diff options
Diffstat (limited to '20370.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 20370.txt | 2771 |
1 files changed, 2771 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/20370.txt b/20370.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..09a9109 --- /dev/null +++ b/20370.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2771 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Rhymes of the East and Re-collected Verses, by +John Kendall (AKA Dum-Dum) + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Rhymes of the East and Re-collected Verses + +Author: John Kendall (AKA Dum-Dum) + +Release Date: January 15, 2007 [EBook #20370] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RHYMES OF THE EAST *** + + + + +Produced by Steven Gibbs, Sankar Viswanathan, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + Rhymes of the East + + AND + + Re-collected Verses + + + + BY D U M-D U M + + AUTHOR OF + 'AT ODD MOMENTS' + 'IN THE HILLS' + + + + LONDON + ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE + AND COMPANY, LTD. + 1905 + + + + + * * * * * + +TO + +MY MOTHER + + * * * * * + + + + +AUTHOR'S NOTE + + +Nearly all the verses that now make their first appearance in book +form are reprinted from _Punch_, by kind permission of Messrs. +Bradbury and Agnew. The rest I have taken from two little books that +were published in Bombay during my last (and, I suppose, final) tour +of service in India. They contained a good deal of work that was too +local or topical in interest to stand reproduction, and--especially +the elder, which is out of print--some that I would sooner bury than +perpetuate. The rest I have overhauled, and included in this +re-collection. + +Readers in, or of, India have been kind enough to regard my previous +efforts with favour. I hope that this little volume will find them no +less benevolently disposed, and that at the same time it may not be +without interest to those whose knowledge of the Shiny East is derived +from hearsay. + + * * * * * + + + + +CONTENTS + + +NOCTURNE WRITTEN IN AN INDIAN GARDEN, + +TO HIS PECULIAR FRIEND WITHIN-DOORS, + +VALEDICTION TO THE SS. 'ARABIA,' WHEN RETURNING WITH HER PASSENGERS +FROM THE DELHI DURBAR, + +A SOLDIER OF WEIGHT, + +ODE TO THE TIME-GUN OF GURRUMBAD, + +OMAR OUT OF DATE, + +ODE ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF EVER GETTING TO THE HILLS, + +A SOMBRE RETROSPECT, + +TO MANDALAY--GREETING, + +SONG OF BELLS, + +A BALLAD OF BUTTONRY, + +THE IRON HAND, + +THE WOOIN' O' TUMMAS, + +CHRISTMAS GREETINGS, + +'KAL!' + +TO AN ELEPHANT, + +VISIONARY, ON THE ADVANTAGES OF AN 'ASTRAL BODY,' + +SUMMER PORTENTS, +ELYSIUM, + +TO MY LADY OF THE HILLS, + +THE SHORES OF NOTHING, + +THE LAST HOCKEY, + +'FAREWELL' + +A HAPPY NEW YEAR, + +SAIREY, + +ADAM, + +ELEGY ON A RHINOCEROS, + +IN SEVERAL KEYS. NO. 1--'MARIE,' + +IN SEVERAL KEYS. NO. 2--THE BALLAD OF MORBID MOTHERS, + +THE STORY OF RUD., + +THE HAPPY ENDING + +STANZAS WRITTEN IN DEJECTION, + +THE FINEST VIEW, + +HAVEN, + + * * * * * + + + + +NOCTURNE WRITTEN IN AN INDIAN GARDEN + + 'Where ignorance is bliss, + 'Tis folly to be wise.' + + + The time-gun rolls his nerve-destroying bray; + The toiling moon rides slowly o'er the trees; + The weary diners cast their cares away, + And seek the lawn for coolness and for ease. + + Now spreads the gathering stillness like a pall, + And melancholy silence rules the scene, + Save where the bugler sounds his homing call, + And thirsty THOMAS leaves the wet canteen; + + Save that from yonder lines in deepest gloom + Th' ambiguous mule does of the stick[1] bewail, + Whose _dunder_ craft forbids him to consume + His proper blanket, or his neighbour's tail. + +[Footnote 1: The _dunder-stick_--an ingenious instrument devised to +defeat this extraordinary appetite.] + + Beneath those jagged tiles, that low-built roof + (Whose inmost secret deeps let none divine!), + Each to his master's cry supremely proof, + The Aryan Brothers of our household dine. + + Let not Presumption mock their joyless pile,-- + The cold boiled rice, in native butter greased; + Nor scorn, with rising gorge and painful smile, + The cheap but filling flapjacks of the East. + + Full many a gem of highest Art-cuisine + Those dark unfathomed dogmatists eschew; + Full many a 'dish to set before the Queen' + Would waste its sweetness on the mild Hindoo. + + Nor you, their lords, expect of these the toil, + When o'er their minds a soft oblivion steals, + And through the long-drawn hookah's pliant coil + They soothe their senses, and digest their meals. + + For Knowledge to their ears her ample store, + Rich with the latest news, does then impart, + Whose source, when known, shall chill you to the core, + And freeze the genial cockles of the heart. + + For once, to dumb Neglectfulness a prey, + Resentment led me undetected near, + To know the reason of this cool delay, + And teach my trusty pluralist to hear. + + There to my vassals' ruminating throng + Some total stranger, seated on a pail, + Perused, translating as he went along, + My private letters by the current mail. + + One moment, horror baulked my strong intent; + Next o'er the compound wall we saw him go, + While uncouth moan, with hapless gesture blent, + Deplored the pressing tribute of the toe. + + +THE MORAL + + To you, fresh youths, with round unblushing cheeks, + Some moral tag this closing verse applies; + E'en from the old the voice of Wisdom speaks-- + Even the youngest are not always wise! + + No further seek to probe the Best Unknown, + From Exploration's curious arts refrain; + Lest Melancholy mark you for her own, + And you should learn--nor ever smile again. + + + + +TO HIS PECULIAR FRIEND WITHIN-DOORS + +_After R. H._ + + + A strong discomfort in the dress + Dwindling the clothes to nothingness + Saving, for due decorum placed, + A huckaback about the waist, + Or wanton towel-et, whose touch + Haply may spare to chafe o'ermuch: + A languid frame, from head to feet + Prankt in the arduous prickle-heat: + An erring fly, that here and there + Enwraths the crimsoned sufferer: + An upward toe, whose skill enjoys + The slipper's curious equipoise: + A punkah wantoning, whereby + Papers do flow confoundedly: + By such comportment, and th' offence + Of thy fantastic eloquence, + Dost thou, my WILLIAM, make it known + That thou art warm, and best alone. + + + + +VALEDICTION + +TO THE SS. 'ARABIA,' WHEN RETURNING WITH HER PASSENGERS FROM THE DELHI +DURBAR + + + Now the busy screw is churning, + Now the horrid sirens blow; + Now are India's guests returning + Home from India's Greatest Show; + Now the gleeful Asiatic + Speeds them on their wild career, + And, though normally phlegmatic, + Gives a half-unconscious cheer. + + India's years were years of leanness, + Till the Late Performance drew + These, whose confidential greenness + She has run for all she knew. + Gladly rose the land to bid them + Welcome for a fleeting spell-- + Nobly took them in and did them-- + And has done extremely well. + + Peace be theirs, important Packet, + Genial skies and happy calms-- + No derogatory racket, + No humiliating qualms! + Gales, I charge you, shun to rouse and + Lash the seas to angry foam, + While Britannia's Great Ten Thousand + Sweep, with huge enjoyment, home! + + Let the spiced and salty zephyr + Build them up in frame and mind, + Till they feel as fresh and effer- + vescent as their hearts are kind, + And in triumph close their Indian + Tour on far Massilia's quay, + Never having known too windy an + Offing, too disturbed a sea. + + So, when English snows are falling, + When the fogs are growing dense, + They shall hear the East a-calling, + And shall come, and blow expense. + Every year