hundred and fifty nine,

When Hawke came swooping from the West,

The French K ing’s Admiral with twenty Of the l ine,

Was sail ing forth,to s ack u s, out of Bres t .

The ports of France were crowded,the quays of Francea-h um

With thirty thousand soldiers marching to the drum,

For bragging time was over and fighting time was come

When Hawke came swooping from the West .

’Twas long past noon Ofa wild Novemb er day

When Hawke came swooping from the West ;He heard the breakers thundering in ! uiberon Bay,But he flew the flag for battle

,l ine abreas t .

Down upon the quicksands roaring ou t of sight

F iercely beat the storm-wind,darkly fell the night

,

But they took the fo e for pilo t and the cannon’s glare fo rl ight

When Hawke came Swooping from the West .

The Frenchmen turned l ike a covey down the wind

When Hawke came swooping from the West

One he sank with all hands,on e he caught and pinned

,

And the shallows and the storm took the rest .26

HAWKE 27

The guns that sh ould have conquered us they rusted on

the shore,

The men that would have mastered us they drummedand marched no more

,

For England was England,and a mighty brood she bore

When Hawke came swooping from the West .

T/z e Br ig bt Medusa

(1 807)

HE’S the daughter o f the breeze ,Sh e’s the darl ing Ofthe seas

,

And we call her,if you please

,the bright M e du— sa

From beneath her bosom bare

To the snakes among her hairShe’s a flash 0

’ golden l ight,the bright M edu sa .

When the ens ign dips above

And the guns are all for love,

She’s as gentle a s a dove,the bright M e du— sa

But when the Shot’s in rackAnd h e r forestay fl ies the J ack

,

He’s a merry man would sl ight the bright M e du

When she go t the word to go

Up to Mont e Video,

There she found the river low,the bright M e du - sa

So she tumbled out her guns

And a hundred of her sons,

And Sh e taught the Dons to fight the brigh t M e du— sa .

2 8

T HE BRIGHT MEDUSA 29

When the foeman can b e found

With the pluck to cross her ground,

First she walks him round and round,the bright

M edu — sa

Then sh e rakes him fore and aft

Till he’s just a jolly raft,

And Sh e grabs him like a k ite,the bright M e du sa .

She’s the daughter of the breeze,

She’s the darling of the seas,

And you’ll call her,if you please

,th e bright M e du— sa

For till England’s sun b e setAnd it’s no t for s ett ing yet

She shall b ear her name by right, the bright M e du -sa .

T/z e Old Superb

HE wind was rising eas terly,the morning sky was

blue,

The Straits before us opened wide and free ;We l ooked towards the Admiral

,where high the Peter

flew,

And all our hearts were dancing l ike the sea .

The French are gone to Mar t in ique w ith four-and

twenty s a ilThe Old Sup e rb is old and foul and slow,

But the French are gone to Mar tiniqu e,and Nelson’s on

the trail,

And where he goes the Old Sup e rb must go

So We stward bo .’ for Trinidad and Eastward bo .

’ for

Spain,

And Sbip aboy a bundre d time s a day

Round tbc world ifne e d be , and round tbe world again,

Witb a lame du ck lagging all tbe way

The Old Sup e rb was barnacled and green as grass below,

Her sticks were only fit for s tirring grogThe pride of all her midshipmen was S il ent long ago

,

And long ago they ceased to heave th e log .

30

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l e ! uarter— Gunner’s Tarn

E l ay at St . Helen’s,and easy she rode

With one anchor catted and fresh—water s towed

When the barge came alongside l ike bullocks we roared,

For we knew what we carried with Nelson aboard .

Our Capta in was Hardy,the pride o f us all

,

I’ll ask for none better when danger Shall call

He was hardy by nature and Hardy by name,And soon by his conduct to honour he came .

The third day the Lizard w as under our l ee,

Where the Ajax and Tbunde re r jo ined us at sea,

But what with foul weather and tacking about,

Wh en we sighted the Fleet we were thir teen days out .

The Capta ins they all came aboard quick enough,

But the news that they brought was as heavy as duff

So backward an enemy never was s een,They were harder to come at than Cheeks the Marine .

The lubbers had hare’s lugs where seamen have ears,SO we stowed all saluting and smothered our cheers,And to humour their stomachs and tempt them to din e

In the offing we showed them but six Ofthe l ine

32

THE ! UARTER-GUN NER’ S YARN 33

One morning the topmen reported belowThe Old Agamemnon escaped from the fo e .Says Nelson My l ads, there

’ll be honour for some,

For we’re sure Ofa battl e now Berry has come .”

Up hammocks at last cried the bo ’sun at dawnThe guns were cas t loos e and the tompions drawn

The gunner was bustl ing th e shot racks to fill,

And All hands to quar ters was piped with a will .

We now saw the enemy bear ing ahead,

And to E ast of them Cape Traflagar it was said,’Tis a name we remember from father to son

,

That th e days of Old England may never b e done .

The Victory l e d, to her flag it was du e ,Tho’ the Téme

’

raire s thou ght themselves Admirals too

But Lord Nelson he hailed them with master ful grace

Cap’n Harvey,I

’ll thank you to keep in your place .’

To begin with we closed the Bu ce ntaure alone,

An eighty-gun ship and the ir Admiral’s own ;We raked her bu t once

,and th e res t Of the day

Like a hospital hulk on the water Sh e lay .

To our battering next th e Re doutable s truck,

But her sharpshooters gave us the worst of th e luckLord Nelson was wounded

,most cru el to tell .

They’ve done for me,Hardy !” he cried as he fell .

4

34 THE ! UARTER— GUNNER’ S YARN

To the cockpit in s il ence they carried him past,

And s ad were the looks that were after him cast ;His face with a kerchief he tried to conceal

,

But we knew him too well from the truck to the keel .

When the Captain reported a Victory won,

Thank God I he kept s aying,

my duty I’ve done .

At last came the moment to kiss him good—bye,

And the Captain for o nce had the s alt in his e ye .

Now anchor,dear Hardy

,

” the Admiral cried

But before we could make it he fainted and died .

All night in the trough of the s ea we were tossed,And for want of ground-tackle good prizes were lost .

Then we hauled down the flag,at the fore it was red,

And blue at the mizzen was hoisted insteadBy Nelson’s famed Captain

,the pride of each tar,

Who fought in th e Victory OffCape Traflagar.

N or tlzumbe r lana’

Th e Old and Bold.

HEN England sets her banner

And b ids her armour shine ,She’l l not fo rget the famous North

,

The l ads of moor and Tyne

And when the loving-cup’s in hand,

And Honour l e ads the cry,

They know not Old Northumberland

Who’ll pass her memory by .

When Nelson s ailed for TrafalgarWith all his country’s bes t

,

He held them cl ear as brothers are,

But on e b eyond the rest .For when the fleet with hero es manned

To clear th e decks began,

The boas t of Old Nor thumberland

He sent to l ead the van .

Himself by Victory’s bulw arks stood

And cheered to s ee th e s ightThat nob l e fellow Coll ingwood

,

How bold he goes to fight !”

35

NORTHUMBERLAND

Love,that the league o f Ocean spanned

,

Heard him as face to face ;What would he give

,Northumberland ,

To share ou r prid e of place i’

The flag that goes the world around

And flaps on every breezeHas never gladdened fairer groundOr kinder hearts than these .

'

SO when the loving-cup’s in hand

And Honour leads the cry,

They know not Old Northumberland

Who’ll pass her memory by .

For a Trafalgar Ce notap /z

OVER of England,s tand awhile and gaze

With thankful heart,and l ips refrained

prais e ;They rest b e yOnd th e speech Ofhuman pride

Who served with Nelson and with Nelson d ied .

Craven

(MOB ILE BAY,1 864)

VER the turret,shut in h is iron-clad tower

,

Craven was conning his Ship through smokeflame

Gun to gun he had battered the for t for an hour,

Now was th e t ime for a charge to end the game.

There lay the narrowing channel,smooth and grim

,

A hundred deaths beneath it,and never a S ign ;

There lay the enemy’s ships,and s ink or swim

The flag was flying,and he was head of the l ine .

The fleet b ehind was j amming ; the monitor hung

Beating the s tream th e roar fo r a moment hushed .

Craven spoke to the pilot slow she swung ;Again he spoke

,and right for the fo e she rushed .

Into the narrowing channel, between the shore

And the sunk torpedoes lying in treacherous rank ;She turned bu t a yard too shor t ; a muffl ed roar,Amountainous wave

,and she rolled

,righted

,and sank .

38

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Me ssm a t e s

E gave us all a good—by e cheerilyAt the firs t dawn of day ;

We dropped him down the s ide full drearilyWhen the light died away .

It’s a dead dark watch that he’s a-keeping there,

And a long,long night that lags a-creeping there

,

Where the Trades and the t ides roll over himAnd the grea t ships go by .

He’s there alone with green s eas rocking h imFor a thous and miles round ;

He’s there alone with dumb th ings mocking him,

And we’re homeward bound .

I t’s a long,lone watch that he’s a-keeping there

,

And a dead cold night that lags a-creeping there,

Whil e the months and the years 1 011 over h imAnd the great ships go by.

I wonder if the tramps come near enough

As they thrash to and fro,

And the batt le-ships’ b ells ring clear enoughTo be heard down below ;

40

MES SMATE S 4 1

If through all the lone watch that he’s a-keeping there,

And the long,cold night that l ags a-creeping there

,

The voices of the sailor-men shall comfort himWhen the great Ships go by .

Tbe D e a t/z of Admiral Blake

(AUGUST 7TH, 1 657)

ADEN with spoil of the South,fulfilled with the

glory of achievement,

And freshly crowned with never-dying fame,

Sweeping by shores where the names are the names of

the victories of Engl and,

Across the Bay the squadron homeward came .

Proudly they came,bu t their prid e was the pomp of a

funeral at midnight,

When dreader yet the lonely morrow looms

Few are the words that are spoken,and faces are gaunt

beneath the torchl ight

That does bu t darken more the nodd ing plumes .

Low on the field of his fame, pas t hope lay the Admiraltriumphant

,

And fain to res t him after all his pain

Ye t fo r the love that he bore to his own land,ever

unfo rgotten,

He prayed to s ee the western hills again .

42

THE DEATH OF ADM IRAL BLAKE

Fainter than s tars in a sky long gray with the coming ofthe daybreak

,

Or sounds of night that fade when n ight is done,

SO in the death-dawn faded the splendou r and loud

renown of warfare,

And l ife of all its longings kept bu t one .

Oh to be there fo r an hour when the shade draws inbesid e the hedgerows

,

And falling apples wake the drow sv noon

Oh ! for the hou r when the elms grow sombre andhuman in the twilight

,

And gardens dream beneath the rising moon .

Only to look once more on the land of the memories

of childhood,Forgett ing weary winds and barren foam

Only to bid farewell to the combe and th e orchard and

the moorland,And sl eep at last among the fields of home

SO he was silently praying, t ill now,when his s trength

was ebb ing faster,

The Lizard lay b e fo re them faintly blue

Now on the gleam ing horizon the white cliffs laughedalong the coast-l ine

,

And now th e forelands took the Shapes they knew ,

44, T HE DEATH OF ADM IRAL BLAKE

There lay the Sound and the I sland with green l eavesdown b eside the water

,

The town,the Hoe

,the masts with sunset fire d

Dreams ! ay, dreams of the dead for the great heart

faltered on the threshold,

And darkn ess took the land his soul desired .

Vee Victis

E SIDE the placid sea that mirrored herWith the Old glory of dawn that cannot d ie

,

The sleeping city began to moan and st ir,

As one that fain from an ill dre am would fly

Yet more Sh e feared the daylight br inging nighSuch dreams as know not sunrise

,soon or late

,

Vis ions of honour los t and power gone by,Of loyal valour betrayed by factious hate,

And craven sloth that shrank from the labour of forg ing

fate.

They knew and knew not,this bewildered crowd

That up her s treets in s ilence hurrying passed,

What manner of death should make their anguish loud,

What corps e across the funeral pyre b e cas t,

For none had spoken it ; only, gathering fas t

As darkness gathers at noon in th e sun’s ecl ipse,

A shadow Ofdoom enfolded them,vague and vast

,

And a cry was heard, unfathered of earth ly l ips,What of the ships

,0 Carthage ! Carthage, what o f

the ships 3

46 V IE V I CTI S

They reached the wall,and nowis e s trange it s eemed

To find the gates unguarded and open wide ;They cl imbed the shoulder

,and meet enough they

deemed

The black that Shrouded the seaward rampar t’s side

And veiled in drooping gloom the turrets’ pride ;But this was nought

,for suddenly down the slope

They saw the harbour,and sense within them

died

Keel nor mas t was there,rudder nor rope

It lay l ike a sea-hawk’s eyry spoil ed of l ife and hope .

Beyond,where dawn was a gl it ter ing carpet

,rolled

From sky to shore on l evel and endl es s s eas,

Hardly their eyes d iscerned in a dazzl e of gold

That here in fifties, yonder in twos and threes,

The ships they sought, l ike a swarm of drowning

b eesBy a wanton gust on the poo l of a mill-dam hurled

,

Flo at e d forsaken of l ife-giving tide and b reeze,Their o ars broken

,their s ails for ever furled

,

For ever deserted the bu lwarks that guarded the wealthof the world .

A moment y e t, with breathing quickly drawn

And hands agrip , the Car thaginian folk

S tared in the bright untroubled face of d awn,And strove with vehement heaped denial to choke

Their sure surmis e of fate’s impend ing stroke ;

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M in ora Sidera

(THE D I CTIONARY OF NAT IONAL B IOGRAPHY)

ITTING at t imes over a hearth that burns

With dull domestic glow,

My thought,l eaving the book

,gratefully turns

To you who planned it so .

No t'

ofthe great only you deigned to tell

The stars by which we steer

But l ights out o f the night that flashed,and fell

To-night again,are here .

Such as were those,dogs o f an elder day,

Who sacked the golden ports,

And those la ter who dared grapple their preyBeneath the harbour forts

Some with flag at the fore,sweeping the world

To find an equal fight,

And some who jo ined war to their trade, and hurl ed

Ships of the l ine in flight.

48

M INORA S IDERA

Whether their fame centuries long should r ingThey cared not Over-much

,

But cared greatly to s erve God and the king,

And keep the Nelson touch

And fought to build Britain above the tid eOf wars and windy fate ;

And passed content,l eaving to us the pride

Of l ives obscurely grea t .

L a udabun t Alii

(AFTER HORACE)

ET others praise,as fancy wills

,

Berl in b eneath her trees,

Or Rome upon her se V e n hills,

Or Venice by her s easStamboul by doubl e t id es embraced,Or green Damascus in the waste .

For me there’s nought I would no t leaveFor the good Devon land

,

Whose orchards down the echo ing cleeve

Bedewed with spray-drift s tand,

And hardly bear th e red fruit up

That shall b e nex t year ’s cider-cup .

You too,my friend

,m ay wisely mark

How clear skies follow rain,

And l inger ing in your own green park

Or dr illed on Latfan’s Pl a in

,

Forget no t with the festal bowl

To soothe at t imes your weary soul .

so

LAUDABUNT ALI I

Wh en Drake must bid to Plymouth Hoe

Good-by e for many a day ,And some were sad that feared to go

,

And some that dared not s tay,

Be sure he bad e'

th em broach the best

And raised his tankard with the res t .

Drake’s luck to all that s ail with DrakeFor promised l ands of gold

Brave lads,whatever Storms may break

,

We’ve weathered wors e of old

To-night the loving-cup we’ll drain,

To-morrow for the Spanish Main | 7 ,o

Admiral D e a t/z

OYS,are ye call ing a toas t to-night

(Hear what the sea-wind saith)Fill for a bumper s trong and bright

,

And here’s to Admiral Death !He’s s ail ed in a hundred builds o’ boat

,

He’s fought in a thousand kinds 0 ’ coat,

He’s th e s enior flag of all that float,

And his name’s Admiral Death !

Which of you looks for a service free

(Hear what the sea-wind saith)The rules 0 ’ the Service are bu t three

When ye s ail with Admiral Death .

Steady your hand in tim e 0’ squalls

,

Stand to the last by him that falls,

And answer cl ear to the Voice that calls,

AY, ay Admiral Death

How will ye know him among the rest I

(Hear what th e sea-wind s aith)By the gl int o’ the s tars that cover his breast

Ye may find Admiral Death .

5 2

ADM IRAL DEATH

By the forehead grim with an ancient scar,

By the voice that rolls l ike thunder far,

By the tenderest eyes o f all that are,

Ye may know Admiral Death .

Where are the lads that sail e d before(Hear what the s ea-wind s aith)

Their bones are white by many a shore,They sleep with Admiral Death .

Oh ! bu t they loved him ,young and Old

,

For he l eft th e l aggard , and took the bold,

And th e fight was fought,and the story’s

And they sleep with Admiral Death .

53

Hom eward Bound

FTER long labour ing in the windy ways,

On smooth and shining tid es

Swiftly the great ship gl ides,

Her storms forgot,her weary watches past ;

Northward she gl id es, and through the enchanted

Faint on the verge her far hope dawns at las t .

The phantom sky-l ine o f a Shadowy down,Whose pale white cl iffs below

Through sunny mist aglow

Like noon-day ghosts o f summer moonshine gl eam

So ft as o ld sorrow,br ight as Old renown

,

There l ies th e hom e of all ou r mor tal dream .

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THE K I N G’S H IGHWAY

SO long as the s ea-wind blows unbound

And the sea-wave breaks in spray,

For th e I sland’s sons the word st il l runs

The K ing,and the K ing’s Highway !”