shall bring his Argo; + Every year a grateful East + Shall receive her golden Cargo, + And restore the Gilded--Fleeced! + + + + +A SOLDIER OF WEIGHT + + + In the dim and distant ages, in the half-forgotten days, + Ere the East became the fashion and an Indian tour the craze, + Lived a certain Major-General, renowned throughout the State + As a soldier of distinction and considerable weight. + + But though weightiness of mind is an invaluable trait, + When applied to adiposity it's all the other way; + And our hero was confronted with an ever-growing lack + Of the necessary charger and the hygienic hack. + + He had bought them by the dozen, he had tried them by the score, + But not one of them was equal to the burden that he bore; + They were conscious of the honour, they were sound in wind and limb, + They could carry a cathedral, but they drew the line at _him_. + + But he stuck to it, till finally his pressing needs were filled + By the mammoth of his species, a Leviathan in build, + A superb upstanding brown, of unexceptionable bone, + And phenomenally qualified to carry twenty stone. + + And the General was happy; for the noble creature showed + An unruffled acquiescence with the nature of his load; + Till without the slightest warning, that superb upstanding brown + Thought it time to make a protest, which he did by lying down. + + They appealed to him, reproached him, gave him sugar, cut his feed, + But in vain; for almost daily that inexorable steed, + When he heard his master coming, looked insultingly around, + And with cool deliberation laid him down upon the ground. + + But they fought it out between them, till the undefeated brute + Made a humorous obeisance at the General Salute! + Then his owner kicked him wildly in the stomach for his pranks, + Said he'd stand the beast no longer, and returned him to the ranks. + +(_An interval of about three years._) + + Time has dulled our hero's anguish; time has raised our man of weight + To an even higher office in the service of the State; + And we find him at his yearly tour, inspecting at his ease + A distinguished corps of cavalry, the Someone's Own D. G.'s. + + And our fat but famous man of war, accoutred to the nines, + Was engaged in making rude remarks, and going round the lines, + When he suddenly beheld across an intervening space + A Leviathan of horseflesh, the Behemoth of his race. + + 'Colonel Robinson,' he shouted, with enthusiastic force, + 'A remarkably fine horse, sir!' The remarkably fine horse + Gave a reminiscent shudder, looked insultingly around, + And with cold deliberation laid him down upon the ground! + + + + +ODE TO THE TIME-GUN OF GURRUMBAD + + [Time-guns are of invariable pattern and extreme antiquity. + Other species come and go; their ancestor remains always. One + is to be found in each cantonment: he generally occupies a + position of unsheltered and pathetic loneliness in a corner + of the local parade-ground. The writer has never seen one + herded in the Gun-park with his kind.] + + + Strong scion of the sturdy past + When simpler methods ruled the fray, + At whose demoralising blast + The stoutest foe recoiled aghast, + How fall'n art thou to-day! + + Thy power the little children mock; + Thy voice, that shook the serried line, + But supplements the morning cock + At--roughly speaking--one o'clock, + And--broadly--half-past nine. + + (Saving when THOMAS' deep employ + Th' attendant closing hour postpones, + And he, the undefeated boy, + To gain a temporary joy, + Hath stuffed thee up with stones.) + + Thy kindred of a mushroom 'Mark,' + Young guns, intolerably spruce, + Have cast thee from the social 'park'; + Which, to their humbled patriarch, + Must be the very deuce. + + Their little toils with leisure crowned, + They, in their turn, will seek the Vale + Of Rest that thou hast never found; + What wonder if thy daily Round + Is very like a Wail? + + Yet many love thee. Though his clutch + Be heavy, Time doth still afford + That fine consolatory touch-- + It hardly seems to go for much, + But cannot be ignored. + + For him that braves the midday fare + Thou hast the immemorial task + Of booming forth at one--or there- + abouts--which saves the wear and tear + Of yelling out to ask. + + So, when athwart the glooming flats + Thy hoarse, nocturnal whispers stray-- + Much to the horror of the bats-- + We're one day nearer home, and that's + A comfort, anyway! + + Then courage! Guns may come and go, + But him alone we hold divine + Whose task it is to let us know + The hours of one o'clock--or so-- + And--roundly--half-past nine. + + + + +OMAR OUT OF DATE + +BY A RENEGADE DISCIPLE + + + Wake! for Reveillee scatters into flight + The flagging Rearguard of a ruined Night, + And hark! the meagre Champion of the Roost + Has flung a matins to the Throne of Light. + + Here, while the first beam smites the sullen Sky, + With silent feet Hajam comes stealing nigh, + Bearing the Brush, the Vessel, and the Blade, + These sallow cheeks of mine to scarify. + + How often, oh, how often have I sworn + Myself myself to shave th' ensuing Morn! + And then--and then comes Guest-night, and Hajam + Appears unbidden, and is gladly borne. + + Come, fill the Cup! The nerve-restoring Ti + Shall woo me with the Leaf of far Bohi; + What matter that to some the Koko makes + Appeal, to some the Cingalese Kofi? + + For in a minute Toil, that ever thrives, + Awaits me with her Shackles and her Gyves, + And ever crieth Folly in the streets: + 'To work! for needs ye must when Shaitan drives.' + + Alas! that I did yesternight disport + With certain fellows of the baser Sort, + Unheedful of the living consequence + When Drinks are long, and Pockets all too short! + + With them the game of Poka did I play, + And in wild session turned the Night to Day; + And many a Chip I dropped upon the Board, + And many a Moistener poured upon the Clay. + + I put my Pile against th' Improbable, + And with a Full Hand thought to make it swell; + And this was all the Profit that I reaped: + A Full of Kings is Heaven--and Fours are Hell! + + Then to the Mountain Dew I turned to seek + New courage for the Vengeance I should wreak; + And once again came Fours, again the Flesh + Was willing, and the Spirits far from weak. + + * * * * * + + _O Friend of pseudo-philosophic Calm, + Who found within the Cup a life's Aram, + Thy counsel, howsoever fair to read, + Were passing bad to follow, friend Khayyam!_ + + _Was it not Suleiman the Wise that said: + Look not upon the Wine when it is red? + And Suleiman the Wise knew What was Which, + Though that great Heart of his outmatched his Head!