A Cban ty of tbe Emden

HE captain of the Emde n

He Spread his wireless net,

And told th e honest Brit ish trampWhere raiders might b e met

Where raiders might b e met,my l ads

,

And where th e coas t was clear,

And there he sat l ike a crafty cat

And sang while they drew near

Now you come along with me,s irs

,

You come along with meYou’ve had your run

,Old England’s done

And it’s t ime you were home from sea

The seamen of old England

They doub ted his intent,

And when he hailed,Abandon ship

They asked him what he meant

They asked him what he meant,my lads

,

The pirate and his crew,

But he said,Stand by ! your ship must

And it’s luck you don’t die too

5 7

A CHANTY OF THE EMDEN

So you come along with me,s ir s

,

You come along with me

We find our fun now yours is done,And it’s t ime you were home from sea

He took her,tramp or trader

,

He sank her l ike a rock,

He stole h e r coal and sent her downTo Davy’s deep-sea dock

To Davy’s deep-sea dock,my l ads,

The finest craft afloat

And as she went he s till would singFrom the deck of his damned Old boat

Now you come along with me,s irs

,

You come along with me :Your good ship’s done with wind and sun

,

And it’s tirn e you were home from sea !

The captain of the SydneyHe got the word by chanceSays he

,By all the Southern Stars

,

We’ll make the pirates dance

We’ll make the pirates dance,my lads

,

That this mad work have made,

Fo r no man knows how a hornpipe go e sUnt il the music’s played .

So you come along with me, sit s,You com e along with! me

The game’s not won till the rubber’s done,

And it’s tirn e to be hom e from se a

A CHANTY OF THE EMDEN 59

The Sydney and the Emde nThey went it Shovel and tongs

,

The Emde n had her rights to prove,

Th e Sydney had her wrongsThe Sydn ey h ad her wrongs, my lads,And a crew o f South Sea blues ;

Their hearts were hot,and as they shot

They sang l ike kangaroos

Now you come along with me,S irs

,

You come along with me

You’ve h ad your fun,you ruddy old Hun

,

And it’s t ime you were home from sea

The Sydney she was straddled,Bu t the Emde n Sh e was strafed

,

They knocked her guns and funnels out,

They fired her fore and aft

They fire d h e r fore and aft, my lads,And While the beggar burned

Th ey salved her crew to a tune they knew,

But never had rightly learned

Now you come along with me, s irs,You come along with me

We’ll find you fun t ill the figh ting’s done

And the pirate’s off the sea

Till tbe pirate ’s oftbc se a, my lads,

Till tbe pirate ’s ofl tbe se a

We’ll find ikem fun till tbc figbting

’s done

And tbe pirate ’s ofl tbc se a

Tbe Serv ice

HE BRITI SH NAVY— all our years have been

Strong in th e pride of it,s ecu re

,s erene .

But who,remember ing wars of long ago

,

Knew what to our Sea-walls we yet sh ou ld owe

Who thought to s ee th e hand Ofshameless shame

With scraps of paper s et the world aflam e,:

Barbarian hordes upon a neighbouring coast

Rape,massacre

,enslave

,b la spheme and boast

,

And s avage monster s,lurking under sea

,

Murder th e wives and children of the free iIf in this batt l e with a power accurst

We have risked all and yet escaped the worst,

Thanks b e to thos e who gave us ships and guns

When generous folly still would trus t in Huns

Thanks b e to those who trained upon the deep

The valour and the Skill that never sl eep ;Thanks above all to those who fight our fight

For Brita in’s honour and for all men’s right .

And now away away put offwith meFrom this dear island to the Open sea

Enter those float ing ramparts on the foam

Where exiled seamen guard their long-lost home

Enter and ask— except of child or wife

Ask the wh ol e s ecret of their ordered l ife .60

THE SERVI CE

Their wisdom has three words,unwrit

,untold

But handed down from heart to heart of o ld

The first is this while ships are ships the aim

Of every man aboard is s till th e same .On land there’s something men self- interest call

,

Here each must save himself by saving all.

Your danger’s m ine : who thinks to stand aside

When the Sh ip’s buffeted by wind and tide iIf she goes down

,we know that we go too

Not jus t th e watch on deck, bu t all the crew.

Mark now what follows— no half-will ing workFrom minds d ivided or from hands that Shirk

,

But that one perfect freedom,that content

Which comes o f force for something greater spent,

And welds us all,from conning tower to keel

,

In one great fellowship of tempered steel .

The th ird is l ike to these — there is no peaceIn the sea-life

,our warfare does not cease .

The great emergency in which we strainWith all our force

,our passion and our pain

,

Is no mere tran sien t fight with host il e kings,

But mortal war against immortal things

Danger and Death themselves,whose end shall

When there i s no more wind and no more sea .

Wh at of this sea-born wisdom Is it notTruth that on land we have too long forgot

While this great ship the Commonweal th’s afloat

Are we no t seamen all,and in one boat

61

62 THE SERVI CE

Have we not all one freedom,lo st and found

When to one service body and soul are bound

And is no t l ife its el f,if s een aright

,

A great emergency,an endless fight

For all men’s native l and, and wor th th e price

Of all men’s s erv ice and their s acrifice

Ah ! had we that s ea-wisdom ,could we steer

By thos e s ame s tars fo r even half the year,How plain would seem

,as viewed from armoured decks

,

The problems that our longshore hearts perplex !Less than his u ttermos t then none would give

,

More than his jus t reward would none receive,

NO nor des ire it,fo r to feast o r hoard

Whil e the next table shows a hungry board,

Whatever modern landm ad e l aws may say

I s no t the cu stom of Trafalgar’s B ay .

The Brotherhood,the Service

,Life at War

,

These are the bonds that hold where heroes are,

These only make the men who weary not,The men who fall rejo ic ing

,self-fo rgot .

Come back to that unfading afternoon

Where Jutland echoes to the Firs t o f June

And Beatty raging with a l ion’s might

Roars out his hear t to keep the foe from flight .

The Grand Fleet comes at l as t the day is oursMil e beyond mile the l ine maj estic towers

The battl e bends : Hood takes the foremost place

With the grand manner of his famous race,

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IDING at dawn,rid ing alone

,

Gillespie l eft the tow n'

l‘

b e h ind ;

Before he turned by the Westward roadA horseman crossed h im

,staggering bl ind .

The Devil’s abro ad in false Vellore,

The Devil that s tab s by night,” he s aid

,

Women and ch ildren,rank and fil e

,

Dying and dead,dying and dead .

”

Without a word,without a groan

,

Sudden and swift Gillespie turned,

The blood roared in his ear s l ike fire,

Like fire the road beneath h im burned .

He thundered back to Arcot gate,

He thundered up through Arcot town,

B efore he thought a s econd thoughtIn the barrack yard h e l ighted down .

Trumpeter,sound for the Light Dragoons

,

Sound to saddle and spur,he said ;

He that is ready may ride with me,

And he that can may ride ahead .

”

64

G I LLE SP IE

Fierce and fain,fierce and fain

,

Behind him went th e troopers grim,

They rode as ride the Light Dfagoons,But never a man could ride with him .

Their rowels ripped their horses’ s ides,

Their hearts were re d with a d eeper goad,

Bu t ever alone before them all

Gill espie rode,Gillespie rode.

Alone he came to false Vellore,

The walls were l ined,the gates were barred

Alone he walked where th e bullets bit,

And called above to the Serg eant’s Guard .

Sergeant,Sergeant

,over the gate

,

Where are your officers all i he saidHeavily came the Sergeant’s voice

,

There are two l iving and forty dead .

A rop e,a rope

,

” Gill espie cried

They bound the ir b elts to serve his need ;There was not a reb e l behind th e wall

But laid his barrel and drew his bead .

There was not a rebel among them allBut pu ll ed his trigger and cursed his aim

,

For l ightly swung and rightly swung

Over the gate Gillespie came .

66 G I LLE S P IE

He dressed the l ine,he l e d the charge

,

They swept the wall l ike a s tream in spate,

And roaring over the roar they heard

The galloper guns that burst the gate .

F ierc e and fain,fierce and fain

,

The troopers rode the re e king flight

The very stones rememb er st illThe e nd of them that stab by night .

They’ve kept the tale a hundred years,

They’ll keep the tale a hundred more

Rid ing at dawn,r id ing alone

,

Gil lespie came to false Vello re .

Seringapatam

HE Sleep that Tippoo Sahib sleeps

Heeds not the cry of manThe faith that Tippoo Sahib keepsNO judge on ear th may scan ;

He is th e lord of wh om ye holdSpirit and sens e and l imb

,

Fetter and ch ain are all ye gain

Who dared to plead with him .

Baird was bonny and Baird was young,

His hear t was strong as Steel,

But l ife and death in the balance hung,

For his wounds were ill to heal .Of fifty chains the Sultan gaveWe have fill ed bu t forty-nine

We dare not fail of th e perfect tal eFor all Golconda’s m ine .”

That was the hour when Lucas firstLeapt to his long renown

Like summer rains his anger burs t,

And swept their scrupl es down .

67

68 SER INGAPATAM

Tell ye the lord to whom ye crouch,

His fetters b ite their fill :To save your oath I’l l wear them both

,

And step the lighter s till .”

The seasons came,the s easons passed

,

They watched their fellows d ie ;Bu t st ill their thought was forward cast

,

Their courage st ill was high .

Through tortured days and fevered nights

Th e ir l imbs alone w ere weak,

And year by year they kept th eir cheer,And spoke as freemen speak.

But once a year,on the fourth of June

,

Their spe e ch to sil ence died,

And th e S il ence beat to a soundless tune

And s ang with a wordl e ss prid e

Till when the Ind ian s tars were bright,

And b ells at home would ring,

To th e fetter s’ clank they rose and drank

England ! God s ave the K ing !

The years cam e,and the years went

,

The wheel full-circl e rolled ;The tyrant’s neck must yet be bent,The price of b lood b e told

The city y e t must hear the roarOf Baird’s avenging guns

,

And see h im s tand with l ifted hand

By Tippoo Sahib’s sons .

SER I N GAPATAM

The lads were bonny,the lads were young,

But h e claimed a pitil ess deb t ;Life and death in th e bal ance hung

,

They watched it swing and s et .Th e y saw h im search with sombre eyes

,

They knew the place he soughtThey saw him fe el for the hilted steel

,

They bowed before his thought .

But h e — h e s aw the prison thereIn the old quiver ing heat

,

Where merry hearts had m e t despair

And died without defeat ;Wh ere feebl e hands h ad raised the cup

For feebl er l ips to drain,

And one h ad worn with smil ing scornHis doub le load of pain .

The sleep tha t Tippo o Sahib sleepsHears not the voice of man

The faith that Tippoo Sahib keeps

NO earthly judge may scan

For all the wrong your father wrought

Your father’s sons are free ;Where Lucas l ay no tongue shall sayThat Mercy bound not me .

A Ballad of jobn N ic/zolson

T fell in the year of Mu t iny,

At darkes t o f the night,

John Nicholson by Jalandhar came,On his w ay to Delhi fight .

And as he by J alandhar came

He thought what he must do,

And he sent to the Raj ah fair greet ing,

To try if he were true .

God grant your Highness length of days,And friends when need shall b e ;And I pray you send your Capta ins hither

,

That they may speak with me .”

On th e morrow through Jalandhar townThe Captains rode in stat e ;

They came to the house of John N icholsonAnd stood before the gate .

The chief of them was Mehtab S ingh,

He was both proud and sly ;His turban gleamed with rub ies red

,

He held h is chin fu ll high .

7°

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72 A BALLAD OF J OH N N I CHO LSON

You are overhasty,Mehtab Singh

,

When that the rest are gone,

I have a word that may not wait

To speak with yo u alone .”

The Captains passed in s ilence forth

And stood the door behind ;To go before the game was played

Be sure they h ad no mind .

But there within John N icholson

Turned him on Mehtab Singh,

So long as the soul is in my bodyYou shall not do this th ing .

Have ye s erved us fo r a hundred years

And yet ye know not why iWe brook no doub t o f our mastery

,

We rul e until we die .

Were I the one last Engl ishmanDrawing the breath of l ife

,

And you the master-reb el of all

That s tir this land to strife

Were I,

” he said,but a Corporal

,

And you a Raj put K ing,

So long as the soul was in my bodyYou should not do this thing .

A BALLAD OF J OH N N I CHOLSON 73

Take off,take off thos e shoes of pride

,

Carry them whence they came

Your Captains saw your insolenceAnd they shall s ee your shame .”

When Mehtab Singh came to the doorHis shoes they burned his hand

,

For there in long and silent l inesHe saw the Captains stand .

When Mehtab Singh rode from the gateHis chin was on his breast

The Captains said, When the s trong commandObedience is bee n

Tbe Guides at Cabul

(1 879)

ONS of the Island Race,wherever ye dwell

,

Who speak of your fa thers’ battle si

w ith l ips thatburn

,

The deed of an al ien legion hear me tell,

And think not shame from the hearts ye tamed to l earn ,When succour Shall fail and th e tide for a season turn

,

To fight with a joyful courage,a passionate pride,

To die at the las t as the Guides at Cabul died .

For a handful of seventy men in a barrack of mud,Foodless

,waterless

,dwindl ing one by one,

Answered a thous and yell ing for Engl ish blood

With stormy voll e ys that swe pt them gunner from gun,

And charge on charge in the glare of the Afghan sun,Till the walls were shattered wherein they crouched at

bay,

And dead or dying half o f the s eventy lay .

Twice they had taken the cannon that wrecked their hold,

Tw ic e toiled in vain to drag it back,Thrice they toiled

,and alone

,wary and bold

,

Whirling a hurricane sword to scat ter the rack,Hamil ton

,last of the English

,covered their track .

Nev e r give in he cried,and he heard them shout

,

And grappled with death as a man that knows no t doub t .

7 4

T HE GU I DES AT CABUL 75

And the Guides looked down from their smouldering

barrack again,

And behold,a banner of truce

,and a voice that spoke

Come,for we know that the English all are sla in

,

We keep ‘no feud w ith men of a kindred folk ;Rejoice with us to b e free of the conqueror ’s yoke .

Silence fell for a moment,then was heard

A sound of laughter and scorn,and an answering word .

Is it we or the lords we serve w h o have earned thiswrong

,

That ye call us to flin ch from the b attle they bade us

fight i

We that l ive— do ye doub t that our hands are strong

They that have fallen -

y e know that their blood was

brightThink ye the Guides will barter fo r lust of the light

The pride of an ancient people in warfare bred,

Honour of comrades l iving,and faith to the dead

Then the joy that spurs the warrior’s heartTo the las t thundering gallop and sheer leap

Came on the men of th e Guides they flung apartThe doors not all their valour could longer keep ;They dressed their slender l ine ; they breathed deep

,

And with never a foot lagging or head bent,

To the clash and clamour and dust of death they went .

Tbe Gay Gordon s

(DARGAI, OCTOBER 20TH,1 897)

HO’S for the Gathering,who’s for the Fair

(Gay goe s tbe Gordon to a figbt)The bravest of the brave are at dead-lock there

,

(Higblande rs marck by tbe rigbt l)There are bullet s by the hundred buzzing in the air ;There are bonny l ads lying on the hills ide bareBu t the Gordons know what the Gordons dare

When they hear the pipers playing

The happiest English heart to-day

(Gay goe s tbe Gordon to a figbt)Is the h eart of the Colonel

,hide it as he m ay.

(Ste ady tbe re .’ ste ady on tbc rigbt l)

He sees his work and he sees the way,

He knows his tirn e and the word to say,

And he’s thinking of th e tune that th e Gordons play

When he set s th e pipers playing !

Ris ing,roaring

,rushing l ike the tide

,

(Gay goe s tbc Gordon to a figbt)They’re up through the fire -zone

,not to b e denied ;

(Bayon e ts l and cbarge .’ by tbe rigbt !)

76

THE GAY GORDON S 77

Thirty bullets straight where the rest went wide,

And thirty lads are lying on th e b are hillside

But they passed in the hour of th e Gordons’ pride,

To the skirl of the pipers’ playing .

Tbe Toy Band2;

A SON G OF THE GREAT RETREAT

REARY lay the long road,dreary lay the town

,

Lights out and never a gl int O’ moon

Weary lay the straggl ers,half a thousand down

,

Sad s ighe d th e weary big Dragoon .

Oh ! if I ’d a drum here to make them take the roadagain

,

Oh if I’d a fife to wheedle,Come

,boys

,come !

You that mean to fight it out,wake and take your load

again,

Fall in ! Fall in ! Follow the fife and drum !

Hey,bu t here’s a toy shop

,here’s a drum for me

,

Penny whis tles too to play th e tuneHalf a thousand dead men soon Shall hear and s ee

We’re a band s aid th e weary big Dragoon .

Rubadub Rubadub Wake and take the ro ad

again,

Wheedl e—de e dle -d e e dle -dee,Come

,boys

,come !

You that mean to fight it out,wake and take your load

again,

Fall in ! Fall in ! Follow the fife and drum

73

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A Letter From t/ze Fron t

WAS out early to-day, spying about

From the top of a hays tack— such a lovely mornIng

And w hen I mounted again to canter back

I s aw across a field in the broad sunlight

A young gunner sub altern,stalking along

With a rook-rifl e held at the ready and— would you bel ieve it i

A domestic cat, soberly marching b ehind him .

So I l aughed,and fel t quite well—disposed to the young

ster,

And shouted out The top of the morning to him,

And wished him Good sport ! — and then I remem

bered

My rank, and his, and what I ought to b e doing ;And I rode nearer, and added , I can only suppos e

You have not s een the Commander-in-Chie f’s o rdersForb idding English officers to annoy their All ies

By hunting and shoo ting .

”

Bu t he stood and salu ted

And said earnestly,

I b e g your pardon, s ir,I was only going out to shoot a sparrow

To feed my cat with .

”

A LETTER FROM THE FRONT 8 1

SO there was the whole pictureThe lovely early morning

,the occasional shell

Screeching and scattering past us,the empty land

scapeEmpty

,except for the young gunner salut ing

And th e cat,anxiously watching his every movement .

I may b e wrong, and I may have told it badly,Bu t it s truck me as being extremely ludicrous .

He Fell Among Tbie ve s

E have robbed,

” s aid he,ye have slaughtered

and made an end,

Take your ill-got plunder,and bury the dead

What will ye more of you r guest and sometime friend i

Blood for our blood,

” they s aid .

He l aughed Ifone may Set tle the score for five,

I am ready ; bu t l e t the reckoning s tand till dayI have loved the sunlight as dearly as any alive .You shall die a t dawn

,

” s aid they .

He flung his empty revolver down the slope,

He climb ed alone to the E as tward edge .o i the trees ;All night long in a dream untroubled of hope

He brooded,clasping his knees .

He did not hear the monotonous ro ar that fills

The ravine where the Yassin riV e r sullenly flowsHe did not s ee the s tarlight on the Laspur hills

,

Or the far Afghan snows .

82

HE . FELL AMON G TH IEVE S 83

He saw the April noon on his books aglow,

The wistaria trailing in at th e window wide ;He heard his father’s voice from the terrace b e lowCalling him down to ride .

He saw the gray little church across the park,

The mounds that hide th e love d and honoured dead

The Norman arch,the chancel softly dark

,

The brasses bl ack and re d .

He saw the School Close,sunny and green

,

The runner beside him,th e Stand by th e parapet wall,

The d is tant tape,and the crowd roaring between

His own name over all .

He s aw the dark wainscot and timbered roof,

The long tables,and th e faces merry and keen ;

The College E ight and their trainer d in ing aloof,

The Dons on the dais serene .

He watched the l iner ’s stem ploughing the foam,

He felt her trembling speed and the thrash of

screwHe heard h e r passengers’ voices talking of home

,

He saw th e flag she flew .

And now it was dawn . He rose strong on his feet,

And strode to his ru ined camp below the woodHe drank th e breath of th e morning cool and sweetHis murderers round him stood

84 HE FELL AMONG TH IEVES

Light on the Laspur hills was broadening fast,

The blood-red snow—peaks chil led to a daz rling white

He turned,and saw the golden circl e at last

,

Cut by the E astern height .

O glorious Life,Who dwelles t in earth and sun

,

I have lived,I praise and adore Thee .”

A sword swept .Over the pass the voices one by one

Faded,and th e hill slept .

Ion icus

I l ive — I am o ld— I r e turn to th e groun dB low trumpe ts and sti l l I can dr e am to th e soun d.

WI LL IAM CORY.

ITH failing feet and shoulder s bowe dBeneath th e weight o f happier day s,

He lagged among the heedless crowd,

Or crept along su burban ways .Bu t St ill through all his heart was young

,

His mood a joy that nought could mar,A courage

,a pride

,a rapture

,sprung

Of th e strength and splendour of England ’s war .

From ill-requit e d toil he turnedTo rid e with Picton and with Pack

,

Am ong his grammars inly burned

To storm the Afghan mountain-track .

When midnight chimed,before ! uebec

He watched with Wol fe till the morning star ;At noon he saw from Victory

’s deck

The sweep and splendour of England’s war.8 5

86 IO N ICUS

Beyond the book his teaching sped,

He left on whom he taught the traceOf kinship with the d eathless dead

,

And faith in all the Island Race .He passed : his l ife a tangl e seemed

,

His age from fame and power was far ;But his heart was high to the e nd

,and dreamed

Of the sound and splendour of England’s war .

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T/z e Wa r Films

LIVING pictures of the dead,

0 songs without a sound,

0 fellowship whose phantom treadHallows a phantom ground

How in a gleam have these revealedThe faith we had no t found .

We have sought God in a cloudy Heaven,

We have passed by God on earth

His s even S ins and his sorrows seven,

His wayworn mood and mirth,

Like a ragged cloak have hid from us

The secret of his b ir th .

Brother of men,when now I see

The lads go for th in l ine,

Thou knowest my heart is hungry in m e

AS fo r thy b read and wine

Thou knowest my heart is bowed in me

To take their death for mine .

St . George’s D ay

YPREs,191 5

O fill th e gap,to bear the brunt

With bayonet and with spad e,

Four hund red to a four-mile frontUnbacked and undismayed

What men are these,of what gre at race

,

From what old shire or town,

That run with such goodw ill to faceD e ath on a Flemish down

L e t be I tbey bind a broke n lin e

As men die,so die tbey .

Land ofzbe fre e tbe ir life was tbin e,

I t is St. Ge orge’s Day.

Yet s ay whose ardour b ids them stand

At bay by yonder bank,Where a boy’s vo ice and a boy

’

s

Clos e up the quiver ing rank.

8 9

3T . GEORGE’S DAY

Who under thos e all—shattering skiesPlays out his capta in’s part

With the last darkness in his eyes

And Bamum in his heart i‘

L e t be,le t be in yonde r line

All name s are burn e d away .

Land ofbis love tbe fame be tbine,

I t is St. Ge orge’

s Day.

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Sacramen tum Supremum

E that with me have fought and fail ed and foughtTo the last d esperate trench of battle’s crest

,

Not yet to Sleep,not yet our work is nought

On that l ast t rench th e fate of all may rest .Draw near

,my friends and l et your thoughts b e high

Great hear ts are glad when it is t ime to give

Life is no l ife to him tha t dares no t die,

And death no death to him that d ares to l ive.

Draw near together ; none b e las t o r first

We are no longer names,bu t one des ire

With the s ame burning of the soul we thirst,And the s ame wine to-night shall quench our

Drink to ou r fathers who begot us men,

To the dead vo ices that are never dumb

Then to the land of all our loves,and then

To th e long par ting, and the age to come .

Gly‘ton Cbap e l

HIS is the Chapel here,my son

,

Your father thought th e thoughtsAnd heard the words that one by oneThe touch of Life has turned to truth .

Here in a day that is not far,You too may speak with noble ghosts

Of manhood and th e vows of war

You made before the Lord of Hosts .

TO s et the cause above renown,

To love the game beyond the prize,

To honour,while you strike him dow n

,

The foe that comes with fe arle ss eyesTo count the l ife o f battle good

,

And dear the land that gave you bir th,

And dearer yet th e brotherhoodThat binds th e brave of all th e earth

My son, th e oath is yours : th e endIs His

,Who buil t th e world of S trife,

Who gave His children Pain for friend,

And D e ath for sure st hope o f l ife .

93

94 CLIFTON CHAPEL

TO-day and here the figh t’s begun

,

Of the great fellowship you’re free

Hencefor th th e School and you are one,

And what You are, th e race shall b e .

God send you fortune : yet b e sure,

Among the l ights that gl eam and pass,

You ’ll l ive to follow none more pure

Than that which glows on yonder brass .

!u i procu l binc,” the l egend ’s writ

,

The frontier-grave is far away

! u i ante diem p e riit

Se d mile s, se d pro patria .

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V ITAYLAMPADA

This they all with a joyful mindBear through life like a torch in flame

,

And fall ing fl ing to the host b ehindPlay up ! play up ! and play th e game

Tbe Viga

NOLAND ! where the s acred flame

Burns before the inmost shrine,Wh e re th e l ips that love thy name

Co nsecrate the ir hopes and thine,Where th e bann e rs o f th y d eadWeave their shadows overhead

,

Watch bes ide thine arms to-night,Pray that God defend the Right.

Think that when to-morrow comesWar shall claim command of all,

Thou must he ar the roll of drums,Thou must hear th e trumpet’s call .

Now before they s ilence ruth,

Commune with the Voice o f truthEngland ! on thy kn e e s tO-nightPray that God defend the Right .

Hast thou counted up the cost,Wh at to foeman

,what to frie nd

Glory sought is Honour lost,

How should this b e knighthood’s97

THE VIG I L

Know’st thou what is Hatred’s meed 3

What the su res t ga in of Greed i ~

Engl and wil t thou dare to-nightPray that God defend the Right P

Singl e-hearted,unafraid

,

Hither all thy heroes came,

On this altar’s s teps were laidGordon’s l ife and Ou tram ’

s fam e .

England if thy will b e yet

By their great example set,

Here bes ide thin e arms to-night

Pray that God defend the Right .

So shal t thou when morning comesRis e to conquer o r to fall

,

Joyful hear th e roll ing drums,Joyful hear the trumpet s call .

Then le t Memory tell thy heart ;England

! wbat tbou we rt,tbou art !

Gird thee with thine ancient might,

Forth ! and God defend the Right !

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Tbe Sailing of tbe Long— sk ip s

(OCTOBER, 1 899)

HEY saw the cabl es loosened,they s aw the gang

ways cleared,

They heard th e women weep ing,they heard the m e n

that cheered

Far Off,far off

,the tumul t faded and d ied away

,

And all alone the s ea-wind came s inging up the Bay.

I came by Cape St . Vincent, I came by Trafalgar,I swept from Torres Ve dras to golden Vigo Bar,I s aw the beacons blazing that fired the world with ligh tWhen down their anc ient highway your fathers pass e d

to fight .

0 rac e

'

of t ireless fighters,flushed with a you th re

newed,Right well the wars of Freedom b e fit the Sea-kings’

broodYet as ye go forget not the fame of yond er shore,The fame ye owe your fathers and th e o ld t ime b efore .

T HE SA I L I N G OF T HE LON G—SH IPS [ OI

Long-suffering were the Sea-kings,th e y were no t

swift to kill,

But when th e s ands h ad fall en they waited no man’s

willThough all the world forbade them

,they counted not

no r cared,

They weighed not help or hindrance,th ey d id th e thing

they dare d .

! The Se a-kings love d not boast ing,they cursed not

him that cursed,

They honoured all men duly,and him that faced them

,

firstTh e v s trove and knew not hatred, they smote and

toiled to s ave,

Th e y tended whom they vanquished,they praised the

fall en brave .

Their fame’s on Torres Vedras,their fame’s on Vigo

Bar,

Far-flash e d to Cape St . Vincent it burns from Trafalgar

Mark as ye go th e beacons that woke the world with

l ightWhen down their ancient highway your fathers passed

to fight .

”

Waggon Hill

RAKE in the North Sea grimly prowl ing,

Treading his d ear Reve nge’s deck

,

Watched,with the s ea-dogs round him growl ing

,

Galleons drifting wreck by wreck .

Fetter and Faith for England’s neck,

Faggot and Father,Saint and chain

,

Yonder the Devil and all go howling,

Devon,0 Devon

,in wind and rain

Drake at the las t OffNomb re lying,

Knowing the night that toward him crept,

Gave to the s ea-dogs round him cryingThis for a s ign b e fore he slept

Pride o f the West What Devon hath keptDevon shall keep on t ide or main

Call to the storm and drive them flying,

Devon,O Devon

,in wind and rain !

Valour of England gaunt and whitening,

Far in a South land brought to bay,1 02

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T/z e Volunteer

E l eap t to arms unbidden,

Unneeded,over-bold;

His face by ear th is hidden,His hear t in earth is cold .

Curse on the reckless d ar ing

That could not wait the call,

The proud fant a stic bear ing

That would b e fir s t to fall !

O tears of human pass ion,

Blur no t the image true ;This was no t folly’s fashion

,

This was the man we knew .

Tbe OnlyI Son

B ITTER wind toward the sunset blowing

What of the dales to-night

In yonder gray Old hall what fires are glowing,

What ring of fes tal l ight

I n tbe gre at window as zbe day was dwindling

I saw an old man stand

His be ad was proudly be ld and bis eye s kindling,

But tbc list sbook in bis band.

0 wind of twilight,was there no word ut tered

,

NO sound o f joy or wail I! A gre at figbt and a good de atb,

’ be m utte re d

Trust bim,be would not fail .’

What of the chamber dark where she was lyingFor whom all l ife is done i‘

Witbin be r be art sbe rocks a de ad cbilcl,crying

M y son, my little son .

’

Tbe Grenadier’s Good-By e

Whe n L i e ute nan t Murray fe l l , th e on ly words h e spok e we re ,Forward, Gr e nadi e rs I -Press T e le gram.

ERE they halted,here once more

Hand from hand was rent ;Here his voice above the roar

Rang,and on they went .

Yonder out of s ight they crossed,

Yonder d ied the cheers

One word l ives where all is lostForward

,Grenadier s

This alone he asked Offame,

This alone of pride ;Still with this he faced the flame

,

Answered Death,and died .

Crest of battl e sunward tossed,

Song of the mar ch ing years,

This shall l ive though all be lost

Forward,Grenadiers

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On Sp ion Kop

OREMOST of all on batt l e’s fiery steepHere VERTUE fell

,and here he sleeps his

A fairer name no Roman ever gave

To stand sole monument on Valour’s grave .

Major N . H . Ve rtue ,of th e Buffs

,Brigade -Major to Ge ne ral

Woodgate , was bur i e d wh e r e h e fe l l, on th e e dge of Spion Kop , infront of th e Br itish position .

Tbe Scbool at Wa r

LL night before the brink o f deathIn fitfu l sleep the army lay

,

For through th e dream that s t ill ed their brea th

Too gauntly glared the coming day .

Bu t we,within whos e blood there leaps

The fulness of a l ife as wide

As Avon’s water where he swe e ps

Seaward at l as t with Severn’s t ide,

We heard beyond th e des er t nightThe murmur of the fields we knew

,

And our swift souls with one del ight

Like homing swallows Northward flew .

We played again th e immortal games,

And grappled with the fierce Old frie nds,

And cheered th e dead undying names,

And s ang th e song that n e ve r end s

Till,when th e hard

,famil iar bell

Told that th e summer night was late,

Wh e re long ago we said farewellWe said farewell by th e old gate .

1 09

I I O THE S CHOO L AT WAR

O Captains unforgot,

” they cried,Come you again or come no more,

Across the world you keep the pride,

Across the world we mark the s core .

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P eace

(1902)

0 more to watch by Night’s eternal Shore

,

With England’s chivalry at dawn to r ideNo more d efeat

,faith

,victory— O ! no more

A cause on earth for which w e might have died .

April on Waggon Hill

AD,and can you rest now

,

There beneath your hill 3

Your hands are on your breas t now,

Bu t is your heart so st ill’Twas the right death to die

,lad

,

A gift without regret,

But unless truth’s a l ie,l ad

,

You dream of Devon yet .

Ay, ay, the year’s awaking

,

The fire’s among th e l ing,

Th e b e e ch e n hedge is breaking,

The curlew’s on the wing ;Primroses are out

,lad

,

On the high banks of Lee,

And the sun st ir s the trout, lad,From Brendon to the se a.

I k now what’s in your heart,lad

,

The mare he used to hu nt

And her b lu e market-cart,lad

,

With pos ies t ied in front

1 1 3

1 14 APR I L O N WAGGON H I LL

We miss them from the moor road,

They’re getting o ld to roam,

The road they’re on’s a su re road

And nearer,l ad

,to home .

Your name,the name they cherish

’Twill fade,lad

,

’tis tru e

But s tone and all m ay perish

With l ittl e loss to you .

While fame’s fame you’re Devon,l ad

,

Th e Glo ry o f th e West ;Till th e roll’s called in heaven , l ad,You may well take your res t .

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1 16 THE FOURTH OF AUGUST

Far acros s to fayland,Far acros s to fayland,Far acros s to faylandThe suns et shadows creep .

All in one grea t shadow,

All in one grea t shadow,

Al l in one grea t shadow

The midnight shadows sleep .

[As ibey sing Au rora passe s on and disapp e ars.][Ente r a M ortal T ou tb

,de licate ly dre sse d : be

stre tcbe s bimse lfon a gre e n bank langu idly, and

muse s .]

How I love l ife how fa ir and full i t gl idesIn this dear l and

,where age-long peace ab ides

This l and o f Nature’s finest fashioning,

Where every month brings forth some lovely thing

Where Spring goes l ike her s treams,from March to June

,

Dancing and gl ittering to th e b re e ze ’s tune ;And Summer

,l ike the ros e in suns et Skies

,

From splendour into splendou r so ftly d ies

Where Autumn,whil e she s ings her harves t home

,

Deep in her bosom hides the b ir th to com e,

And Winter d reams,when th e long nights are cold

,

A dr eam of snowdrops and the b lea ting fold .

Ah how I love it — most o f all the yea r

This perfect month when Summer’s end is n e ar .

Fo r now July has s e t,and Augus t dawns

,

A stillness broods upon the y ellowing lawns ,

T HE FOURTH OF AUGUST

Now senses all a re by enchantment laid

In go lden sleep beneath a green-gold shade ,Unt il th e hour when twilight ’s tender gloom

Is s t arred with flowers o f magic faint perfum e .

Now pass ions are fo rgot,now memory wakes

And out o f o ld del ight new vis ion mak e s,

1 1 7

While Time moves only where the rose- leaves fall,

And Death’s a shad e that never moves at all .

[H e muse s on in sile nce .]

SONG OF THE FLOWER-SPIRITS

Winter’s over and Summer’s here

Dan ce ove r tbe fairy ring

Winter’s over and Summer’s here,

And ibe gay birds sing

Roses flo u rish and ros es fallDance ove r tbe fa iry r ing

L il ies are white and lupins tall,

And tbc gay birds sing

What Shall we do when Summer ’s d ead

Wind ove r tbe fairy ring

Then you must sleep in Winter’s b e d,

And no birds sing

Wha t shall we do when Winter’s done IWind ove r tbc fairy ring

Then you must wake and greet the sun,

And tbc gay birds sing

1 1 8 THE FOURTH OF AUGU ST

Winter’s over and Summer’s hereDance ove r tbe fa iry r ing

Now comes in the sweet 0 ’ the yea r,

And tbe gay birds sing

[Ente r a Ve ile d Figu re , wbo stands ove r aga inst

drowsing T ou tb and sp e aks .]

Seek no t to l ift m y veil, ask no t m y name .I have no name— I am the Spirit’s breath

,

The soul’s own b lood,the s ecre t spring of l ife .

O Child OfE arth and Sky,l ighten thine eyes

,

See What thou art in t ruth— no fading flower,

NO b eas t o f prey,no dus t enjoying dus t

,

NO fluttering thing fo r mere s alvation wild,

NO pass ing shadow on the dial o f Time

What,then I Look in th y hear t what l ife hast

thou

That dust and shadows lack,what l ife beyond

The l ife o f flower o r b eas t Have thes e the power

To l ive fo r something greater,to res ign

Even in the sunl it moment o f their s trengthTheir s eparate being i

I am that which b ids thee

Die and outl ive thys elf : I am the Vo ice

That all thy heroes heard . When the ir long to il

Bowed down their burning shoulders,when they buil t

Thy peace with their despair,when b it t er s eas

Rolled over them,when battle broke their hearts

This was their l ife in death— then,then they heard

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I ZO T HE FOURTH OF AUGUST

Sunl it above you leaves are cool,

Sunl i t bes ide you gl eams the pool,

Sunl it and slumb erous Summer goes by

And we will s ing your lu ll aby .