_ + + * * * * * + + Ah! with the Pledge a Door of Refuge ope + To wean my footsteps from the facile Slope, + And write me down, fulfilled of Self-esteem, + A Prop and Pillar of the Band of Hope; + + That in the Club, should whilom Comrades try + To lure me to a Roister on the sly, + The necessary Zeal I may not lack + To turn away, nor wink the Other Eye! + + + + +ODE + +ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF EVER GETTING TO THE HILLS + +_After T. G._ + + + Ye distant Hills, ye smiling glades, + In decent foliage drest, + Where green Sylvanus proudly shades + The Sirkar's haughty crest, + And ye, that in your wider reign + Like bold adventurers disdain + The limit set for common clay, + Whose luck, whose pen, whose power of song, + Distinguish from the vulgar throng + To walk the flowery way: + + Ah happy Hills! Ah genial sky! + Ah Goal where all would end! + Where once, and only once, did I + Go largely on the bend; + E'en now the tales that from ye flow + A fragmentary bliss bestow, + Till, once again a doedal boy, + In dreaming dimly of the first + I seem to take a second burst, + And snatch a tearful joy. + + But tell me, Jakko, dost thou see + The same old sprightly crew + Disport with unembarrassed glee, + As we were wont to do? + What youth, in brazen armour cased, + With pliant arm the yielding waist + To arduous dalliance ensnares? + Who, foremost of his peers, exalts + The labours of the devious waltz + By sitting out the squares? + + Does Prudence, gentle Matron, force + On Folly in her 'teens + The value of a stalking-horse + When hunting Rank and Means? + And is the Summer Widow's mind + Aggrieved and horrified to find + That, as her male acquaintance grows, + Her female circle pass her by + With Innuendo's outraged eye, + And Virtue's injured nose? + + Lo, in the Vale of Tears beneath + A grilling troop is seen + Whom Failure gnaws with rankling teeth, + While Envy turns them green. + This racks the head, that scars the pelt, + These bore beneath the ample belt, + Those in the deeper vitals burn: + Lo, Want of Leave, to fill the cup, + Hath drunken all our juices up, + And topped the whole concern. + + To each his billet; some succeed, + And some are left to groan; + The latter serve their country's need, + The former serve their own. + Then let the maiden try her wing, + The youth enjoy his roomy fling, + The Single Matron dry her eyes! + As Fate is blind, and Life is short, + If Ignorance can give them sport, + 'Twere folly to be wise. + + + + +A SOMBRE RETROSPECT + + + Long, long ago, in that heroic time + When I, a coy and modest youth, was shot + Out on this dust-heap of careers and crime + To try and learn what's what, + + I had a servitor, a swarthy knave, + Who showed an almost irreligious taste + For wearing nothing but a turban, save + A rag about the waist. + + This apparition gave me such a start, + That I endowed him with a cast-off pair + Of inexpressibles, and said, 'Depart, + And be no longer bare.' + + He took the offering with broken thanks; + But day succeeded day, and still revealed + Those sombre and attenuated shanks + Intensely unconcealed; + + Until at last the climax came when I + Resolved to bring this matter to an end, + And when I saw him passing, shouted, 'Hi! + Where are your trousers, friend?' + + Halting, he gave a deferential bow; + Then, to my horror, beamingly replied, + 'Master not see? I wearing trousers _now_!' + I would have said he lied, + + But could not. As I shaped the glowing phrase, + I looked upon his turban--looked again-- + Mine own familiar pattern met my gaze, + And all the truth was plain! + + Th' unhappy creature, Eastern to the core, + Holding my gift in superstitious dread, + Had made a turban out of it, and wore + His trousers--_on his head_! + + + + +TO MANDALAY--GREETING + +(BY WALTYARD WHIPMING) + + +I + + A song of Mandalay! + Allons, Camerados, Desperadoes, Amontillados! + Hear my Recitative, my Romanza, my Spring Onion! + + +II + + You three-striped sergeants, you corporals, non-commissioned officers, + and men with one or more good-conduct badges, + You indifferent and bad characters, am I not also one with you? + And will you not then hear my song? + This for prelude. + + +III + + You, O Mandalay, I sing! + For I see the pagoda, the Moulmein and essentially wotto pagoda, + And the pagoda is above the trees, + But the trees are below the pagoda. + + +IV + + I see the flying-fish sitting on the branches, I hear them sing, + and they fly and mate and build their nests in the branches; + I see a dun-coloured aboriginal she-female, mongolianee, petite, + squat-faced, + And she has a cast in her sinister optic and a snub nose but her + heart is true; + And I gaze into her heart (which is true), and I find that she is + musing (as indeed I often muse) on ME, + Me Prononce, Me Imperturbe, Me Inconscionabilamente. + + +V + + I see [_a page or so unavoidably omitted for lack of space,--refer + to guide-book_] and ... the wind, and the palm-trees idly swaying + to and fro in the wind (now to, now fro), and I hear the bells of + a temple, and I know that they are singing, and what it is that + they would say. + + +VI + + What is it that they would say do you ask Me? + + +VII + + How shall I tell you, how shall I make you understand? + For I know that you do not love Me, you do not comprehend Me, you + say that this sort of thing does you harm; + But I will even now do my darndest (as indeed I always do more or + less), and if you do not like it, + Waal, Soldados? + + +VIII + + Behold, I will write it as a song and put it in italics, so that + even _you_ will know that it _is_ a song; + So listen, listen, Camerados! for I am about to spout and my song + shall be masculine and virile. _A bas_ your metre, _a la lanterne_ + your rhyme, _conspuez_ your punctuation, + I say pooh-pooh! + + + + +SONG OF BELLS + + + _Allons! Allons! Tra-la-la! Hear my Bellata! + Why do you not return to Mandalay O soldier? + Do you not remember the boats, and the paddles as they chunked + outside the boats? + Do you not remember the elephants, the mighty elephants, strong, + mysterious, impalpable (no, not impalpable), pachydermatous, and + the extraordinary accuracy with which they succeeded in balancing + trees or parts of trees, branches, logs, beams, planks, ... + etc., ... with their trunks (the beams carefully supported at their + centre of gravity, the logs carefully supported at their centre of + gravity, the elephants without a smile at_ their _centre of + gravity) + From Rangoon to Mandalay?_ + +_For--_ + + _On the road to Mandalay the flying-fishes play, + But there are no omnibuses to ply. + Is there not a thirst here, and are there any ten commandments? + O you commandments! you first, second, third ... and tenth + commandments! + What has Mandalay to do with you, and what have you to do with + Mandalay?_ + +_Ha! What is that?_ + + _Is it a sound, is it the thunder, the sudden thunder, strepitant, + tonant? + Is it the midday (twelve o'clock) cannon?_ + +_ No!_ + + _Is it not then the ocean, the storm of the ocean?_ + +_ Divil a bit!_ + + _Return, return then O soldiers, + Return, you that have been discharged with pensions, as time-expired + men, or as incorrigible and worthless, + Return, for it is the dawn, and it is calling to you as it comes up + from China, + Though why from China do you ask me? + Then ask me another!_ + + + + +A BALLAD OF BUTTONRY + + + _Clothes and the Man I sing._ Reformers, note + These of the Subaltern who owned a Coat. + + He was what veterans miscall, for short, + By that objectionable term, a wart:[2] + + The Coat an item of the 'sealed' attire + Wrung from his helpless but reluctant sire; + + Also the tails were long; and, for the pride + Thereof, were buttons on the after-side; + + Majestic orbs, whose gilded obverse bore + The bossy symbol of his future corps. + + The youth, ere sailing for a distant land, + Did, in the interval, receive command + +[Footnote 2: A last-joined young officer.--_Military Definitions._] + + To join a 'Course,' where men of grave repute + Instruct the young idea how to shoot. + + Thither he sped, and on the opening day + Rose, and, empanoplied in brave array, + + (Ample of flowing skirt, and with great craft + And pomp of blazoned buttonry abaft) + + Won to the mess, and preened his fledgling plumes + Both in the breakfast and the ante-rooms. + + Awhile he moved in rapture, and awhile + Thrilled in the old, inevitable style + + To that stern joy which youthful warriors feel + In wearing garments worthy of their zeal; + + Then came the seneschal upon the scenes, + And knocked his infant pride to smithereens. + + For out, alack! the Fathers of the mess + Strictly prohibited that form of dress, + + Being by sad experience led to find + Disaster in the buttonry behind, + + Which tore and scratched the leather-cushioned chairs, + And cost a perfect fortune in repairs! + + It was a crushing blow. That Subaltern + Discovered that he had a lot to learn; + + Removed his Coat, and laid it, weeping, in + Its long sarcophagus of beaten tin: + + Buried it deep, and drew it thence no more; + Finished his Course, and sought an alien shore. + + * * * * * + + So runs the tale. I had it from the youth + Himself, and I suppose he told the truth. + + (The words alone are mine; I need but hint + That his were too emotional for print.) + + And as in India, though the chairs are hard, + His Coat--delicious irony--is barred; + + Being designed for cooler zones, and not + For one inadequately known as 'hot'; + + And, furthermore, as bold Sir Fashion brings + Changes, yea, even to the soldier's things: + + He questions if the Coat were worth the price, + Seeing that he will hardly wear it twice. + + + + +THE IRON HAND + + 'The Government of India _has been pleased_ to sanction the + infliction of a fine of ..., etc.' + + + To him that reads with careless eyes + My present theme affords + But little scope for enterprise + In buttering one's lords: + Fines, he would urge, have always bulked + Largely to Those that rule, + For, plainly, every man They mulct + Contributes to the pool. + + But when in ages dead and gone + Our fathers fought with Sin, + However hard they laid it on, + They didn't rub it in; + While These not only bring to bear + Their dark prerogatives, + But diabolically air + The pleasure that it gives! + + Here is the Iron Hand that builds + Our realms beyond the sea; + No _suaviter in modo_ gilds + Their _fortiter in re_; + Here is no washy velvet glove + To pad the Fist of Fear-- + None of your guiding charms of Love-- + None of your hogwash here! + + No. From Their thrones amid the stars + They glower athwart the land + Implacable, with 'eye like Mars + To threaten and command.' + Too cold, too truculent, to stay + The awful bolt They fling, + They make no bones about it--They + Are _pleased_ to do this thing! + + Blind to the victim's mask of woe, + Deaf to his poignant howls, + No pity stirs Their bosoms, no + Reluctance wrings Their bow'ls! + By prompt and ready cash alone + Their wrath shall be appeased + Who pile it on like gods, and own, + Like men, to being pleased. + + + + +THE WOOIN' O' TUMMAS + +_After R. B._ + + + Tummas Katt cam' roun' to woo, + Ha, ha, the wooin' o't; + Lichtly sang ta lang nicht thro', + Ha, ha, the mewin' o't; + Tabbie, winsome, tim'rous beast, + Speakit: 'Tummas, hand tha' weist! + Girt auld Tummas 'gan inseest; + Ha, ha, the doin' o't! + + Tabbie laucht, an' brawly fleired, + Ha, ha, the fleirin' o't; + Tummas,--ech! but Tummas speired + Ha, ha, the speirin' o't; + Sic an awesome, fearfu' screep, + Wakin' a' aroun' frae sleep; + Fegs, it gar'd the Gudeman weep! + Ha, ha, the hearin' o't! + + Quoth the Gudeman: 'Dairm his een!' + Ha, ha, the swearin' o't; + 'Muckle fasht was I yestreen, + A' thro' the bearin' o't! + Ere the sonsie moon was bricht, + Clean awa' till mornin' licht, + Mickle sleep was mine the nicht; + Ha, ha, the wearin' o't!' + + 'Where are noo ma booties twa? + Ha, ha, the stoppin' o't; + 'Tis mysel' shall gar him fa'; + Ha, ha, the coppin' o't! + 'Gin a bootie, strang an' stoot, + Sneckit Tummas roun' ta snoot, + Winna Tummas gang frae oot? + Ha, ha, the droppin' o't!' + + Swuft the pawky booties came, + Ha, ha, the flittin' o't: + Tummas scraught, an' lit for hame, + Ha, ha, the spittin' o't; + Lauchit Tabbs to see him fa'; + Leapit frae ta gairden wa'; + Quoth the Gudeman: 'Dairm it a'! + What price the hittin' o't?' + + + + +CHRISTMAS GREETINGS + + + Christmas comes but once a year. + Though by nature snappy, + Let us, as we may, appear + Merry, friend, and happy! + Buckle to; and when you meet your + Thunderstricken fellow-creature, + Show the broad, indulgent smile + Of th' ingenuous crocodile! + Look as if you'd backed a winner! + Laugh, you miserable sinner! + + Brother, Christmas Day has come. + Can't you seek for inspi- + ration in the turkey, plum- + pudding, beef, and mince-pie? + Brave it out, and tho' you sit on + Tenterhooks, remain a Briton; + You can only do your best; + Boxing Day's a day of rest! + Throw aside your small digestive + Eccentricities. Be festive! + + Christmas Day is on the wing. + Are you feeling wroth with + Any one for anything? + Beg his pardon _forth_with! + Though the right is all on _your_ side, + Say it isn't; say 'Of course I'd + No intention--very rude-- + Shocking taste--but misconstrued'-- + Then (while I admit it's horri- + fying) tell the man you're sorry! + + Christmas Day will soon have flown. + If, despite persuasion, + You resolve to be alone + On the glad occasion, + Better (do as I have done!) + Vanish with a scatter-gun; + If you have to see it through, + (Better do what I shall do!) + Dining quietly at the Club'll + Save us from a world of trouble! + + + + +'KAL!' + +(=TO-MORROW) + + ['Never do To-day what can be postponed till To-morrow, save + at the dictates of your personal convenience.'--_Maxims of + the Wicked_, No. 3.] + + + Sweet Word, by whose unwearying assistance + We of the Ruling Race, when sorely tried, + Can keep intrusive persons at a distance, + And let unseasonable matters slide; + Thou at whose blast the powers of irritation + Yield to a soft and gentlemanly lull + Of solid peace and flat Procrastination, + These to thy praise and honour, good old Kal! + + For we are greatly plagued by sacrilegious + Monsters in human form, who care for naught + Save with incessant papers to besiege us, + E'en to the solemn hour of silent thought; + They draw no line; the frightful joy of giving + Pain is their guerdon; but for Thee alone, + Life would be hardly worth the bore of living, + No one could call his very soul his own. + + But in thy Name th' importunate besetter + Meets a repelling force that none can stem; + Varlets may come (they do) and go (they'd better!), + Kal is the word that always does for them! + _To-morrow_ they may join the usual muster; + To-day shall pass inviolably by; + BEELZEBUB Himself, for all his bluster, + Would get the same old sickening reply. + + And, for thine aid in baffling the malignant, + Who, with unholy art, conspire to see + Our ease dis-eased, our dignity indignant, + We do Thee homage on the bended knee. + And I would add a word of common gratitude + To those thy coadjutors, _ao_ and _lao_,[3] + Who take, with Thee, th' uncompromising attitude + From which the dullest mind deduces _jao_. + +[Footnote 3: _Kal-ao_='return to-morrow'; _kal-lao_='bring it back +to-morrow.' Each of these phrases is the euphemistic equivalent of +_jao_, that is, 'go away, (and stay there).'] + + + + +TO AN ELEPHANT + +ON HIS TONIC QUALITIES + + + Solace of mine hours of anguish, + Peace-imparting View, when I, + Sick of Hindo-Sturm-und-Drang, wish + I could lay me down and die, + + Very present help in trouble, + Never-failing anodyne + For the blows that knock us double, + Here's towards thee, Hathi mine! + + As, 'tis said, the dolorous Jack Tar + Turns to view the watery Vast, + When he mourns his frail charac-tar, + Or deplores his jagged Past, + + Climbs a cliff, and breathes his sighs on + That appalling breast until, + Borne from off the far horizon, + Voices whisper, 'Cheer up, Bill!' + + So when evil chance or dark as- + persions crush the bosom's lord, + When discomfort rends the car-cass, + When we're sorry, sick, or bored, + + When the year is at its hottest, + And our life with sorrow crowned, + Gazing thee-wards, where thou blottest + Out the landscape, pulls us round, + + Gives us peace, some