[Tbey sink down upon tbc grass tbc stilln e ss ofzbe

garde n be com e s on e witb tbe T out/9’s dre am .

Ente r,as in a vision oftbat dre am ,

a M otbe r and

be r two Boys tbe Boys se e tbe Fays and run

towards tbem,bu t are staye d by a sudde n tbrob

ofguns .

Ente r from be bind tbc Ve ile d Figu re a Boy witb a

Drum : be marcbe s up to tbe twoM ortal Cbilclre n,

tou cbe s tbem on tbe bre ast and signs to tbem to

follow bim . Tbc M otbe r darts forward and

lays be r arms around tbem,sp e aking to tbe Boy

witb tbc Drum,in gre at alarm .]

MOTHER . Why do you call them I

BOY . They must come with me .MOTHER . Is it fo r l ife o r death IBOY. I c anno t tell

I never heard o f Death .

MOTHER . Who b ade you call them IBOY . A woman with a veil— she s tands there waiting .

MOTHER . I s ee her now— her veil is clo s e as night,

But her face shines b enea th it,l ike the fire

O f the firs t s tar that mounts his guard in heaven.

I s ee her l ift ed hand,I hear her vo ice

Like thunder ro ll ing among dis tant hillsIns tant

,tremendous

,irres is tible

,

T HE FOURTH OF AUGUST I Z I

Soul-shaking,world-destroyingO my children

The end of our sweet l ife— the end is come

[Sbe bows be r be ad ove r tbe Cbildre n,clasp ing tbem

tigbtly . A fune ral marcb is be ard : tbe Boy

be ats bis drum to it and tu rns to go tbe motbe r

liste ns in agony, still bolding back be r cbildre n .

Tbe fu ne ral marcb cbange s to a bigb triumpbant

moveme nt : sbe rise s,and afte r a mome nt op e ns

be r arms . Tbe Cbildre n kiss be r and marcb

joyfu lly away sbe lifts be r be ad witb zbe sam e

prou d ge stu re as tbe irs,and follows tbem slowly

and at a distan ce .]

MOTHER . Fare w e ll,m y sons !Th e w o rld is changed fo r m e

But this too you have don e -your joy has fannedMy smouldering altar-fire s, your prid e has burned

To flame and fragrance all my balm o f earthChild memories

,high-bu ilt hop e s

,comfort o f love

,

Yea even the touch,the S ight and hearing o f you

Al l’s lost,all’s won : the gift is perfected

[Sbe goe s ou t.][Tbe T ou tb starts up and sp e aks.]

How long have I b een sl eeping I Now this place

Is changed,as though after a hundred years

That which lay bound by some ignob le spellHad heard a s ilver trump e t, l eapt afoot,And marched with tramp o f thousands to the fight .Surely I heard that call— surely it came

Ringing with countless echoes of old warsWith tender pity, red indignant wrath,

1 2 2 THE FOURTH OF AUGUST

White cold resolve and hatred o f the beast,

Courage that knows not fear,courage that knows

And knowing dares a hundred d eaths in one,

Freedom that l ives by s ervice, kindlines s

That even in anger keeps men’s b rotherhood,

And love o f country,that high pass ionate pride

In the Old vis ions o f a generous race,

Not yet fulfilled,bu t never y e t forsaken

Ay thes e I heard,and all my b lood rememb ers

That so m y fathers heard them .

Oh I had seen

My garden with dull eyes that which was min eThe b es t o f my inheritance— the s ight

O f thos e immortal ghost s whos e l iv ing gloryFor ever haunts the home o f their renown

I had los t it t ill this moment

Now I wake

I know what I have loved,I s ee aga in

Beneath the beauty of l ife perishing

That which transfigu re s, that which makes the world

O f l ife enduring .

I f there mus t be d eath

Let it be mine If there mus t be defeatLet it be m ine

,my Country

,and no t thine

Let it b e mine I hear a vo ice within me

All’s los t , a ll’s won — the gift is perfected

[He marcbe s away proudly, to ibe same music .][Tbe Fays dance aga in sile ntly tbe sun se ts

,and

ibey sink to sle e p . Tbc Ve ile d Figu re move s

forward again , and stands motion le ss wbe re tbe

Youtb bad lain dre am ing . Tbe Curtain falls.]

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I 24 A BALLAD OF S I R PERTAB S I N GH

When morning came,in narrow chest

The sold ier’s face they h id,

And over his fas t-d ream ing e yes

Shu t down the narrow l id .

Three were there o f his race and creed,

Three only and no mo re

They could no t find to b ear the dead

A fourth in all Jodh po re .

O Maharaj,o f you r good grace

Send us a Sweeper here

A Sw eeper has no cas t e to lose

Even by an al ien b ier .”

What need,what need I s aid Pe rtab Singh,

And bowed his princely head .

I have no cas te,fo r I mys elf

Am b earing forth the dead .

0 Maharaj,O pass ionate heart

,

Be wis e,bethink you yet

That which you los e to—day is lo s t

Til l the las t sun shal l s et .”

God only knows,s a id Pe rtab Singh

,

That which I lose to-dayAnd without me no hand of man

Shall h e ar my friend away.

”

A BALLAD OF S IR PERTAB S I N GH 1 25

Stately and slow and shoulder-high

In the s ight o f all Jodh po re

The d ead went down the ros e—red stepsUpheld by bearers fou r .

When dawn rel it the lamp of grief

Within th e burning E as tTh e re came a word to Pe rtab Singh

,

The soft word o f a p ries t .

He woke,and even as he woke

He went fo rth all in white,

And s aw t h e Brahmins bowing thereIn th e hard morning light .

Alas O Maharaj,alas

O nobl e Pe rtab Singh

For here in Jodh p o re yesterdayBefell a fearful thing .

0 here in Jodh po re yesterdayA fe arful thing befell .”

A fearful thing,s aid Pe rtab Singh

,

God and my heart know well

I los t a friend .

Mo re fearful ye tWhen down these steps you pas t

In s ight o f all Jodh po re you los t0 Maharaj — your cas te .”

1 26 A BALLAD OF S IR P ERTAB S I N GH

Then leap t the l ight in Pe rtab’

s eyes

As the flame leaps in smoke,

Thou pries t th y soul hath never known

The word thy l ips have spoke .

My cas te Know thou there is a caste

Above my cast e or th ine,

Brahmin and Raj pu t are bu t dus t

To that immortal l ine

Wide as the world,free as th e air

,

Pure as the pool o f d eath

The cas te o f all E arth’s nobl e hearts

Is th e right sold ier’s faith .

”

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1 28 C OMMEMORATION

0 Youth ,” the preacher was crying

,deem not thou

Thy l ife is thine alone ;Thou beares t the will o f the ages

,s ee ing how

They bu il t thee bone by bone,

And within thy blood the Great Age sleeps Sepu lchredTill thou and thine shall roll away the stone .

Therefore the days are coming when thou Shalf bu rnWith pass ion whitely hot ;

Res t shall b e res t no more th y feet shall spurnA11 that thy hand hath got ;

And One that is S tronger shall gird thee,and l ead thee

swiftlyWhither

,0 heart o f Youth

,thou wouldest not .

And the School pass ed and I s aw the l iving and dead

Set in the ir s eat s again,

And I longed to hear them speak o f the word that was

s aid,

But I knew that I longed in va in .

And they stretched forth their hands,and the wind of

th e spirit took them

Lightly as drifted l eaves on an endles s plain .

Tbe E cbo

OF A

'

BALLAD SUN G BY H . PLUNKET GREENET o H I S O LD SCHOO L

WICE three hundred boys were we,

Long ago, long ago,

Where th e Downs look ou t to the Severn Sea .Clifton for aye

We held by th e gam e and hailed the t eam ,

For many could play whe re few could dream .

City ofSong sball stand alway.

Some were for profi t and some fo r pride,

Long ago, long ago,

Some for th e flag they l ived and d ied .

Clifton for aye

The work o f the world must st ill b e done,And minds are many though truth b e on e .

City ofSong sball stand alway.

But a lad there was to his fellows s ang,

Long ago, long ago,

And soon the world to his mus ic rang .

Cl ifton for aye !

I 30 THE ECH O

Follow your Capta ins,crown your K ings

,

But what will ye give to th e lad that s ings ICity ofSong sball stand alway .

For the vo ice ye hear is the voice o f home,

Long ago, long ago,

And the vo ice o f You th with the world to roam .

Clifton for aye !

The voice o f pass ion and human tears,

And the vo ice o f the vis ion that l ight s the years .City ofSong sba ll stand alway .

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132 THE BEST SCHOO L OF ALL

And where’s the wealth,I

’m wondering

,

Could bu y the cheers tha t roll

When the l as t charge go es thundering

Beneath the twil ight go al I

The men that t anned the hide o fOur daily fo es and frie nds

,

They shall no t los e their pride o f

Howe’er the j ourney e nd s .

Their vo ic e,to us who s ing o f it

,

No more it s mess age bears,

But the round world shall r ing of

And all we are b e theirs .

To speak o f Fame a venture is,

There’s l it tle here c an b ide,

But we may face the centu ries,

And da t e the d eepening t ide

For though th e dust that’s part of u sTo dus t again b e gone

,

Yet here shall b eat th e heart o f u s

The School we handed on

We’ll bonour ye t tbe Scbool we kn ew,

Tbe be st Scbool ofall

We’ll bonou r ye t ibe ru le we knew

,

Till tbe last be ll ca ll .

For,working days or bolidays,

And glad or me lancboly days,

Tbe y w e re gre at days and jolly days

At tbc be st Scbool ofall .

England

RAI SE thou with praise unending

The Mas te r o f the Wine

To all their port ions s end ing

Himsel f he mingled thine

The s ea—born flush Ofmorning,

The s ea-born hush o f night,

The Eas t wind comfort s corning,

And the North wind driving right

The world for gain and giving,

The game for man and boy,

The life that joys in l iving,

The faith that l ives in joy .

(JUN E 2 I ST,1 897

1

)

THOUSAND years by s ea and land

Our race hath served th e island kings,

But no t by custom’s dull command

TO-day with song her Empire rings

Not all the glories o f her birth,

Her armed renown and ancient throne,

Could make her les s the child o f earth

Or give her hopes b eyond our own

But s tayed on faith more S ternly proved

And pride than ours more pure and d eep,

She loves th e l and ou r fathers loved

And keeps the fame ou r sons shall keep .

1 The s e l ine s , with music by Dr . L loyd,forme d part of th e Cycle

ofS ong offe r e d to ! ue e n V ictoria, of bl e sse d and glorious m e mory,in ce l e bration of h e r s e cond Jubile e .

134

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1 36 THE K I N G OF EN GLAND

Full o f a s t rength unb roken showed h is faceAnd his brow calm with youth’s unclouded dawn

,

But round his l ips were l ines o f tenderer grace

Su ch as no hand bu t Time’s hath ever drawn .

Surely he knew his glory had no part

In dull decay,nor unto Death must bend

,

Yet surely too o f l engthening shadows dreamed

With sunse t in his heart,

SO brief his b eauty now,so near the end

,

And now so Old and so immortal seemed .

0 K ing among the l iving, these shall hail

Sons o f thy dus t that shall inherit thee

0 King o f men tha t d ie,though we must fa il

Th y l ife is b reathed from th V t riumphant S e a .

O man that s erves t men by r ight o f b ir th,Our hearts’ content thy heart shall also keep

,

Thou too with us shal t one day l ay thee down

In ou r dear nat ive earth,

Fu ll su re the K ing o f England,whil e we sleep

,

For ever rides abro ad through London town .

Tbc N ile

UT of the unknown South,

Through th e dark land s o f d routh,

Far wanders ancient N il e in s lumber gl id ing

Cl ear-mirrored in his dream

The d eed s that haunt his S treamFlash out and fade l ike s tars in midnight sl id ing .

Long s ince,before th e l ife o f man

Rose from among the l ives that creep,

With Time’s own t ide began

That s till mysterious sleep,

Only to ceas e when Time shall reach the eternal deep .

From out his vis ion vas t

The early gods have pass ed,

They waned and perished with the faith that mad ethem

The long phantasmal l ine

Of Pharaohs crowned d ivine

Are dust among the dust that once ob eyed them .

Their l and is one mute burial mound,

Save when acros s the drifted years

Some chant o f hollow sound,

Some triumph bl e nt with tears,

From Memnon’s l ips at d awn wakens th e des ert meres.

I S7

1 38 THE N I LE

O N ile,and can it b e

NO memory dwells with thee

Of Grecian lo re and th e swee t Grecian s inger IThe legions ’ iron tramp

,

The Goths ’ wide-wandering camp,

Had thes e no fame that by thy sho re might l inger INay

,then mus t all b e lo s t indeed

,

Los t too the swift pursu ing might

That cleft with pass ionate speed

Aboukir’s tranqu il night,

And shattered in mid-swoop the grea t world-eagle’

s

flight .

Yet have there been on earth

Spirits o f s tarry b irth,

Whose splendour rushed to no eternal s et ting

They over all endure,

Their cours e through all is su re,The d ark world ’s l ight is s t ill o f the ir begetting .

Though th e long pas t forgotten l ies,

N il e in th y dream rememb er him ,

Whose l ike no more shall ris e

Above ou r twilight ’s rim,

Until the immortal dawn shall make all glories d im .

For this man was no t grea t

By gold or kingly s tat e,

Or th e bright sword,o r knowl edge o f earth

’s wonder

But more than all his race

He saw l ife face to fac e,

And heard th e s t ill small vo ice above the thunder .

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Srabm a ndc’

tz i

EEP embowered bes id e the fores t river,

Where the flame of suns et only fall s,

Lapped in S il ence l ies the Hous e o f Dying,

Hous e o f them to whom the twilight calls .

There within when day was near to end ing,

By her lo rd a woman young and s trong,

By his chief a songman Old and stricken

Watched together t ill th e hou r o f song .

0 my songman,now the bow is b roken

,

Now the arrows one by one are sped ,S ing to me the song o f Sré hm andaz i

,

Srahm andaz i,home o f all the dead .

Then the songman,flinging wide his songn e t,

On the las t token l aid his mas ter’s hand,

Wh ile he s ang the song o f Srahm andé z i,

None bu t dying men can understand .

Yonder sun that fierce and fie ry-hearted

Marches down the s ky to vanish soon,

At the sel f-s ame hour in Srahm andé z i

Ris es pall id l ike the ra iny moon .

1 40

SRAHMANDAZI 1 4 1

There he sees th e heroes by their river,Where the great fish daily upward swim

Ye t they are bu t shadows hunt ing shadows,Phantom fish in waters drear and dim .

There he sees the kings among their headmen,Women weaving

,children playing gam e s

Ye t they are bu t shadows rul ing shadows ,Phantom folk with dim forgotten names .

Bid farewell to all that most thou loves t,

Tell th y heart thy l iving l ife is doneAll the days and deeds o f Srahm andaz i

Are not worth an hour o f yonder sun .

Dreamily th e chief from out the songn e t

Drew his hand and touched the w oman’s head

Know they no t,then

,love in Srahm andaz i I

Has a king no bride among th e dead I

Then the songman answered,O my master

,

Love they know,bu t none may learn it there

Only souls that reach tha t l and togeth e r

Keep their t ro th and find th e twiligh t fair .

Thou art st ill a king,and a t th y pass ing

By thy lates t word must all ab id eI f thou willest

,here am I

,th y songman

If thou loves t,here is she

,thy bride .

142 SRAHMANDAZ I

Hushed and dreamy lay the House o f Dying,

Dreamily the sunl ight upward failed,

Dreamily the chie f on eyes tha t loved himLooked with eyes the com ing tw ilight veiled .

Then he cried,My songman , I am passing ;

Let her l ive,her l ife is bu t begun

All th e days and nights o f Srahm andé z i

Are no t worth an hou r o f yonder sun .

Ye t,when there within th e House o f Dying

The l as t s il ence held th e sunse t air,

No t alone he c ame to Srahm andaz i,

No t alone sh e found the tw il ight fair

While the songman,fa r benea th the fo res t

Sang o f Srahm andaz i all night through,

Lovely b e thy name,O Land o f shadows

,

Land o f meet ing,Land of all the true

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Hope tbe Hornblower

ARK ye,hark to the wind ing horn

Sluggard s,awake

,and front the

Hark ye,hark to the wind ing horn

The sun ’s on meadow and mill .Follow me

,hearts that love the chase

Follow me,fee t that keep the pace

Stirrup to s t irrup we ride,we rid e

,

We ride by moo r and hill .”

Huntsman,huntsman

,whither away

What is the qu arry afoo t to—day IHuntsman

,huntsman

,whither away

,

And what th e game ye kill I

Is i t the deer, that men may d ine I

IS i t the wolf that tears the kine I

What is the race ye rid e,ye ride

,

Ye ride by moor and h ill I

Ask not yet t ill the day be dead

What is the game that’s forward fled,

Ask not y e t t ill th e day b e dead

The game we follow St ill .

1 44

HOPE THE HORNBLOWER

An echo it may b e,floating past

A shadow it may b e,fad ing fas t

Shadow o r ech o,we rid e

,we ride

,

We ride by moor and hill .”

O Pu lcbr itudo

SAINT whose thous and shrines our fee t have trod

And ou r eyes loved thy lamp’s eternal b eam,

Dim earthly rad iance o f the Unknown God

Hope o f the darkn e s s,l ight o f them that dream

,

Far Off,far OE and fa int

,O gl immer on

Till we thy p ilgrims from the ro ad are gone .

0 Word whose meaning every s ens e hath sought,Vo ice o f the t eeming field and grassy mound

,

Deep-w hispering fountain o f the wells o f thought,

Will o f th e wind and soul o fall sweet sound,

Far off,far o ff and fa in t

,O murmur on

Till we thy pilgrims from the road are gone .