nameless modi- + cum of cheer to mind and eye: + Something that can soothe a body + Like a blessed lullaby. + + Sweet it is to watch thee, Hathi, + Through the stertorous afternoons, + Wond'ring why so stout a party + Wears such baggy pantaloons: + + Sweet, again, to steal a-nigh and + Watch thee, ere thy meals begin, + Deftly weigh th' unleavened viand, + Lest thou be deceived therein: + + Sweet to mark thee gravely dining: + Grand, when day has nearly gone, + 'Tis to view yon Orb declining + Down behind thee, broadside on: + + Ay! and when thy vassals tub thee, + And thou writhest 'neath the brick + Wherewithal they take and scrub thee, + 'Twere a sight to heal the sick! + + Not a pose but serves to ward off + Pangs that had of yore prevailed; + E'en the stab of being scored off + Owns the charm, old Double-Tailed! + + But, O Thou that giv'st the flabby + Strength, and stingo'st up the weak:- + Restful as a grand old Abbey-- + Bracing as a Mountain Peak:-- + + All the bonds of Age were slackened, + And my years were out of sight, + When I burst upon thy back end + As thou kneeled'st yesternight! + + Head and frame were hidden. Only + Loomed a black, colossal Seat, + Taut, magnificent, and lonely, + O'er a pair of suppliant feet + + To th' astounded mind conveying + Dreams from which my manhood shrank, + Of a very fat man praying, + Whom a boy would love to spank. + + And I felt my fingers twitching, + And my sinews turned to wire, + And my palm was itching, itching, + With the old, unhallowed fire. + + While the twofold voice within me + Urged their long-forgotten feud, + One to do thee shame would win me,-- + One that whispered, 'Don't be rude!' + + Till, by heaven! thy pleading beauty + Drove those carnal thoughts away, + And the friend that came to scruti- + nise was left behind to pray:-- + + For I shamed thee not, nor spanked thee; + But to rearward, on the plain, + Hathi, on my knees I thanked thee + That I felt a boy again! + + + + +VISIONARY + +ON THE ADVANTAGES OF AN 'ASTRAL BODY' + + + It is told, in Buddhi-theosophic Schools + There are rules + By observing which when mundane matter irks, + Or the world has gone amiss, you + Can incontinently issue + From the circumscribing tissue + Of your Works. + + That the body and the gentleman inside + Can divide, + And the latter, if acquainted with the plan, + Can alleviate the tension + By remaining 'in suspension' + As a kind of fourth dimension + Bogie man. + + And to such as mourn an Indian Solar Crime + At its prime, + 'Twere a stratagem so luminously fit, + That tho' doctrinaires deny it, + And Academicians guy it, + I, for one, would like to try it + For a bit. + + Just to leave one's earthly tenement asleep + In a heap, + And detachedly to watch it as it lies, + With an epidermis pickled + Where the prickly heat has prickled, + And a sense of being tickled + By the flies. + + And to sit and loaf and idle till the day + Dies away, + In a duplicate ethereally cool, + Or around the place to potter, + (Tho' the flesh could hardly totter,) + As contented as an otter + In a pool! + + 'Let the pestilent mosquito do his worst + Till he burst, + Let him bore and burrow, morning, noon, and night, + If he finds the diet sweet, oh, + Who am _I_ to place a veto + On the pestilent mosquito?-- + _Let_ him bite!' + + O my cumbersome misfit of bone and skin, + Could I win + To the wisdom that would render me exempt + From the grosser bonds that tether + You and Astral Me together, + I should simply treat the weather + With contempt; + + I should contemplate its horrors with entire + Lack of ire, + And pursuant to my comfortable aim, + With a snap at every shackle + I should quit my tabernacle, + And serenely sit and cackle + At the game! + + But, alas! the 'mystic glory swims away,' + And the clay + Is as vulgarly persistent as of yore, + And the cuticle is pickled + Where the prickly heat has prickled, + And the nose and ears are tickled + As before; + + And until the Buddhi-theosophic Schools + Print the rules + That will bring our tale of sorrows to a close, + Body mine, though others chide thee, + And consistently deride thee, + I shall have to stay inside thee, + I suppose! + + + + +SUMMER PORTENTS + + + Come, let us quaff the brimming cup + Of sorrow, bitterness, and pain; + For clearly, things are warming up + Again. + + Observe with what awakened powers + The vulgar Sun resumes the right + Of rising in the hallowed hours + Of night. + + Bound to the village water-wheel, + The motive bullock bows his crest, + And signals forth a mute appeal + For rest. + + His neck is galled beneath the yoke: + His patient eyes are very dim: + Life is a dismal sort of joke + To _him_. + + Yet one there is, to whom the ox + Is kin; who knows, as habitat, + The cold, unsympathetic box, + Or mat; + + Who urges on, with wearied arms, + The punkah's rhythmic, laboured sweep, + Nor dares to contemplate the charms + Of sleep. + + Now 'mid a host of lesser things + That pasture through the heaving nights, + The sharp mosquito flaps his wings, + And bites; + + With other Anthropophagi, + Such as that microscopic brand + The common Sand-fly (or the fly + Of sand), + + Who, with a hideous lust uncurbed + By clappings of the frequent palm, + Devours one's ankles, undisturbed, + And calm. + + The scorpion nips one unaware: + The lizard flops upon the head: + And cobras, uninvited, share + One's bed. + + Oh, if I only had the luck + To feel the grand Olympic fire + That thrilled the Greater when they struck + The lyre! + + When Homer wrote of this and that: + When Dante sang like one possessed: + When Milton groaned and laboured at + His Best! + + Had I the swelling rise and fall, + Whereof the Bo'sun's quivering moan + Derives a breezy fragrance all + Its own: + + Oh, I would pour such passion out-- + Good gracious me!--I would so sing + That you should know the _facts_ about + This thing! + + Then w-w-wake, my Lyre! O halting lilt! + O miserable, broken lay! + It may not be: I am not built + That way. + + Yet other gifts the gods bestow. + I do not weep, I do not grieve. + Far from it. I shall simply go + On leave. + + + + +ELYSIUM + + + From the dust, and the drought, and the heat, + I am borne on the pinions of leave, + From the things that are bad to repeat + To the things that are good to receive. + + From the glare of the day at its height + On a land that was blinding to see, + From the wearisome hiss of the night, + By a turn of the wheel I am free. + + I have passed to the heart of the Hills, + For a season of halcyon hours, + 'Mid the music of murmurous rills, + And the delicate odours of flowers; + + And I walk in an exquisite shade, + Where the fern-tasselled boughs interlace; + And the verdurous fringe of the glade + Is a marvel of fairylike grace; + + And with never an aim or a plan + I can wander in uttermost ease, + Where the only reminders of Man + Are the monkeys aloft in the trees; + + Or, perchance, on the 'silvery mere,' + In a 'shallop' I lazily float, + With--it's possible--some one to steer, + Or with no one (which lightens the boat). + + O the glorious gift of release + From the chains that encircle the thrall, + To be quiet, and cool, and at peace, + And to loaf, and do nothing at all! + + I am clear of that infamous lark; + I am far from the blare of the Band; + And the bugles are silent, the bark + Of the Colonel is hushed in the land. + + And--I say it again--I am free, + In the valleys of wandering bliss; + And most gratefully 'own, if there _be_ + An Elysium on earth, it is this!' + + + + +TO MY LADY OF THE HILLS + + '... O she, + To me myself, for some three careless moons, + The summer pilot of an empty heart + Unto the shores of Nothing.'--_Tennyson_. + + + 'Tis the hour when golden slumbers + Through th' Hesperian portals creep, + And the youth who lisps in numbers + Dreams of novel rhymes to 'sleep'; + _I_ shall merely note, at starting, + That responsive Nature thrills + To the _twilight_ hour of parting + From my Lady of the Hills. + + Lady, 'neath the deepening umbrage + We have wandered near and far, + To the ludicrously dumb rage + Of your truculent Mamma; + We have urged the long-tailed gallop; + Lightly danced the still night through; + Smacked the ball, and oared the shallop + (In a vis-a-vis canoe); + + We have walked this fair Oasis, + Keeping, more by skill than chance, + To the non-committal basis + Of indefinite romance; + Till, as love within me ripened, + I have wept the hours away, + Brooding on my meagre stipend, + Mourning mine exiguous pay. + + Dear, 'tis hard, indeed, to stifle + Fervour such as mine has grown, + And I 'd freely give a trifle + Could I win you for mine own; + But the question simply narrows + Down to one persistent fact, + That we cannot say we're sparrows, + And we oughtn't so to act. + + Married bliss is born of incomes; + While to drag the long years through + Till some hypothetic tin comes, + Seems a childish thing to do; + Rather let us own as lasting + Our unpardonable crime, + Giving thanks, with prayer and fasting, + For so very high a time. + + Fare you well. Your dreadful Mother, + If I know that woman's mind, + Has her eye upon Another + _Vice_ me, my dear, resigned; + And I see you mated shortly + To some covenanted swain, + Not objectionably portly, + Not prohibitively plain. + + Take his gifts, and ask a blessing. + Meddle not with minor cares. + Trust me, your unprepossessing + Dam soon settles those affairs! + Then will I, with honeyed suasion, + Pinch some thriftless man of bills + Of a mark of the occasion + For my Lady of the Hills. + + + + +THE SHORES OF NOTHING + + + There's a little lake that lies + In a valley, where the skies + Kiss the mountains, as they rise, + On the crown; + And the heaven-born elite + Are accustomed to retreat + From the pestilential heat + Lower down. + + Where the Mighty, for a space, + Mix with Beauty, Rank, and Grace, + (I myself was in the place, + At my best!) + And the atmosphere's divine, + While the deodar and pine + Are particularly fine + For the chest. + + And a little month ago, + When the sun was lying low, + And the water lay aglow + Like a pearl, + I, remarkably arrayed, + Dipped an unobtrusive blade + In the lake--and in the shade-- + With a girl. + + O 'twas pleasant thus to glide + On the 'softly-flowing tide' + (Which it's not!) and, undescried, + Take a hand + In the sweet, idyllic sports + That are known in such resorts, + To the sympathetic snorts + Of the Band. + + Till, when o'er the 'still lagoon' + Passed the golden afternoon, + The preposterous bassoon, + Growling deep, + Saved the King and knelled the day + As the crimson changed to grey + And the little valley lay + Half asleep. + + It is finished. She was kind. + 'Out of sight is out of mind.' + But the taste remains behind, + (And the bills,) + And I'd give the world to know + If there's some one else in tow + With my love (a month ago) + In the Hills! + + O ye valleys, tell me, pray, + Was she on the lake to-day? + Does she foot it in the gay, + Social whirl? + O ye Mountains of Gilboa, + Send a bird, or kindly blow a + Breeze to tell me all you know a- + bout that girl! + + + + +THE LAST HOCKEY + +_After A. T._ + + + So for the last great Hockey of the Hills, + --Damsel _v._ Dame--by ruder cynics called + The Tournament of the Dead Dignities, + We gained the lists, and I, thro' humorous lens, + Perused the revels. Here on autumn grass + Leapt the lithe-elbowed Spin, and strongly merged + In scrimmage with the comfortable Wife + And temporary Widow,--know you not, + Such trifles are the merest commonplace + In loftier contours?--Twenty-two in all + They numbered, and none other trod the field + Save one, the bold Sir Referee, whose charge + It was to keep fair order in the lists, + And peace 'twixt Dame and Damsel: married, he. + + O brothers, had ye seen them! O the games! + Fleet-footed some: lightly they leapt, and drave + Or missed the pellet; then, perchance, would turn + With hand that sought their tresses. Others moved + Careless, in half disdain, nor urged pursuit; + Yet ever and anon would shriek, and miss + The pellet, while the bold Sir Referee + Skipt in avoidance. From the factions came + The cry of voices shrilling woman-wise, + The clash of stick on stick, the muffled shin, + The sudden whistle, and the murmurous note + Of mutual disaffection. Otherwhere + The myriad coolie chortled, knightly palms + Clapped, and the whole vale echoed to the noise + Of ladies, who in session to the West + Sat with the light behind them, self-approved. + + Fortune with equal favour poised the scale, + And loudlier rang the trouble, till I heard + 'A Susan! Ho! A Susan!'--She, oh she, + One whom myself had picked from out the crowd + Of hot girl-athletes with their tousled hair, + Was on the ball. Deftly she smote, and drave + On, and so paddled swiftly in its wake. + The good ash gleamed and fell; the forward ranks + Gave passage; once again she smote, again + Paddled, nor passed, but paddling ever neared + The mournful guardian of the Sacred Goal, + Hewing and hacking. Little need to tell + Of Susan in her glory; whom she smote + She felled, and whom she shocked she overthrew; + And, shrieking, passed exultant to her doom. + + For Susan, while she clove a devious course, + Moved crab-like, in a strange diagonal, + And, driving, crossed the frontiers. Thither came + The bold Sir Referee, and shrilled abroad + The tremulous, momentary 'touch.' But she, + Heaving with unaccustomed exercise, + Blinded and baffled, wild with all despair, + Stood sweeping, as a churl that sweeps the scythe + In earlier pastures. Twice he skipped, and poured + The desperate whistle. Once again, and he, + Skipping, diffused the whistle. But at last, + So shrewd a blow she dealt him on the shin, + That had he stood reverse-wise on his head, + Not on his feet, I know not what had chanced. + Then to the shuddering Orient skies there rose + A marvellous great shriek, the splintering noise + Of shattered ash-plant and of battered shank, + Mixed with a higher. For Susan, overwrought, + Lost footing, and with one clear dolorous wail + Fell headlong, only more so. And I saw, + Clothed in black stockings, mystic, wonderful, + That which I saw. The coolies yelled. The crowd + Closed round, and so the tourney reached an end. + + Then home they bore the bold Sir Referee + In Susan's litter; and they tended him + With curious tendance; and they drowned his views + On Susan, and the tourney, and the place + Whither he'd see them ere again he ruled + Such functions, with a sweet, small song (I call + It sweet that should not!). This is how it ran:-- + + 'Our Referee has fall'n, has fall'n. The stick, + The little stick he leapt at in the lists + Has riven and cleft the bark, and raised a bulk + Of crescent span, that spreads on every side + A thousand hues, all flushing into one. + + 'Our Referee has fall'n, has fall'n. She came, + The woman with her ash, and lo the wound! + But we will make a bandage for the limb, + And swathe it, heel to knee, with splints and wool, + And embrocations for the hurts of man. + + 'Our Referee has fall'n, has fall'n; he wailed; + With our own ears we heard him, and we knew + _There dwelt an iron nature in the grain_! + The splintering ash was cloven on his limb; + His limb was battered to the cannon-bone.' + + So passed that stout but choleric knight away; + And we, by