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148 THE FI NAL MYSTERY

Lord,though I l ived on earth

,th e child o f earth

,

Yet was I fa thered by the s tarry sky

Thou knowest I cam e not o f the shadows’ birth,

Let me no t d ie the death that shadows die .

Give m e to drink o f the sweet spr ing that l eaps

From Memory’s fount

,Where in no cypres s sleeps .

Then shal t thou drink,0 Soul

,and therewith slake

The immortal longing of thy mortal thirs t

So Ofthy Father’s l ife shal t thou partake,

And b e fo r ever that thou wert a t firs t .

Los t in rememb ered loves,yet thou more thou

With them shal t reign in never—ending Now .

I l Santo

LAS alas what impious hand s are thes e I

They have cu t down my dark mysterious

De fie d the brood ing spellThat s ealed my sacred well

,

Broken my fathers ’ fixed and ancient b ars ,And on the mouldering shadeWherein my dead were laid

Let in the cold cl ear aspect o f the stars .

Slumber hath held the grove for years untold

Is there no reverence fo r a peace so o ld IIs there no seemly aweFor bronze-engraven law

,

For dus t b e atifie d and sa intly name IWhen they shall s ee the shrinePrinces have held divine

,

Will they no t how before th e e ternal flame

Vain vain th e wind of heaven for ages long

Hath whispered manhood,L e t thine arm b e strong

Hew down and fl ing away

The growth tha t veils decay,149

1 50 I L SANTO

Shatter the shrine that chokes the l iving spring .

Scorn hatred,s corn regre t

,

Dig deep and d eepe r yet,

Leave no t the ques t fo r word o f s a int o r k ing .

Dig deeper yet though the world brand thee

The faithful l abou r o f an impious brow

May fo r thy race redeem

The source o f that lo s t s t ream

Once given the thirs t o f all the earth to s lake .Nay

,thou too ere the e nd

Thy weary knee m ays t b end

And in thy trembl ing hands that water take .

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From Generation to Genera t ion

SON o f m ine,when dusk shal l find thee bending

Between a gravestone and a cradle’s head

Between the love whos e name is loss unend ing

And the young love whos e thoughts are l iker dread,

Thou too shalt gro an at heart that all thy spending

Cannot repay the dead, the hungry dead .

Wbe n I Remember

HEN I remember that the day will come

For this our love to quit his land of b irth,

And bid farewell to all the ways of earth

With l ips that mus t for evermore be dumb,

Then creep I s il ent from the st irr ing hum,

And shut away the music and the mirth,

And reckon up what may be l eft o f worth

When heart s are cold and love’s own body numb .

Something there mus t b e that I know not here,

Or know too dimly through the symbol dear

Some touch,some beauty

,only guessed by this

I f He that made us loves,i t shall replace

,

Beloved,even the vis ion o f thy face

And deep communion of thine inmos t kiss.

Mor s jan ua

ILGRIM,no shrine is here

,no prison

,no

Thy fea r and thy bel ief al ike are fond

Death is a gate,and holds no room within

Pass— to the ro ad beyond .

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Rondel

ONG ago to thee I gave

Body,soul

,and all I have

Nothing in the world I keep

Al l that in return I crave

Is that thou accept the S l ave

Long ago to thee I gaveBody

,soul

,and all I have .

Had I more to share o r s ave,

I wou ld give as give the brave,

Stooping no t to part the heap

Long ago to thee I gave

Body,soul

,and all I have

Nothing in the world I keep .

Balade

CANNOT tell,of twain b eneath this bond

,

Which one in grief the other goes beyond,

Narcissus,who to e nd the pain he bore

Died o f the love that could no t help him moreOr I

,that pine because I c anno t s e e

The lady who is queen and love to me .

Nay— fo r Narcissus,in the fo res t pond

Seeing his image,made entrea ty fond

,

Belo ved,comfort on my longing pour

So fo r a whil e he soo thed his pass ion sore

So cannot I,fo r all too far is she

The lady who is queen and love to me .

But s ince that I have Love’s tru e colours donned,

I in his s ervice will no t now d espond,

For in extremes Love yet can all restore

SO t ill her beauty walks the world no moreAll day remembered in my hope shall b eThe lady who is queen and love to me .

Tbe La s t Word

EFORE the April night was late

A rider came to the cas tle gate

A rider breathing human breath,

But the words he spoke were the words Death .

Greet you well from the K ing ou r lo rd,

He marches hot fo r the eas tward ford

Living o r dying,all o r one

,

Ye must keep the ford t ill the race b e run .

S ir Ala in ros e with l ips that smiled,

He kissed his wife,he kissed his child

Before the April night was late

Sir Alain rode from the cas tle gate .

He call ed his men-at-arms by name,But one there was uncalled that came

He bade his troop behind him ride,

But there was one that rode b es id e .

Wby will you spu r so fast to die PBe wise r e re tbe n igbt go by.

A m e ssage late is a m e ssage lost

For all your baste tbc foe bad crosse d.

1 5 8

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160 THE LAST WORD

He set his face to the s tream below,

He drew his axe from the s addle bow

Farewell,Mess ire

,the night is sped

There l ies the ford,when all is s a id .

Tbe Viking’s Song

HEN I thy lover firs t

Shook out my canvas

And l ike a pirat e burs t

Into that d reaming sea,

The land knew no such thirs t

AS then tormented me .

Now when at eve returnedI near that shore d ivine

,

Where once bu t watch—fire s burned

I s ee thy beacon shine,

And know the land hath learned

Desire that welcomes m ine .

Tbe Sufi in tbc City

HEN l at e I watched the arrows of the sleet

Agains t the windows of the Tavern b ea t,

I heard a Rose that murmured from her Po t

Wh y t rudge th y fellows yonder in the Street I

Befo re the phantom of Fals e Morning d ies,

Choked in the b itter Net that b inds the skies,

Their feet,b emired with Yesterday

,s et out

For the dark all eys where TO-morrow l ies .

Think you,when all their petals they have bruised

,

And all the fragrances o f Life confused,

That N ight with sweeter res t will comfort these

Than u s,who still within the Garden mused I

1 62

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To Edward Fit z gera ld

(MARCH 3I ST, 1909)

I S a sad fat e

To watch the world fighting,

All that is mos t fa ir

Ruthles sly bl ighting,

Blighting,ah ! blight ing .

When such a thought cometh

Let u s no t pine,

Bu t gather old friend s

Round the red wine

Oh pour the red wine

And there we’ll talk

And warm our wits

With E as tern fallacies

Out o f o ld Fitz

British Old Fitz !

See him,half s tat esman

Philosopher too

Half ancient marine r

In baggy b lu e

Such baggy blu e !1 64

T O EDWARD FITZGERALD

Whimsical,wist ful

,

Haughty,forsoo th

Indolent always,yet

Ardent in truth,

But indolent,indolent

The re at the tabl e

With us s it s he,

Charming us sub tlyTo reverie

,

Magic reverie .

How sweet is summer’s b reath,

How sure and swift is death

Nought wis e on earth,s ave

What the wine wh isp e re th ,Dreamily w h isp e re th .

At Naish ap t'

I r b eneath the sun,

Or here in m is ty Babylon,

Drink for the ro se l eaves whil e you l ingerAre fall ing

,ever fall ing

,one by one .

Ah poet’s soul,once more with us conspire

To grasp this sorry scheme o f things entire,

Once more with us to-night,Old Fitz

,once more

Re mould it nearer to the heart’s des ire !

165

Ya ttendon

MONG the woods and t ill age

That fringe the topmost downs,

Al l lonely l ies the Vill age,

Far off from seas and towns .Yet when her own folk s lumbered

I heard within her s tree t

Murmur o f men unnumb ered

And march of myriad feet .

For all Sh e l ies so lonely,

Far off from towns and s eas,

The vill age holds no t only

The roo fs b eneath her trees

While Life is sweet and tragic

And Death is veil ed and dumb,

Hither,by s inger

’s m agic ,

The pilgrim world must come .

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Among tbe Tombs

HE is a lady fa ir and wis e,

Her heart her counsel keeps,

And well Sh e knows o f tirn e that flies

And tide that onward sweeps

But S til l she s its with res tless eyes

Where Memory sleeps

Where Memory S le eps .

Ye that have heard the whispering deadIn every wind that creeps

,

Or fel t the s tir that s trains th e lead

Beneath the mounded heaps,

Tread so ftly,ah more so ftly t read

Where Memory sleeps

Where Memory sl'eeps.

(AFTER GIOVAN N I PASCOLI)

T bedtime,when the sunset fire was red

One cypres s turned to gold beneath its touch .

Sleep now,my little son

,

” the mot her said

In God’s high garden all the trees are such .

Then did the child in his b right dream behold

Branches o f gold,t rees

,forest s a ll of gold .

A Sower

ITH s anguine looks

And roll ing walk

Among the rooks

He loved to S talk,

Whil e on the l and

With gusty laugh

From a full handHe scat tered chaff.

Now tha t with in

His sp irit sleeps

A harves t thin

The s ickle reaps

But the dumb fields

Desire his tread,

And no earth yields

A wheat more red .

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1 72 THE MOSSROSE

And Sh e flung her arms abou t him,and gave l ike a s is ter

,

And laughed at he r own tears,and wept again when he

k is s ed her .

SO the ros e is mine long s ince, and whenever I find it

And drink again the sharp sweet s cent o f the moss

b ehind it,

I remember th e tears o f a child,and her love and her

laughter,

And the morning shadows of youth and the night that

fell thereafter.

Ave,Soror

LEFT behind the ways o f care,

The crowded hurrying hours,

I breathed again the woodland air,

I plucked the woodland flowers

Bluebells as y e t bu t half awake,Primroses pal e and cool

,

Anemones l ike s tars that shakeIn a green twil ight pool

On thes e s t ill l ay the enchanted shade,The magic April sun

With my own child a child I s trayed

And thought the years were one .

AS through the copse she went and c am eMy s enses los t their truth

I called her by the cl ear dead name

That sw eetened all my you th .

To a River in tbe Sou tlz

ALL me no more,0 gentl e s tream

,

To wander through thy sunny dream,

No more to lean at twil ight coolAbove thy weir and gl immering pool .

Surely I know thy hoary dawns,

The s ilver c risp on all thy l awns,

The so ftly swirl ing und ersong

That rocks th y reeds the w inter long .

Surely I know the joys that ring

Through the green deeps o f l eafy spring ;I know the e lfin cups and domes

That are their small and secret homes .

Yet is the l ight fo r ever los t

That daily once thy meadows crossed,

The voice no more by the e is heard

That matched the song o f s tream and b ird .

Call me no more — thy waters 1 011Here

,in the world that is my soul

,

And here,though E arth be drowned in night

,

Old love shall dwell with old del ight .

1 74

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Midway

URN back,my Soul

,no longer s et

Thy peace upon the years to come,Turn b ack

,the land o f thy regret

Holds nothing doubtful,nothing dumb .

There are the voices,there the s cenes

That make thy l ife in l iving truth

A tale o f heroes and o f queens,

Fairer than all the hopes o f youth .

Ad Ma tr em D olor osam

HINK no t thy l it tl e fountain’s rainThat in the sunlight ros e and flashed

,

From th e bright sky has fallen again,

To cold and shadowy sil ence dashed .

The Joy that in her rad iance l eapt

From everlas ting hath no t sl ept .

The hand that to th y hand was cl ear,The untroubl ed eyes that m irrored thine

,

The Voice that gave thy soul to hear

A whisper o f the Love Divin e

What though th e gold was mixed with dust I

The gold is thine and cannot rust .

Nor fear,because thy darl ing’s heart

NO longer b eats with mortal l ife,

That she has m issed the ennobl ing part

Of human growth and human strife .Only she has th e e ternal peace

Wherein to reap the soul’s increas e .

Snow Wbite

HE children s aid,When Christmas comes

Then Lucy shall be dead

And l a id upon a b ier

And we,” they s aid ,

Will s tand there in ou r placesWith dw arfish hoods o f red

Hiding our faces .

There she will be

Wrapped in her golden hair

And very s t ill , and we

All s til l abou t her there

No t s ad nor crying,But wondering what has com eTo keep ou r Snow-White lying

SO pale and dumb .

0 p lay too b rave

They in their child ish art

Knew not to whom they gave

That unregarded part

1 78

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Vrais Aman ts

(FOURTEENTH CENTURY)

IME mocks th y opening mus ic with a clos e .

What now he g ives long s ince he gave awayThou d e em st thy sun hath risen

,bu t ere it ros e

I t was ecl ips ed,and dusk shall be th y day .

”

Yet has the Dawn gone up in lovelies t l ight

She walks high heaven beyond the shadow there

Whom I too Veil ed from all men’s envious s ight

Wi th inward eyes adore and s ilent prayer .

Tbe Sang r e a l

NCE,when bes id e me in that s acred place

I s aw my lady lift her lovely head,

And s aw the Chal ice gl eam above h e rfac eAnd her dear l ip s with l ife immortal red

,

Then,b orn again b eyond the mist of years,

I knelt in Heaven,- and drank the wine o f tears .

Sir Hugli tli e Palmer

E kneel ed among a was t e o f s andsBefore the Mother-Maid

,

But on the far green fo rest-lands

His s tead fas t eyes were s tayed ,And l ike a knight o f s tone his handsHe s traightened while he prayed .

Lady, beyond all women fair,Beyond all s a ints benign,

Whose l iving heart through l ife I bear

In mystery d ivine,Hear thou and grant me this my prayer,Or grant no prayer o f mine .

The fever o f my spirit’s pa in

Heal thou with heavenly scorn

The dus t that but o f dus t is fain

Leave thou in dus t forlornYe a bury love to ris e again

Meet fo r et ernal morn .

1 8 2

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1 84 S IR HUGH T HE PALMER

Azure and white is all his wear,

He hath no gold,I trow

Wanderer,thou in the wild-wood there

,

0Tell u s why s ing ve so

Nob le lad ies and lordings gay,

God have you a ll in guard

Since y e are pl eas ed with me to play,My riddle it is no t hard .

I s ing becaus e,of all that ride

,

I am the l eas t o f worth

I s ing becaus e,to match m y pride,

Never was pride on earth .

But,an y e ask what that may mean,

Thus do I answer then

I b ear with me the heart o f a ! ueen

I that am l eas t o f men

I bear h e r heart t il l the end o f all,

Yea by her own command

I bear the heart o f a ! ueen royal

Unto the Holy Land .

”

Humbly there his cres t he bent,

Azure it waved and white,

Haught ily there he turned and went

Singing,ou t o f their s ight .

Long,long bu t his vo i c e they heard

,

A vo ice where none was s een,

Singing b l ithe as a hidden b ird,

Among the fores t green .

Tb e Presentat ion

HEN in the womb o f Time our sou ls’ own son

Dear Love lay Sleeping till his natal hour,

Long months I knew not that sweet l ife begun,

Too d imly treasuring thy touch o f power ;And wandering all thos e days

By far-offways,

Forgot immortal s eed must have immortal flower .

Only,beloved

,s ince my beloved thou art

I do remember,now that m emory’s vain

,

How twice o r thrice b eneath my b eat ing heartLife quickened suddenly with proudes t pain .

Then dreamed I Love’s increas e,

Yet held my peace

Till I might render thee thy own great gift again .

For as with bod ies,SO with souls it is

,

The greater gives,the l es ser doth conceive

That thou has t fathered Love,I tell thee this

,

And by my pangs b es eech thee to b elieve .

Look on his hope d ivine

Thy hope and mine

Pity his outs tretched hands,tenderly h im rece ive

Tbe Inbe r itance

HILE I within her s ecret garden walked,

The flowers,that in her presence must

dumb,

With me,their fellow-s ervant

,so ftly talked ,

Attending t ill the Flower Offlowers should come .Then, s ince a t Court I had arrived bu t late,I was by love made bold

To ask that o f my lady’s high estate

I might be told,

And glories o f her blood,perpetuate

In his tories o ld .

Then they , who know the chronicl e o f E arth,Spoke o f her lovel ines s

,tha t l ike a flame

Far—handed down from nobl e birth to b irth,

Gl addened the world fo r ages ere Sh e came .Yea

, y e a,” they s aid

,

! from Summer’s royalComes that immortal l ine

,

And was creat e not fo r this age aloneNo r wholly thin e

,

B eing indeed a flower whos e root is one

With Life Divine .

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Amore Alt iero

INCE thou and I have wandered from the highwayAnd found with heart s reborn

This swift and unimaginable bywayUnto the hill s o f morn

,

Shall no t ou r love disdain the unworthy uses

Of the old t im e outworn I

I’ll no t entrea t thy hal f unwill ing graces

With humb ly folded palms,

No r s eek to shake thy proud defended places

With nois e o f vagu e alarms,

Nor ask agains t my fortune’s grim pursu ingThe refuge o f thy arms .

Thou’l t not withhold for pleasure vain and

That which has long b een mine,

No r overheap with b riefly burning fuel

A fire o f flame d ivine,

Nor yield the key fo r l ife’s pro faner voicesTo b rawl within the shrine .

1 8 8

AMORE ALTIERO 1 89

But thou shal t tell me of thy queenly pleasure

Al l that I mus t fulfil,

And I’ll receive from out my royal treasure

What golden gifts I wil l,

So that two realms supreme and undisputedShall b e one kingdom still .

And our high heart s shall p raise the beauty hiddenIn s t arry-minded scorn

By the s ame Lord who hath His s ervants b iddenTo seek with eyes new-born

This swift and un imaginable byway

Unto the hill s o f morn .

Tbe Pedlar’s Song

TRAMPED among the townward throngA sul try summer’s morn

They mocked me loud,they mocked me long

,

They laughed my pack to s corn .

But a l ikely pedlar holds h is peaceUnt il the reckoning’s told

Merrily I to market went, tho’ songs were all my

At weary noon I l eft the town,

I l e ft the highway s traight,

I cl imbed the s il ent,sunlit down

And s tood by a cas tle gate .Never yet was a house too highWhen the pedlar’s heart was bold

Merrily I to market went, tho’ songs were

A l ady l eaned from her window thereAnd asked my wares to s ee

Her voice made rich the summer air,

Richer my sou l in me .

She gave me only fou r l it tl e words,

Word s o f a language old

Merrily I from market came , fo r al l my songs were

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Love and Gr i efNE day

,when Love and Summer both were young

,

Love in a garden found my lady weeping

Whereat,when he to kiss her would have sprung

,

I s tayed his child ish leaping .

Forbear,s a id I

,she is no t th ine to-day

Subdue thysel f in silence to await her ;I f thou dare call her from Death’s s ide awayThou art no Love

,but traito r .

Yet did he run,and she his kis s received

,

She is twice m ine,

” he cried,s ince she is troubl ed

I knew bu t half,and now I s ee her grieved

My part in her is doubled .

”

Egeria’s Silence

ER thought that,l ike a brook beside the way,

Sang to my steps through all the wander ing year,

ceased from melody— O Love,all ay

My sudden fear

She canno t fa il- the beauty o f that b rowCould never flower above a desert heart

Somewhere beneath,the well-spr ing even now

Lives,though apart .

Some day,when winter has renewed her fount

With cold,white-folded snows and quiet rain,

0 Love,0 Love

,her s tream again will mount

And s ing again

True T/z om as

UEEN,when we kissed bene ath the E ildon

I kissed fo r ever,t id e me weal o r woe

ro ad and narrow ways lay far below

Among the fern you shook your b ridle freeWe dared the dark

,w e d ared the roaring s ea

,

We rode fo r Elfland— ah how long ago

Body and sou l you have been mine,I know .

Body and soul you have been sure o f me .

Now comes the end— ye t now when age shall cas t

L ike withered l eaves into the mouldering pas tThe Rhymer’s heart

,the l ips that kissed and sang

,

S t ill,s t ill the Elfin soul o f m e shall flame

TO find the land wherefrom you r beauty came,

The ro ad whereon that night your bridle rang .

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Again st Oblivion

ITIE S drowned in Olden t im e

Keep,they s ay, a magic chime

Roll ing up from far belowWhen the moon-led waters flow .

SO within m e,ocean deep

,

Lie s a sunken world asleep .

Les t its bells forge t to ring,

Memory se t th e t id e a-swing

Fond Coun sel

YOUTH, bes ide thy silver-springing fountain,In s ight and hearing o f th y father

’s co t,

These and the morning woods,the lonely mountain

,

These are thy peace, al though thou know’st i t no t .

Wander no t y e t where noon’s unpitying glare

Beats down the to ilers in th e c ity bare

Fo rsak e not yet,no t yet

,the homely plot

,

0 Youth,bes ide th y s ilver-spr ing ing founta in.

You tb

I S song o f d awn outso ars the j oyful bird,

Swift on the weary road his footfall comes

The dus ty air that by his s trid e is S tirred

Beats with a buoyant march of fairy drums .Awake

,0 E arth ! thine ancient slumber b reak ;

OTo the new day,O slumb rous E arth

,awake

Yet long ago that merry march began,

His feet are o lder than the path they t read

His music is the morning-song o f man,

His s trid e the s trid e o f all the val iant dead

His younges t hopes are memories,and his eyes

Deep with the o ld,o ld dream that never dies .

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Tbe Adven ture rs

VER the downs in sunl ight clearForth we went in the spring Ofthe year

Plunder o f April’s gold we sought,

Lit tl e o f April ’s anger thought .

Caught in a copse withou t defence

Low we crouched to the rain-squall dens e

Sure,if m isery man can ve x

,

There i t b eat on our bended necks.

Yet when again we wander on

Suddenly all that gloom is goneUnder and over through the wood

,

L ife is as t ir,and l ife is good .

Violets purple,v iolets white

,

D el icate w indflow e rs dancing l ight,

Primrose,mercury

,mos ca tel

,

Shimmer in diamonds round the dell .

Squ irrel is climbing swift and l ithe,

Chiff-chaffwhett ing his airy s cy the,Woodpecker whirrs his rattl ing rap

,

R ingdove flies with a sudden clap .

200

THE ADVENTURERS

Rook is summoning rook to build,

Dunnock his beak with moss has filled,

Ro bin is bowing in co at-tails brown,Tomtit chattering upside down .

Well is i t s een that every one

Laughs at the rain and loves the sun

We too laughed with the wildwood crew,

Laughed till the sky once more was blue .

Homeward over the downs we wentSoaked to the heart with sweet content ;April’s anger is swift to fall

,

April’s wonder is worth it all .

20 1

To Clare

(WITH A VO LUME OF STOR IE S FROMFRO I S SART)

Y CLARE,

These tales were told,you know

,

In French,five hundred years ago

,

By o ld Sir John,whos e heart’s del ight

Was lady sweet and val iant knight .A hundred years went by, and thenA great lord told the tales again

,

When bluffKing Hal des ired his folk

To read them in' the tongue they spoke .Last

,I

'

m yse lfamong them took

What I loved bes t and made this book.

Great,les ser

,less— thes e writers three

Worked fo r the days they could not s ee,And certes

,in their work they knew

Nothing at all,dear child

,o f you .

Yet is this book you r own in tru th,Becaus e ’t is m ade fo r nobl e youth

,

And every word that’s l iving there

Must d ie when Clares are no more Clare .

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204. THE RETURN OF SUMMER

C. Father yo u are pervers e S ince when, I beg,Have fores t b irds b een tethered by th e leg I

They’re everywhere ! What more can you des ire

The cuckoo shout s as though he’d never t ire,

The nuthatch,knowing that o f no is e you’re fond

,

Keeps chuck ing s tones along a frozen pond,

And busy gold-cres t, somewhere ou t o f s ight,Works a t his s aw with all his t iny might .

I do not count the ring-doves o r the rooks,

We hear so much abou t them in the books

They’re hardly real but from where I s it

I s e e two chaffinches,a long-tailed t it

,

A missel-thrush,a yafll e

That will doI m ay have overlooked a b ird o r two .

Wh ere are the b iscuits I Are you get t ing crampDown by the water there— it mus t be damp I

C . I’m only watching til l you r bo ttle’s cool

It l ies so snug b eneath this glassy pool,

Like a sunk b attleship and overhead

The water-boatmen ge t their d aily bread

By rowing all day long, and far below

Two l it tle eels go winding,winding slow

Oh there’s a shark

A what IA miller’s thumb

Don’t move,I’ll t empt h im with a t iny crumb .

H . Be quick abou t it, pl eas e, and don’t forget

I am at l eas t as dry as he is wet .

C. Oh,very wel l then

,here’s your drink .

THE RETURN OF SUMMER 205

That’s good I

I feel much better now .

I thought you would (e xit qu ie tly) .

How beautiful the world is when it breathes

The news of summer —when the bronzy Sheathes

St ill hang about the beech-l eaf,and the oaks

Are wearing s till their dainty t assell ed cloaks,

While on the hills ide every hawthorn pale

Has taken now her balmy br idal veil,

And,down below

,the drowsy murmuring s tream

Lu lls the warm noonday in an endless dream .

0 l it tle b rook,fa r more thou art to me

Than all the pageantry of field and tree

Es singen wobl die N ixe n— ah ’t is t ruth

Tie f unte n ibre n Re ib’n— but only Youth

Can hear them joyfu lly, as once I lay

And heard them s inging o f the world’s highway,Of wandering ended

,and the maiden found

,

And golden bread by magic m ill-wheel ground .

Los t is the magic now,the wheel is s t ill

,

And long ago the maiden l eft the m ill

Yet once a year, one day, when summer dawns,The old

,old murmur haunts the river-lawns

,

The fairies wake,the fairy song is sung

,

And fo r an hour the wanderer’s feet are young (bedoz e s) .

(re turning) Father I called you twice .

I d id not know

Where have you b een I

Oh,down the s tream .

206 THE RETURN OF SUMMER

Well,I went up .

C . I wish you’d been with me .II . When E as t Wes t

,my daughter, that m ay be .

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208 DREAM-MARKET

Where even one flower falls,o r one so ft petal

,

Next year shall s e e a hundred .

[As ibey tu rn to go, e nte r LUC IA in bunting dress, witb

bow in band and a bound by be r side . FLORA

rise s to me e t be r,and re calls be r maidens.]

Stay at tend me .LUC IA . Greet ing

,fa ir lad ies you

,I think

,must be

Daughters o f this green E arth,and one o f you

The sweet Dame Flora .

FLORA . You r true s ervant,madam .

But if my memory be no t newly witheredI have no t known the pleasure .

LUCIA . Yes, you have s een me

At l eas t, you might have s een me I am Lucia

,

Lady o f Moonl ight,and I o ften hunt

These downs o f yours with all my nightly pack

Of quest ing beams and velvet-foo ted shadows .FLORA . I fear at night .LUCIA . Oh

,yes a t night you are sleeping !

And I by day am alway s rather fa intSo we don’t mee t bu t sometimes you r good folk

Have torn my nets by raking in the waterAnd though their neighbours laughed

,there are wors e

way sO f spending t ime

,and fa r wors e things to rake for

Than s ilver l ights upon a crys t al s tream .

But come My royal S ire, the Man in the MoonHe has been here IFLORA . SO many k ings come here,

I c an’t be sure I’ve heard the Man in the Moon

DREAM-MARKET 209

Did once come down and ask his way to Norwich .

But that was years agone— hundreds o f yearsIt may not b e th e s ame— I do no t know

You r royal father’s age .

LUCIA . His age I Oh surelyHe never can b e more than one month old .

FLORA . Yet he’s your father

LUCIA . Well,he is and is not

[Proudly] I am the daughter o f a mill ion moons .They month by month and year by circl ing year,From their celes tial palace looking downOn your day-wearied E arth, have soothed her sleep,And rocked her t ides

,and mad e a magic world

For all her lovers and her night ingales .You owe them much

,my ancestors . NO doub t

,

At t imes they suffered under clouds at t imes

They were eclipsed yet in their brighter hoursThey were il lus trious

FLORA . And may I hope

Your present Sire,his present Serene Highness

,

Is in h is brighter hours to-day I

LUCIA . Ah no .

Be sure he is not— els e I had no t l eftMy cool , sweet garden o f un fad ing starsFor the rank meadows Ofthis sun-worn mould .

FLORA . What is you r trouble, then I

LUCIA . Al though my fatherHas been bu t t en days reigning

,he is s ad

With all the s adness o f a phantom realm,

And all the sorrows of t en thous and years.

I S

2 1 0 DREAM-MARKET

We in ou r Moonland have no l ife l ike yours,

NO b ir th,no death we l ive bu t in ou r dreams

And when they are grown Old— thes e mortal vis ions

O f an immortal sl eep— w e s eem to lose them .

They are too s trong fo r u s,too s el f—suffi c ient

To l ive for us they go their ways and l eave us,

L ike shadows grown sub st antial .FLORA . I have heard

Something on earth no t unl ike this complaint ;But can I help you I

LUCIA . Lady,if yo u c anno t,

NO one can help . In Moonland there is famine,

We are los ing all ou r d reams,and I come hither

To buy a new one fo r my father’s house .

FLORA . To buy a dream I

LUCIA . Some l it tle darl ing dreamThat will b e always with us

,night and day,

Loving and teas ing,s ail ing l ight o f heart

Over ou r d arkes t d eeps,remind ing us

O f our los t childhood,playing ou r old games

,

S inging our old songs,asking our o ld riddles

,

Build ing our o ld hopes,and with ou r Old gusto

Rehears ing for u s in one endles s act

The world pas t and the world to be .

F LORA . Oh now

I s ee your meaning . Yes,I have ind eed

Plenty o f such sweet dreams we call them children .

They are our dreams too,and though they are born of us

,

Truly in them we l ive . But,deares t lady

,

We do not s ell them .

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2 1 2 DREAM-MARKET

I m ight look down when our great galleon s ailsClose over earth

,and s ee them always here

D ancing upon the moonl i t shores o f night .But how to choos e -and though they are young and fair

Their every grace fo retells the fatal change,

The swift short b loom o f girlhood,l ike a flower

Pass ing away,fo r ever pass ing away .

Have you no t one with petals tenderer yet,

More deeply folded,further from the hour

When the bud d ies into the mortal ros e I

FLORA [pointing] . Tbe re is my younges t blossom and

my faires t,

But my mos t wil ful too— you ’ll pluck her no t

Withou t some a id o f magic .

LUC IA . Tim e has b een

When I have known even you r fores t t rees

Sway to a song Ofmo onland . I wil l try it .

[Sbe sings and dance s a w itcbing me asure .]

SONG

an a ir by HENRY LAWE S , publisbe d inTHE flowers that in thy garden rise

,

Fade and are gone when Summer fl ies,

And as their sweets by t ime decay,So shall thy hopes b e cas t away .

The Sun that gilds the creeping moss

Stayeth not Earth’s e ternal loss

He is the lord of all that l ive,

Ye t there is l ife he cannot give .

DREAM-MARKET 2 1 3

The s tir o f Morning’s eager breath

Beautiful Eve’s impass ioned deathThou loves t thes e

,thou loves t well

,

Yet of the N ight thou cans t no t tell .

In every land thy fee t may tread,

Tirne l ike ax

ve il is round thy headOnly th e l and thou se e k

’st with me

Never hath been nor ye t shall be .

It is no t far,i t is no t near

,

Name it hath none that E arth can hear ;But there thy Sou l shall bu ild again

Memories long dest royed o f men,

And Joy thereby shall l ike a r iver

Wander from deep to deep for ever .

[Wben sbe bas finisbe d tbe cbild runs into be r arms ]FLORA . Your spell has won her

,and I m arvel not

She was but hal f ou r own .

[To tbe Cbild] Farewell,dear child

,

’Tis t ime to part, you with this lovely lady

To dance in s ilver halls,and gather s tars

And be the dream you are whil e we return

To the Old toil and harves t o f the E arth .

Farewell ! and farewell all

ALL . Farewell farewell[Exe unt omnes.

of tbc Cbildr e n in Pa lador e

O Alado re,to Alado re

,

Who goes the pilgrim way IWho goes with us to Alado reBefore the dawn o f day I

O if we go the pilgrim w ay

Tell us,t el l u s tru e

,

How do they make their p ilgrimage

That walk the w ay with you I

0 you must make you r pilgrimage

By noonday and by night,By seven years o f the hard

,hard road

And an hour o f S tarry l ight .

0 if we go by the hard, hard road

Tel l u s , t ell us true,What shall they find in Alado reThat walk the way with you I

2 1 4

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Tbe Cicalas An Idy ll

Sce ne : AN E N GLI S H GARDEN BY STARLIGHTP e rsons : A LADY AND A POET

THE POET

IMLY I s ee you r face I hear your breath

Sigh faintly,as a flower might s igh in death

And when you whisper,you bu t s t ir the a ir

With a soft hush l ike summer’s own despair.

THE LADY (aloud)0 N ight d ivine

,O Darkness ever bles t

,

G ive to ou r old sad Earth eternal res t .

S ince from her hear t all beau ty ebb s away,

Let her no more endure th e shame o f d ay

THE POET

A thousand ages have not made l ess bright

The s tars that in th is foun ta in shine to -night

Your eyes in shadow s till betray th e gleam

That every son o f m an des ires in dream .

2 1 6

T HE CI CALAS : AN I DYLL

THE LADYYes

,hearts will burn when all the s tars are cold

And Beauty l ingers— bu t her tale is told

Mankind has left her fo r a game o f toys,

And fleets the golden hour with speed and noise .

THE POET

Think you the human heart no longer feels

Because it loves the swift d el ight o f wheels IAnd is no t Change ou r one tru e gu ide on earth

,

The sures t hand that l eads u s from our birth I

THE LADY

Change were no t always loss,if we could keep

Beneath all change a clear and windless d eep

But more and more th e t id es that through u s roll

Disturb the Very s ea-b e d o f the soul .

THE POET

The foam of trans ient pass ions cannot fret

The sea-b e d of the race,

~profounder yet

And there,where Greece and her foundations

Lie s Beauty,buil t below the t ide o f war .

THE LADY

So— to the desert,once in fifty years

Some poor m ad poet s ings,and no one hears

But what belated race,in what far clime

,

Keep s even a l egend of Arcad ian tim e I

2 1 7

2 1 8 THE CI CALAS : AN IDYLL

THE POET

Not ours perhaps a nation s till so young,So late in Rom e’s deserted orchard sprung

,

Bears no t as yet,bu t s trikes a hopeful root

Till the so il yield it s old Hesperian fru it .

THE LADYIs no t the hour gone by I The mystic s tra in

,

Degenerate once,m ay never spring again .

What long-fo rsaken god s shall we invoke

To grant such increas e to our common oak I

THE POET

Ye t may the il ex,of more ancient b irth

,

More deeply planted in that genial earth,

From her Ital ian wildwood even now

Revert,and b ear onc e more the golden bough .

THE LADYA poet’s d ream was never yet l es s greatBecaus e it is su ed through the ivory gate

Show me one l eaf from that old wood d ivine,

And all your ardour,all your hopes are m ine .

THE POET

May Venus bend me to no harder task !For— Pan be praised — I hold the gift you ask .

The leaf,the legend

,that you r wish fulfils

,

TO-day he b rought me from the Umbrian hil ls.

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220 THE CICALA8 2 AN IDYLL

THE POET

Lover o f music,you at leas t should know

That thes e were men in ages long ago,

E re music was,— and then the Mus es came

,

And love o f song took hold on them l ike flame .

THE LADYYes

,I remember now the voice that speaks

Mos t l iving s t ill Of all the deathless Greeks

Yet tell me— how they d ied d ivinely mad,

And of the Muses what reward they had .

THE POET

They are reborn on earth, and from the firs t

They know no t sleep,they hunger not nor thirs t

Summer with glad Cicala’s song they fill,

Then d ie,and go to haunt the Muses ’ Hill .

THE LADYThey are reborn indeed and rightly you

The far-heard echo o f their mus ic knew

Pray now to Pan,s ince you too , i t wou ld seem,

Were there with Phae drus,by Il issus

’ s t ream .