certain wandering instincts led, + Made for a small pavilion, where we found + Viands and what not, and the thirsty flower + Of mountain knighthood gathered at the board. + And entering, here we lingered, and discussed + The what not, and the viands, and in time + Drew to the tourney, giving each his views;-- + But mostly wondering what the coolies thought + To see these ladies of the Ruling Race, + 'Yoked in all _exercise_ of noble end,' + And Public Exhibition. Was it wise? + Some questioned; others, was it quite the thing? + + And here indeed we left it, for the shades + Deepened, the high, swift-narrowing crest of day + Brake from the hills, and down the path we went, + Well pleased, for it was guest-night at the Club. + + + + +'FAREWELL' + + + 'Farewell. What a subject! How sweet + It looks to the careless observer! + So simple; so easy to treat + With tenderness, mark you, and fervour. + _Farewell_. It's a poem; the song + Of nightingales crying and calling!' + O Reader, you're utterly wrong. + It's not. It's appalling! + + And yet when she asked me to send + Some trifle of verse to remind her + Of days that had come to an end, + And one she was leaving behind her, + It looked, as we stood on the shore, + A theme so entirely delightsome + That I, like a lunatic, swore + (Quite calmly) to write some. + + I've toiled with unwavering pluck; + I've struggled if ever a man did; + Infringed every postulate, stuck + At nothing,--nay, once, to be candid, + I shifted the cadence--designed + A fresh but unauthorised _fare_-well; + 'Twas plausible, too, but I find + The thing doesn't wear well. + + I know that it shouldn't be hard; + That dozens, who claim to be poets, + Could scribble off stuff by the yard + And fare very well; and I know it's + A theme that the Masters of Rhyme + Have written some excellent verse on, + Which proves, as I take it, that I'm + Not that sort of person. + + But that we can leave. It remains + To state that my present appearance + Is something too awful, my brains + Are tending to wild incoherence; + My mental condition's absurd; + My thoughts are at sixes and sevens, + Inextrica--lord! what a word! + Inextri--good heavens! + + My dear, you can do what you like,-- + Forgive, or despise, or abuse me-- + But frankly, I'm going on strike, + And really you'll have to excuse me. + Indeed it's my only resource, + For, sure as I stuck to my promise, I'd + Be booked in a week for a course + Of sui-_cum_-homicide. + + + + +A HAPPY NEW YEAR + +11.30 P.M., DEC. 31 + + + Friend, when the year is on the wing, + 'Tis held a fair and comely thing + To turn reflective glances + Over the days' forbidden Scroll, + See if we're better on the whole, + And average our chances. + + Yet 'tis an awful thing to drag + Each separate deed from out the bag + That up till now has hidden 't, + And bring before the shuddering view + All that we swore we wouldn't do, + Or should have done, but didn't. + + The broken code, the baffled laws + Our little private faults and flaws, + And every naughty habit, + Come whistling through the Waste of Life, + Until one longs to take a knife, + Feel for his heart, and stab it. + + Unchanged, exultant, one and all + Rise up spontaneous to the call, + And bring their stings behind them; + But when the search is duly plied + For items on the credit side, + One has a job to find them! + + I know not _why_ they change. I know-- + None better--how one's feelings grow + Distinctly kin to mutiny, + To see one's assets limping in, + All too preposterously thin + To stand a moment's scrutiny. + + I know that shock must follow shock, + Until the sole remaining Rock + That all one's hopes exist on, + Crumbles beneath the crushing force + Of Conscience, kicking like a horse, + And pounding like a piston. + + Hardly a little year has past + Since you, I take it, swore to cast + Aside the bonds that girt you, + And thought to stun the dazzled earth, + A pillared Miracle of Worth, + Raised on a plinth of Virtue. + + One always does. One wonders why. + One knows that, as the years go by, + One finds the same old blunders, + The same old acts, the same old words; + And as one trots them out in herds, + Or one by one, one wonders; + + * * * * * + + Another year,--a touch of grey,-- + A little stiffness,--day by day + We feel the need of, shall we say, + Goggles to face the sun with,-- + A little loss of youthful bloom,-- + A little nearer to the Tomb! + (Pardon this momentary gloom) + Bang go the bells. _That's_ done with! + + + + +SAIREY + +EXCERPTS FROM AN INCONGRUITY + +_After A. C. S._ + + + In Spring there are lashings of new books, + In Autumn fresh novels are sold, + They are many, but my shelf has few books, + My comrades, the favourites of old; + Tho' the roll of the cata-logues vary, + Thou alone art unchangeably dear, + O bibulous, beautiful Sairey, + Our Lady of Cheer. + + By the whites of thine eyes that were yellow, + By the folds of thy duplicate chin, + By thy voice that was husky but mellow + With gin, with the richness of gin, + By thy scorn of the boy that was Bragian, + By thy wealth of perambulate swoons, + O matchless and mystical Magian, + Beguile us with boons. + + For thou scatterest the evil before us + With grave humours and exquisite speech, + Till we heed not the 'new men that _bore_ us,' + Nor regard the new women that screech; + We are weak, but thy hand shall refresh us; + We are faint, but we know thee sublime; + More priceless than pills, and more precious + Than draughts that are slime. + + Thou hast lifted us forth from the _melly_, + Thou hast told, with thick heavings of pride, + Of the Package in Jonadge's belly, + And the Camel that rich folks may ride; + From the mire and the murk of a stern Age + In the Font of St. Polge we are clean, + O Gold as has passed through the Furnage, + Our Lady and Queen. + + * * * * * + + In thy chamber where Holborn is highest, + At the banquet, ere night had begun, + Thou wert seated with her that was nighest + Thy heart, save the Only, the One; + For the hours of thy labour were ended, + And the spirit of peace was within, + And the fumes from the teapot ascended + Of unsweetened gin. + + Dost thou dream in dim dusk when light lingers, + Of Betsy, the bage, the despiged, + Who with snap of imperious fingers + Haricina, thy figment, deniged? + Dost thou gasp at the shock of the blow sich + As she, in her tantrum, let fall, + Who 'didn't believe there was no sich + A person' at all? + + Fear not! Though the torters be frightful, + Though the words that thou took'st unawares + Be as serpiants that twine and are spiteful, + O thou best of good creeturs, who cares? + For the curse hath recoiled, and the stigma + Thou hast turned to her sorrer and shame, + While thy cryptic and sombre Enigma + Is shrined in a Name. + + * * * * * + + And our wine shall not lack for thy throttle, + Nor at night shall our portals be cloged, + And thy lips thou shalt place to the bottle + On our chimley, when so thou'rt dispoged; + We have pickled 'intensely' our salmon; + To thy moods are great cowcumbers dressed, + O Daughter of Gumption and Gammon, + Our Mistress and Guest! + + And in hours when our lamp-ile has dwindled + In deep walleys of uttermost pain, + When our hopes to grey ashes are kindled, + We are fain of thee still, we are fain; + In this Piljian's Projiss of Woe, in + This Wale of white shadders and damp, + O Roge all a-blowin' and growin', + We open our Gamp! + + + + +ADAM + +_After W. W._ + + An adventure of the Author's, and one designed to show that + grievances may be met with in the cottages of the humblest, + and may take the most unexpected forms. + + + When in my white-washed walls confined + Till eve her