THE POET

Beloved Pan,and all y e gods whos e grace

Fo r ever haunts our short l ife’s res t ing-place,

Outward and inward make me one t ru e whole,

And grant m e b eauty in the inmos t soul

TH E C ICALAS : AN IDYLL 221

THE LADY

And thou,0 N ight

,O s t arry ! ueen of Air,

Rememb er not my bl ind and faithless prayer |

Let me too l ive,l e t me too S ing again

,

Since Beauty wanders s till the ways o f men .

Tbe Faun

ESTERDAY I thought to ro am

Idly through the fields o f home,

And I came at morn ing’s end

To our b rook’s familia r bend .

There I ra ised my eyes,and there

,

Shining through an ampler a ir,

Folded in by hill s o f b lu e

Such as Wess ex never knew,

Changed as in a waking d ream

Flowed the well-remembered S tream .

NOW a l ine o f wattled pal e

Fenced the downland from the vale,

Now the s edge was s e t with reeds

Fit ter fo r Arcad ian meads,

And where I was wont to find

Only things o f t imid k ind,

Now the Gen iu s o f the poolMocked me from his corner cool .Eyes he h ad with mal ice qu ick

,

Tufted hair and ears a-prick,

And,above a t iny chin

,

Lips with laughter wide a—grin .

2 22

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224 THE FAUN

Do you know that I can d ive

As d eep as any duck alive IWou ld you l ike to s ee me drop

Out o f yonder Willow’s top I

Sternly I repl ied again,

You may spare you r boast ing vain

All that you can do I did

When I was mys el f a kid .

Laughter followed such as peal e dThrough the firs t unfurrowed field .

Then what mother s ays is t ru e,And your hoof is cloven too

Ah — but that irreverent mirth,

Learnt o f the primeval earth,

Surely was with magic fraught

That upon my pulses wrought

I too fel t the a ir o f June

Humming with a merry tune,

I too reckoned,l ike a boy

,

Less o f Time and more o f JoyTill

,as homeward I was wend ing

,

I perce ived my back unbending,And befo re the m ile was done

Ran bes ide my t ruant son .

Fidele’s Gras.gy Tomb

HE Squire s at propped in a pillowed chair,

His eyes were al ive and clear o f care,

But well he knew that the hou r was comeTo bid good-by e to his ancient home .

He looked on garden,wood

,and hill

,

He looked on the lake,sunny and s t ill

The las t o f earth that his eyes could see

Was the island church of Orchardleigh .

The las t that his heart could understand

Was th e touch o f the tongue that licked his hand

Bury the dog at my feet,

” he s aid,

And his voice dropped,and the Squire was dead .

Now the dog was a hound o f the Danish breed ,Staunch to love and s trong at need

He h ad d ragged his mas ter s afe to shore

When the t ide was ebb ing at Els inore .

From that day forth,as reason would

,

He was named Fidele,

” and made it good

When the l as t o f th e mourners l eft the doo r

Fid e l e was dead on the chantry floor .

16 22 5

226 FIDELE ’S GRASSY TOMB

They buried him there a t his master’s feet,

And all that heard o f i t d eemed it meet

The story went the round fo r years,

Till i t came at las t to the Bishop ’s ears .

Bishop o f Bath and Wells was he,

Lord of the lord s o f Orchardle igh

And he wrote to the Parson th e s tronges t screed

That Bishop may write o r Parson read .

The sum of it was that a sou lless hound

Was known to b e buried in hallowed ground

From scandal so re the Church to save

They must t ake the dog from his mas ter’s grave .

The heir was far in a fo re ign land,

The Parson was wax to my Lord ’s command

He s ent fo r the Sexton and bade him make

A lonely grave by the shore o f the lake .

The Sexton s at by the water’s brink

Where he used to s it when he used to think

He reasoned slow,bu t he reasoned it ou t

,

And his argument l eft him free from doub t .

A Bishop,

” he said,is th e top o f his t rade

But there’s o thers can give him a S tart with th e‘ Spade

Yon dog , he carried the Squ ire ashore,And a Christ ian couldn ’t ha’ done no more .

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Moon set

AST s even o ’clock t ime to b e gone

Twelfth-night ’s over and dawn shivering upA hasty cut o f the lo af

,a s te am ing cup

,

Down to the doo r,and there is Co achman John .

Ruddy o f cheek is John and b right of e y eBut John it appears has none o f your grins and winks

Civil enough,bu t short perhaps he thinks

Words come once in a mile,and always dry .

Has he a mind o r not I I wonder but soon

We turn through a l eafless wood,and there to the right

,

Like a sun bewitched in al ien realms of night,

Mellow and yellow and rounded hangs the moon .

Strangely near she s eems,and terribly great

The world is dead : why are we travell ing still IN ightmare s ilence grips my s truggl ing will

We are driving fo r ever and ever to find a gate .

2 2 8

MOON SET 2 29

When you come to cons ider the moon, s ays John

last,

And stops,to feel his foo ting and take his stand

And then there’s some will s ay there’s never a hand

That made the worldA fl ick

,and the gates a re passed .

Out o f the dim magical moonlit park,

Out to the workday road and wider skies

There’s a warm flush in the E as t where d ay’s to ris e,

And I’m feel ing the b et ter fo r Coachman John’s remark .

A Song of Exm oor

HE Fo res t above and the Combe below,

On a b right September morn

He’s the sou l of a clod who thanks no t God

That ever his body was born

SO hurry along,the s tag’s afoot

,

The Mas ter ’s up and away

Halloo Halloo we’ll follow it throughFrom Bratton to Porlock Bay

So burry along, tbc stag’s afoot

,

Tbc M aste r’s up and away

Halloo Halloo we’

ll follow it tbrougbFrom Bratton to Porlock Bay

Hark to the tufters’ challenge true,

’Tis a note that the red-deer knows

His courage awakes,his covert he breaks

,

And up fo r the moor he goes

He’s all his rights and seven on top,

His eye’s the eye o f a king,

And he’ll beggar the pride o f some that ride

Be fo re he l eaves the l ing

2 30

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Master and Man

O y e ken hoo to fush fo r the s almon I

I f ye’ll l is t en I ’ll tell ye .

Di‘

nna trus t to the books and their gammon,

They’re bu t trying to s ell ye .

Leave professo rs to read their a in cackleAnd fush their a in s tyle

Come awa’

,s ir

,we’ll oo t w i’ oor tackle

And b e busy the while .

’Tis a We e bit ower bright, y e were th ink in

’I

Aw,ye’ll no b e the loser ;

’Tis bet ter t en baskin’ and blink in’

Than ane that’s a cru ise r .I f ye’re bent

,as I tak it

,on slatter

,

Ye shou ld pray for the droo t,

For the s almon’s her a in when there’s watter,

But she’s 001 3 when it’s oot .

Ye may j us t pu t your fl e e -book behind ye ,Ane hook wull b e plenty

If they’ll no come for this,my man, mind ye,

They’ll no come fo r twenty .

232

MASTER AND MAN

Ay, a rod bu t the shorter the s tranger

And the nearer to s trikeFor mysel f I prefat e it nae langer

Than a yard o r the l ike .

Noo,ye’ll s tand awa’ back while I’m c re e pin

’

Wi’ my snoot i’ the gowansThere’s a bonny tw alve -poonde r a

-sle e pin’

I’ the shade o’ yon rowans .Man

,man I was fe arin’ I’d s tirred her

,

But I ’ve go t her the noo

Hoot fu sh in’s as easy as m u rrde r

When ye ken what to do .

Na,na

,s ir

,I doot na ye’re will in’

But I canna permit ye

For I ’m th inkin

’that yon kind 0

’ k il l in’

Wad hardly b e fit ye .

And some work is d e e flicu lt hushim’

,

There’d b e havers and chaff’Twu ll b e bes t

,s ir

,fo r you to be fushin’

And me w i’ th e gaff,

233

Gavotte

(OLD FRE N CH)

EMORIES long in mus ic sleeping,

No more sleeping,

NO more dumb

Delicate phantoms softly creepingSoftly b ack from the old-world come .

Faint e st odou rs around them straying,

Suddenly s traying

In chambers d im

Whispering s ilks in order swaying,

Glimmering gems on shoulders sl im

Courage advancing Strong and tender,

Grace untender

Fanning des ire

Suppliant conques t,proud surrender

,

Courtesy cold o f hearts on fire

Willowy b illowy now they’re bending

,

Low they’re bend ing

Down-dropt eyesS tately measure and st ately end ing,Music sobbing

,and a dream that dies.

234

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IMOGEN

Pluck ye never so fas t a t pleasure,Twilight follows the longes t noon .

Nay,bu t here is a l ast ing boon

,

Life fo r hearts that are old and chill,

Youth undying fo r hearts that treasure

Imogen dancing,dancing still .

N e l Mez z o D e l Cammin

HISPER i t not that l ate in yearsSorrow shall fade and the world be brighter

,

Life be freed o f tremor and tears,

Heads b e wiser and hearts be l ighter .Ah bu t th e dream that all endears

,

The dream we sell for your pottage o f truth

Give us again the passion o f youth,

Sorrow shall fade and the World b e brighter.

Tbe Inva sion

PRING,they s ay

,with his greenery

Northward marches a t l ast,

Mus tering thorn and elm ;Breezes rumour him conquering

,

Tell how Victory S its

High on his glancing helm.

Smit with st ing o f his a rchery,

Hardest ashes and oaks

Burn at th e roo t belowPrimrose

,viole t

,daffod il

,

Start l ike b lood where the shaftsLight from his golden bow.

Here where winter Oppress es u s

S t ill we l is ten and doub t,

Dre ading a hope betrayedSore we long to b e greet ing him

,

Still we l inger and doub t

What if his march b e s tayed I

238

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RASSHOPPERS four a-fiddling wen t,Heigh-h o never be s t ill

They earned but l it tle towards their rent,

But all day long with their elbows bent

They fiddl ed a tune called Rilloby—rillo by,

F iddled a tune called Rilloby-rill .

Grasshoppers soon on Fairies came,

Heigh-h o never b e s t ill

Fairies asked with a manner o f bl ame,

Where do you come from,what Is you r name I

What do you want with your Rillo by— rilloby

What do you want with your Rilloby-rill I

Madam,you see befo re you s tand ,

Heigh-h o never b e st ill !

The Old Original Favou rite Grand

Grasshopper’s Green Herbarian Band,

And th e tune we play is Rillo by-rilloby,Madam

,the tune is Rillo by—rill .”

240

RI LLOBY-R I LL 24 I

Fairies hadn’t a word to s ay,

Heigh—h o never b e st ill

Fairies seldom are sweet by day,But the Gras shoppers merrily fiddl e d away

,

0 bu t they played with a willoby— rilloby,

O bu t they played with a willoby-will !

Fairies slum ber and sulk at noon,

Heigh—h o never b e s t ill

But a t l as t the kind o ld motherly moon

Brought them dew in a s ilver spoon,

And th e y turned to ask fo r Rilloby-rillo by,One more round of Rillo by-rill .

Ah bu t nobody now repl ied,

Heigh-h o never b e s t ill

When day went down the music d ied ,Grasshoppers four lay s ide by s ide,

And there was an e nd o f their Rilloby-rilloby,There was an end o f their Rillo by-rill .

Pe r e u n t Et Imp u ta n tu r

(AFTER MART IAL)

ERNARD,if to you and me

Fortune all a t once should giveYears to spend s ecu re and free

,

With the choice o f how to l ive,

Tell me,what should we proclaim

Life des erving o f the name I

Winning some one els e’s cas e I

Saving some one els e’s s eat I

Hearing with a solemn facePeople o f importance b l eat I

No,I think we should no t s t ill

Waste ou r t ime a t Others ’ wil l .

Summer noons b eneath the l imes,

Summer rides a t evening cool,

Winter’s t ales and home-mad e rhymes,Figures on the froz e n pool

These would w e fo r labours t ake,

And o fthese our business make .

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Felix An ton ius

(AFTER MART IAL)

O-DAY,my friend is s eventy-five ;

He tells his tale with no regre tHis b rave Old eyes are s teadfas t yet

,

His heart the l ightes t heart al ive .

He sees b ehind him green and wide

The pathway Ofhis pilgrim years

He sees the shore,and dreadless hears

The whisper o f the creeping t ide .

Fo r out o f all his days,not one

Has passed and l eft its unlaid ghos t

To s eek a l ight for ever lost,

Or wail a deed fo r ever done .

So fo r reward of l ife-long truth

He l ives again,as good men can

,

Redoub l ing his allo t ted span

With memories o f a s tainles s youth .

Ireland,Ir e lana’

OWN thy valleys,Ireland

,Ireland ,

Down thy valleys green and sad,

St ill thy spirit wanders wail ing,

Wanders wail ing,wanders mad .

Long ago that anguish took thee,

I reland,I reland

,green and fair

,

Spo il ers s trong in darkness took thee,

Broke thy heart and l eft thee there .

Down thy valleys,Ireland

,Ireland

,

Still thy spirit wanders mad

All too late they love that wronged thee,

Ireland,Ireland

,green and sad .

I Iymn

IN THE T IME OF WAR AND TUMULTS

LORD Almighty,Thou whos e hands

Despair and victory give

In whom,though tyrants tread their l ands

,

The sou ls o f nat ions l ive

Thou wil t no t turn Th y face awayFrom thos e who work Thy will

,

But s end Thy peace on hearts that pray,And guard Th y people s t ill .

Remember no t th e days o f shame,

The hands with rap ine dyed,

The wavering will,th e b as er aim

,

The b rute material prid e

Rememb er,Lord

,the years o f faith

,

The spirits humbly b rave,

The s trength that d ied defying death,

The love that loved the sl ave

246

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Tbe Building of tbe Temple

(AN ANTHEM HEARD I N CANTERBURY CATHEDRA L)

Tbe Organ .

LORD our God,we are s trangers before Thee

,

and soj ourners,as were all our fathers ou r days

on the earth are as a shadow,and there is none ab id ing .

O Lord God o f ou r fathers,keep this fo r ever in the

imaginat ion o f the thoughts o f Th y people, and prepare

their heart unto Thee .

And give unto Solomon my son a perfect heart to keep

Thy commandment s,and to bu ild the palace for the

which I have made provis ion .

Boys’voice s .

O come to th e Palace o f Life,

Let us build it aga in .

I t was founded on t erro r and strife,

I t was laid in the curs e of the womb,

And pillared on to il and pain ,And hung with ve ils o f doom ,

And vaul ted w ith th e darknes s o f the

348

THE BU I LD I N G OF THE TEMPLE 249

M e n’s voice s .

O Lord ou r God,we are soj ou rners here for a day ,

Strange rs and sojourners,as all our fathers w e re

Our years on the earth are a shadow that fadeth away

Grant us l ight fo r ou r l abour,and a t ime for prayer .

But now with endless song,

And j oy fulfill ing the Law ;Of pass ion as pu re as s trongAnd pleasure u ndirnm e d o f awe

With garners o f wine and gra in

Laid up for the ages long,

Let us bu ild th e Palace again

And enter with endles s song,

Enter and dwell s ecure,forgetting years

o f wrong .

M e n .

0 Lord our God,we are s trangers and sojourners here

,

Our beginning was night,and ou r end is hid in Thee

Our l abou r on the earth is hop e redeeming fear,

In sorrow we bu ild for the days we shall no t s ee .

Boys.

Great- is the name

Of the s trong and skilled,

Las ting the fame

Of them that build

250 T HE BU I LD I N G OF T HE TEMPLE

The tongues o f many nations

Shall s peak o f our praise,

And fa r generations

Be glad fo r our days .

M e n .

We are sojourners here as all our fathers were,

As all o ur children shall b e,forgett ing and forgot

The fame o f man is a murmur that pass eth on the air,

We perish indeed if Thou remember not .

We are soj ourners here as all our fathers were,

Strangers travell ing down to the land o f d eath

There is neither work nor device no r knowledge there,

0 grant u s might fo r our labour, and to res t in fa ith .

Boys .

In j oy,in the joy of the l ight to be,

M e n .

0 Father o f Lights,unvarying and tru e

,

Boys.

Let u s build the Palace o f Life anew.

M e n .

Le t u s bu ild fo r the years we shall no t s ee .

Boys .

Lofty o f l ine and glorious o f hue,

With gold and pearl and with the cedar tree ,

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To CO LON EL FRANCI S EDWARD YOUNGHUSBAND

CROSS the Western World,the Arab ian Sea

,

The Hundred Kingdoms and the Rivers Three,

Beyond the rampart o f Him é layan s nows,And up th e road that only Rumou r knows,Unchecked

,o ld friend

,from Devon to Thibet

,

Friendship and Memory dog you r foo ts teps yet .

Le t not the sco rnfu l ask me what ava ilsSO small a pack to follow mighty trails

Long s ince I s aw what d ifference mus t be

Between a s tream l ike you,a d itch l ike me .

This d rains a garden and a homely field

Which s carce a t t imes a l iving current yield

The o ther from the high l ands o f his birth

Plunges through rocks and spurns the pastoral

Then settl ing s ilent to his d eeper cours e

Draws in his fellows to augment his fo rce,

Becomes a name,and broadening as he goes

,

Gives power and purity where’er he flows

,

Till,great enough fo r any commerce grown

,

He l inks all nations while he serves his own .

25 2

EP I STLE 253

Sold ier,explorer

,s tatesman

,what in truth

Have you in common with homek e ep ing youth IYouth comes you r answer l ike an echo faint ;And you th it was that made us firs t acquain t .DO you remember when the Downs were white

With the March dus t from highways glaring bright,

How you and I,l ike yachts that tos s th e foam

,

From Pe npole Fields came stride and s tride for

home IOh e grimly l ead ing, one intent to pass,Mil e after mile we measured ro ad and grass

,

Twin s il ent shadows,t ill the hour was done

,

The shadows parted and the s tout er won .

S ince then I know one thing b eyond appealHow runs from s tem to s tern a trim bu ilt keel .Another day— bu t that ’s not mine to tell

,

The man in front does no t ob serve so wel l

Though,sp it e o f all thes e five -and-twenty years

,

As clear as l ife our s choolday scene appears .The guarded cours e

,the b arriers and the rope ;

The runners,s tripped o f all bu t shivering hope ;

The s tarter’s good grey head the sudden hush

The stern white l in e th e half-unconscious rushThe deadly b end

,the p ivot o f our fate

The rope again the long green l evel s traight

The l ane o f heads,the cheering hal f unheard

The dying spurt,the tape

,the j udge’s word .

You,too

,I doub t not

,from your Lama’s hall

Can see the Stand above the worn Old wall,

2 54 EP I STLE

Where then they clamoured as ou r race we sped,

Where now they numb er ou r hero ic d ead .

l

As clear as l ife you,too

,can hear the sound

O f voices once fo r all by lo ck-u p bound,

And see the flash of eyes s t il l nobly bright

But in the Bigsid e s crimmage lost to s ight .

Old loves,o ld rival ries

,old happy t imes,

These well may move you r memory and my rhymes

Thes e are the Pas t bu t there is that,my friend

,

Between us two,that has no r t ime nor end .

Though wide apart the l ines ou r fa te has t raced

Since thos e far shadows o f ou r boyhood raced,

In the d im region all men must explo re

The mind ’s Thibet,where none has gone before

Round ing some shou lder o f the lonely trailWe met once more

,and raised a lus ty hail .

Forward cr ied one,fo r us no beaten t rack

,

No city cont inu ing,no turning back

The pas t we love no t fo r its b eing pas t,

But fo r its hope and ardou r forward cas tThe victories o f our youth we count fo r gain

Only b ecaus e they s teeled ou r hearts to pain,And hold no longer even Clifton great

Save as she s chool ed our wills to s erve the Sta t e .

1 In th e schoo l quadrangle at Cli fton, th e s ite from which, uponoccas ion

,th e grand stand use d to ove r look th e Clos e

,is now occupi e d

by th e M e mor ial to thos e Cliftonians who fe l l in th e South AfricanWar .

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An E ssay on Crit icism

I S hard to s ay if greater wast e o f tim e

Is s een in Writing o r in read ing rhymeBut

,o f the two

,les s d angerous it appears

To tire ou r own th an po ison o thers ’ ears .Tim e was

,the owner Ofa peevish tongue

,

The pebbl e o f his wrath unheeding flung,

Saw the fa in t ripples touch the shore and ceas e,

And in the duckpond all again was peace .

But s ince that Science on ou r eyes hath laid

The wondrous cl ay from her own spittle made,

We see the widening ripples pass beyond,

The pond becomes the world,the world a pond

,

All ether t rembles when the pebble falls,

And a l ight word may ring in s tarry halls .When firs t on earth the swift iamb ic ran

Me n here and there were found bu t nowhere Man.

From whenceso e’er the ir o rigin they drew,

E ach on it s s eparate so il the spec ies grew,

And by s election, natural o r not,Evolved a fond b e lie f in one small spot .Th e Greek him s el f, with all his wisdom ,

took

For the wide world his bright lEge an nook,

2 5 6

A N E S SAY ON CR IT I C I SM 257

For fatherland,a town

,for publ ic

,all

Who at one t im e could h e ar th e herald bawlFor him barbarians b eyond his gate

Were lower b e ings,o f a d iffe re nt dat e

He never thought on such to spend his rhymes,

And if he did,they never read th e Tim e s .

Now all is changed,on this S id e and on that

,

The Herald ’s l earned to print and pass the hat

His tone is so much rais ed that,far o r near

,

All with a sou to spend his news may hear,

And who bu t,far or near

,the sou afford s

To l earn th e worst Offo reigners and lords

So comes the Pressman’s heaven on earth,wherein

One touch o f hatred proves the whole world kin

Our rul ers are th e best,and theirs the wors t

,

Our cause is always jus t and theirs accurs t,

Our troops are heroes,hirel ings theirs o r sl aves

,

Our d iplomats bu t children,theirs bu t knaves

,

Our Pres s fo r independence justly prized,

Theirs bought or bl ind,inspired o r sub sidized .

For the world ’s progres s what was ever made

Like to ou r tongue,ou r Empire and our trade I

So chant the nations,t ill at l as t you ’d think

Me n could no nearer howl to folly’s brinkYet some in England lately won renownBy howl ing word for word , bu t ups ide down .

But where,you cry

,could poets find a place

(Ifpoets we poss ess ed) in this d isgrace I

I 8

2 58 AN E S SAY ON CR ITI CI SM

Mail s will b e Mail s, Reviews must b e reviews,But why the Crit ic with the Bard confuse I

Al as Apollo , it mus t be confessed

Has lately gone the way o f all the res t .No more alone upon the far-offhillsWith song s erene the wilderness he fills

,

But in the forum now his art employsAnd what he lacks in knowledge gives in noise .

At firs t,ere he b egan to feel his feet

,

He b egged a corner in the hindmost sheet,

Concealed with Answers and Acrost ics lay,And held aloo f from ! uestions o f the Day .

But now,grown bold

,he dashes to the front

Among the l eaders bears the battle’s brunt,

Takes s teel in hand,and cheaply unafraid

Spurs a l ame Pegasu s on Jameson’s Raid,

Or p ipes the flee t in melodrama’s tones

To ram the Damned on their Infernal Thrones .

Sure,Scrible ru s him s elf cou ld scarce have guessed

The Art o f Sinking might b e further pressed

But whil e thes e errors almost tragic loom

The Ind ian D rummer has but raised a boom .

So well I love my country that the man

Who s erves her can bu t s erve her on my plan

Be sl im,b e s talky

,l eave you r Publ ic Schools

To muffs l ike Bob s and other flann e lle d fools

Th e lo rdlie st l ife (s ince Buller made such hay)Is kill ing men two thousand yards away ;

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260 AN ES SAY ON CR ITIC I SM

The s ecre t Jungle-l ife o f child and b eas t,

And all the magic o f the dream ing E as t .Thes e

,th e s e we loved with you

,and loved s till more

The Seven Seas that break on Brita in’s shore,

The winds that know her labou r and her pride,

And the Long Tra il whereon ou r fathers d ied .

In that Day’s Work b e su re you gained,my friend

,

Ifno t the crit ic’s name,at l eas t his end

Your song and story might have roused a slave

To s ee l ife bod ily and s e e it brave .

With vo ice so genial and so long of reach

To your Own Peopl e you the Law could preach,

And even now and then W ithout offence

To Less er Breeds expos e their lack o f s ens e .

Return,return and l e t u s hear again

The ringing engines and the deep-sea rain,

The ro aring chari ty o f the shore—Wind ’s vers e,

TOO b luff to b icker and too strong to curs e .Let us again with hearts s eren e behold

The coas twis e b eacons that we knew of old

So Shall you gu ide us when the s tars are veil ed,

And s tand among the Lights that never Fail ed .

Le By ron de N os fours ; or, TbeEng lisb Bar and Cross Rev iewers

TILL must I hear I— whil e Aus t in prints his vers e

And Satan ’s sorrows fill Co r e lli’s purs e,

Mus t I no t write l es t haply some K.C.

To flatte r Tennyson Should sneer a t me IOr must th e Angels o f the Darker Ink

NO longer tell the publ ic what to think

Must lectures and reviewing all b e s tayed

Until they’re l icensed by the Board of Trade IPrepare fo r rhyme— I

’ll risk it— b ite o r bark

I’ll s top th e pres s fo r neither Goss e no r Clarke .

O sport most noble,when two cocks engage

With equal b lindness and with equal rage

When each,intent to pick the o ther’s eye

,

Sees not th e feathers from himself that fly,

And,fired to scorch his rival ’s every bone

,

Ignores the inward heat that grills his ownUnt il s el f-plucked

,sel f-Spitted and self-roas t

,

Each to the other s erves him self on to ast .

But st ay,bu t Stay

,you’ve pitched the key

,my Muse

,

A semi-tone too low fo r great Reviews26 1

262 LE BYRON DE N O S J OURS

Such penny whis tl ing su its the co ckpit’s hum,

But here’s a s cene des erves the b igges t d rum .

Behold where high above the clamorous town

The vas t Cathedral-towers in peace look down

Hark to the entering crowd’s incess ant tread

They b ring their homage to the mighty dead .

Who in s ilk gown and fulles t-bottomed wig

Approaches yonder,with emotion big I

Room fo r Sir Edward now we shall be told

Which shrines are t in,which s ilver and which gold .

’Tis done and now by l ife-long habit bound

He turns to pros ecute the crowd aroundIndict s and pleads

,sums up the pro and con

,

The verdict finds and puts the black cap on .

Prisoners,attend o f ! ueen Vic to ria’s day

I am the Glo ry,you are the Decay .

You canno t think l ike Tennyson deceas ed,

You do no t s ing l ike Browning in the l eas t .O f Tennyson I s anction every word

,

Browning I cu t to something l ike one—third

Though,mind you this

,immoral he is not

,

St ill quite two-thirds I hope will b e fo rgot .He was to poetry a Tom Carlyle

And that reminds me,Thomas too was vile .

He wrote a l ife o r two,bu t parts

,I’m sure

,

Compared with other parts are very poo r .

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264 LE BYRON DE No s J OURS

Sir Edward turns to go,bu t as he wends

,

One swift irrelevant retort he s ends .Your logic and you r t as t e I both disdain

,

You ’ve quo ted wrong from Jonson and Montaigne .The sha ft goes home

,and somewhere in the rear

Birrell in smalles t print is heard to cheer .

And yet— and yet— conviction’s no t complete

There was a t ime when Mil ton walked th e s treet,

And Shakespeare s inging in a t avern dark

Would no t have much impres sed Sir Edward Clarke .To b e al ive— ay there’s the damning thing

,

Fo r who wil l buy a b ird that’s on the wing I

Catch,kill and s tuff the creature

,once for all

,

And he may yet ado rn S ir Edward’s hall

But whil e he’s free to go his own wild way

He’s no t so s afe a s b ird s o f yes terd ay .

In fine,if I mus t choos e— although I s ee

That both are wrong— Great Goss e I ’d rather b eA crit ic suckl ed in an age ou tworn

Than a b l ind hors e tha t s tarves knee-deep in co rn .

NOTE - Th e for e going parody,which first app e are d in Th e M onth ly

R evi ew som e ye ars ago,was an atte mpt to sum up and comm e morate

a l ite rary d is cuss ion of th e day. On Saturday night, Nove mb e r 1 5 ,1 90 2 ,

at th e Working Me n ’s Co l l e ge, Gr e at Ormond Str e e t, 5 11 Edward

Clarke ,K C.

, d e l ive r e d an addr e ss on T h e G lory and D e cay on ng lish

L ite ratur e in th e Re ign o f V ictoria . Sir Edward Clarke ,who

m e ntione d incid e nta l ly th at h e l e ctur e d at th e co l l e ge forty ye ars ago ,s aid that the re was a r is e from th e b e ginning of that re ign to th e p e riod

LE BYRON DE no s J OURS 265

1 85 0— 60,and that from th e latte r date th e r e ha d b e e n a ve ry strange

and lame n tabl e d e c line to th e e nd o f th e r e ign , wou ld ,h e though t, b e

amply de monstrate d . A glor ious galaxy o f ta l e nt adorne d th e ye ars1 8 50 — 60 . T h e r e w e r e tw o gr e at poe ts , tw o gr e at nove l ists , and tw ogre at h istorians . T h e tw o gr e at po e ts we r e Alfre d T e nnyson andRobe rt Browning . T h e firs t nam e d wou ld a lways stand at th e h e adof th e l ite ratur e of th e V ictor ian p e r iod . Th e r e was no poe t in th ewho l e cours e o f our h istory whos e works w e r e mor e l ike ly to l ive as acomp l e te who l e th an h e ,

and th e r e was no t a l in e wh ich h is fr i e ndswou ld Wish to se e blotte d o u t. Rob e rt Browning was a poe t o f strangeine qual ity and of e xtraord inary and fantas tic m e thods in h is compos ition . Howe ve r much on e could e njoy som e o f h is works

, on e

cou ld on ly hop e that tw o -th irds o f th e m wou ld b e as promptly aspassrb l e forgotte n— no t

,howe ve r

,from any mora l obje ction to wh at

h e w rote . H e was th e Car lyl e o f poe try . By h is L ive s of Sch i l l e ran d Ste r ling , Car ly l e show e d that h e cou ld wr ite b e auti fu l and pur eEng l ish , b u t that h e s hould d e sc e nd to th e s tyl e o f som e of h is late rworks was a me lancho ly e xampl e o f misdir e cte d e n e rgy . Ch ar l e sDicke ns was p e rhaps th e most e xtraord inary ge nius o f thos e who hade nde avour e d to d e a l with fiction as i l lustrative o f th e actua l e xpe ri e nc e so f l i fe . With Dicke ns th e r e s tood th e gr e at figur e o f Thacke ray, whohad l e ft a gr e at co l l e ction o f books , v e ry une qua l in th e ir qua l ity, b u tcontaining amongs t th e m som e o f th e fine st th ings e ve r writte n in th eEnglish tongue . T h e tw o gr e at h istor ians w e r e Macau lay and Froude .

To -day w e had no gr e at nove l ists . Wou ld anyon e sugge st w e had apoe t (Laugh te r . ) Afte r th e ye ar 1 8 60 th e r e we r e tw o gr e at name sin poe try— th e two Ross e ttis . Th e r e had b e e n no book produce d inth e last te n ye ars which cou ld comp e te with any on e o f th e books produc e d from 1 8 5 0 to

To th is Mr . Edmund Goss e r e pli e d a we e k late r at th e Dinne r ofth e Encyclopae dia Br itannica . H e r e minde d h is audi e nc e that e ve nth e most p e rsp icuous p e opl e in pas t tim e s had mad e th e grosse stblun de rs wh e n th e y judge d th e ir own age . L e t th e m r e me mbe r th eins e ns ibi lity o f Montaigne to th e me r its of a l l h is conte mporar i e s .In th e n e xt ag e ,

and in th e ir own country, B e n Jonson took occas ionat th e ve ry mome ntwh e n Shake sp e ar e was producing h is maste rpi e ce s

,

to lam e nt th e tota l d e cay o f po e try in Eng land . We could no t se e

th e tr e e s for th e wood b e hind th e m ,b ut w e ought to b e confide nt th e y

w e r e growing al l th e tim e .

Mr . Goss e also wrote to th e s e s on b e h al f of th e Pro fe ss iono f L e tte rs , r e minding Sir Edward o f th e nam e s o f Swinburne andWi l l iam Morr is , Hardy and Ste ve nson

,Cr e igh ton and Gardine r

,

and asking what wou ld b e th e fe e l ings of th e l e arne d ge ntl e man ifMe re dith or L e s li e Ste ph e n (o f whos e e xis te nc e h e was p e rhaps un awar e )shou ld p u t th e que stion in publ ic , Wou ld anyon e sugge st w e have anAdvocateSir Edward , in h is r e joinde r, had no di fficu lty in showing that Mr.

266 LE BYRO N DE N O S J OURS

Gosse ’s citation of Montaigne and Jonson was no t ve rba lly e xact.Mr. B irre l l adde d some comme nts which we re distingu ishe d by be ingprinte d in type Ofa mark e d ly d iffe r e nt s i z e .

To th e author of the s e l ine s , th e controve rs y app e ars '

so typica land so l ike ly to arise again

,that h e de s ir e s to r e cord, in howe ve r s l ight

a form,h is re co l le ction Of it, and his own pe rsona l bias , which is in

no de gre e l e sse ne d by r e conside ration afte r te n ye ars .

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268 N OTE S

Se rvice Orde r . Of th e thr e e hundre d Cliftonians who s e rve d in th ewar in South A fr ica , th irty w e r e ki l l e d in action and fourte e n di e d ofwounds or fe ve r .

Cli fton , r e me mbe r the se th y sons who fe llFighting far ove r se aFor the y in a dark hour r e me mbe r e d we llT h e ir war far e l e arne d of th e e .

!

Mor e than have s e rv e d in th e Gr e at War, of whom ove r 500have be e n k i l l e d in four ye ars . Th e ir honours ar e past count.

From th e gr e at Marsha l to th e last r e cruitT h e s e

,Cl ifton , we r e th y s e l f, th y spirit in de e d ,

Th y fl owe r of ch ivalry,th y fal l e n fru it,

An d thin e immorta l s e e d .

”

Th e Ech o — Th e ba llad was Th e Tw a S is te rs OfBinnorie , as se tby Arthur Som e rve ll .

S rcihmandciz i .— This ba l lad is found e d on mate r ials give n to th e

author by th e late Miss Mary Kings l e y on h e r r e turn from h e r lastvis it to th e Bantu p e op l e s o fWe st Africa . Th e songn e t, as de scribe dby h e r , r e s e mbl e s a long pi e ce of fish ing

-n e t folde d, and is carrie d b yth e Songman ove r h is shou lde r . Wh e n op e ne d and laid be fore anaudi e nc e ,

i t is s e e n to contain toke ns — such as a l e opard ’s paw,a

chi ld’s hair,a n e ckl e t

,or a dr i e d fish — s e wn firm ly to th e m e sh e s of

th e n e t. Th e s e form a k ind of s ymbo l ica l inde x to th e Songm an’

s

re p e rtory : th e aud i e nc e mak e th e ir choic e by la ying a hand uponany toke n which app e ars d e s irab l e . Th e last of th e toke ns is thatwh ich r e pr e s e nts th e Song of Dying or Song o f Srahm andaz i. I t isa shape le ss pi e c e Ofany substanc e ,

and is r e cogni z e d on ly by its positionin th e n e t. Th e song, b e ing uninte l l igibl e to th e l iving, is ne ve r aske dfor unti l th e mom e nt Ofd e ath .

Printe d by Haz e l l , Watson d: Vm e y , Ld London and Ay le sbury . England .

De aCld le d usmg th e Bookke e pe r proce ss .Ne utralizmg age nt Magne smmOxnde

Tre atme ntDate Apn!2009

Pre se rvationTe chnologie sAWORLDLEADERINCOLLECTIONS PRESERVATION

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