freedom brings, + I often turn a musing mind + To think awhile of things, + + And thus about the noontide glow + To-day my thoughts recalled + Old Adam, whom I once did know, + A dear old thing, though bald. + + A village Gravedigger was he + With Newgate fringe of grey, + The only man that one could see + At work on Saturday! + + For on those evenings (which provide + A due release to toil) + He shovelled wearily, and plied + His task upon the soil. + + Therein a sorrow Adam had, + And when he knew me well + He told this tale, and made me sad, + Which now to you I tell. + + For once my feet did chance to stray + Across the old churchyard, + And Adam sighed, and paused to say + 'It's werry, werry hard.' + + I marvelled much to hear him sigh, + And when he paused again, + 'Come, come, you quaint old thing,' said I, + 'Why thus this tone of pain?' + + In silence Adam rose, and gained + A seat amid the stones, + And thus the veteran complained, + The dear old bag of bones. + + 'Down by the wall the Village goes, + How horrid sounds their glee, + On Saturdays they early close, + They have their Sundays free; + + 'And here, on this depressing spot, + I cannot choose but moan + That I, a labouring man, have not + An hour to call my own. + + 'The Blacksmith in his Sunday things, + The Clerk that leaves his till, + Can give their thoughts of labour wings, + And frolic as they will. + + 'To me they--drat 'em!--never give + A thought; they wander by, + An irritation while they live, + A nuisance when they die. + + 'If there be one that needs lament + The way these folks behave, + 'Tis he whose holidays are spent + In digging someone's grave, + + 'For when a person takes and dies, + On Monday though it be, + They _never_ hold his obsequies + Till Sunday after three. + + 'And thus it fares through their delay, + That I may not begin + To dig the grave till Saturday,-- + On Sunday fill it in. + + 'My Sabbath ease is broken through, + My Saturdays destroyed; + Many employ me; _very few + Have left me unemployed_!' + + Again did Adam murmur 'Drat!' + And smote the old-churchyard, + And said, as on his hands he spat, + 'It's werry, werry hard!' + + And as I rose, the path to take + That led me home again, + My head was in my wideawake, + His words were in my brain. + + + + +ELEGY ON A RHINOCEROS + +RECENTLY DECEASED + + + Come, let us weep for Begum; he is dead. + Dead; and afar, where Thamis' waters lave + The busy marge, he lies unvisited, + Unsung; above no cypress branches wave, + Nor tributary blossoms fringe his grave; + Only would these poor numbers advertise + His copious charms, and mourn for his demise. + + Blithesome was he and beautiful; the Zoo + Hath nought to match with Begum. He was one + Of infinite humour; well indeed he knew + To catch with mobile lips th' impetuous bun + Tossed him-ward by some sire-encouraged son, + Half-fearful, yet of pride fulfilled to note + The dough, swift-homing down th' exultant throat. + + Whilom he pensive stood, infoliate + Of comfortable mud, and idly stirred + His tiny caudal, disproportionate + But not ungraceful, while a wanton herd + Of revellers the mystic lens preferred; + Whereof the focus rightly they addrest; + And, Phoebus being kind, the button prest. + + Then, being frolic, he, as one distraught, + Would blindly, stumbling, seek the watery verge + And sink, nor rise again. But when, untaught + In craft, the mourners raised the untimely dirge, + Lo! otherwhere himself would swift emerge + Incontinent, and crisp his tasselled ears; + And, all vivacious, own the sounding cheers. + + Nothing of dark suspicion nor of guile + Was limned on Begum; his the mirthful glance, + The genial port, the comprehensive smile:-- + The very sunbeams shimmering loved to dance + Within that honest, open countenance;-- + And far as eye could pierce, his roomy grin + Was pink, as 'twere Aurora dwelt therein. + + Yet he is dead! Whether the froward cates + Some lawless lodgment found, nor coughs released: + Or if adown those hospitable gates + Drave the strong North, or shrilled the ravening East, + And, ill-requiting, slew the wretched beast, + We nothing know; only the news is cried, + Begum is dead: we know not how he died. + + Still, though the callous bards neglect to hymn + Thy praises, Begum; though, on dross intent, + The hireling sculptor pauseth not to limn + Thy spacious visage, kindly hands are bent + E'en now to stuff thy frail integument. + Then sleep in peace, Beloved; blest Sultan + Of some Rhinokeraunian Devachan. + + + + +IN SEVERAL KEYS + +No. 1 + +'MARIE' + + + We hear the opening refrain, + Marie! + We thought so; here you are again, + Marie! + A simple tune, in simple thirds, + Beloved of after-dinner birds; + A legend, self-condemned as 'words,' + Marie! + + She lingers by the flowing tide, + Marie; + A 'fisher-lad' is close beside + Marie; + He gazes in her 'eyes so blue'; + _Marie, Marie, my heart is true_; + And then,--you do, you know you do, + Marie!-- + + But vain is every mortal wish, + Marie; + And 'fisher-lads' have got to fish, + Marie; + O blinding tears! O cheeks 'so' wet! + _Marie, I come again!_ And yet + I shouldn't feel disposed to bet, + Marie! + + A tempest drives across the wave, + Marie; + With triplets in the treble stave, + Marie; + The player pounds. With bulging eyes + Th' excited vocalist replies; + The maddened octaves drown his cries, + Marie! + + The storm is past. We hear again, + Marie, + The simple thirds, the waltz refrain, + Marie; + We only see some drifting wrack, + An empty bunk, a battered smack, + Alas! Alas!! Alack!!! Alack!!!! + Marie! + + O good old words, O 'tears that rise,' + Marie! + O good young fisher-lad that dies, + Marie! + We leave you on the lonely shore;-- + You wave your hands for evermore, + A bleak, disgusted semaphore, + Marie! + + + + +IN SEVERAL KEYS + +No. 2 + +THE BALLAD OF MORBID MOTHERS + + + Why do you sit in the churchyard weeping? + Why do you cling to the dear old graves, + When the dim, drear mists of the dusk are creeping + Out of the marshes in wan, white waves? + Darling, I know you're a slave to sorrow; + Dearie, I _know_ that the world is cruel; + But _you'll_ be in bed with a cold to-morrow, + _I_ shall be running upstairs with gruel. + + Why do you weep on a tombstone, Mammy, + Sobbing alone in the drizzling sleet, + When the chill mists rise, and the wind strikes clammy? + Think of your bones, and your poor old feet! + Darling, I know that you feel lugubrious; + Dearie, I _know_ you must work this off; + But graveyards are not, as a rule, salubrious, + Whence the expression, a 'churchyard cough.' + +[_The Old Lady explains her eccentric behaviour._] + + Why do I ululate, dear my dearie, + Coiled on a nastily mildewed tomb, + When the horned owl hoots, and the world is weary, + Weary of sorrow, and swamped in gloom? + Childie my child, 'tis a cogent question; + Dearie my dear, if you wish to know, + Tis not that I suffer from indigestion, + But that the Public ordains it so. + + Babies, and Aunties, and dying brothers, + Boom for a season, as 'loves' may part; + But the old shop-ballad of Morbid Mothers + Dives to the depths of the Public's heart. + Dearie, with booms, at the best, precarious, + All but the permanent needs must fail; + And Childie, if Mammy became hilarious, + Mammy would never command a sale. + + + + +THE STORY OF RUD. + + + Once for a tight little Island, fonder of ha'pence than kicks, + Rud., a maker of verses, sang of an Empire of Bricks, + Sang of the Sons of that Empire--told them they came of the Blood-- + Rubbing it under their noses. _Read ye the Story of Rud_! + + Pleased was the Public to hear it--rose in their hundreds to sing-- + Swallowed it, chewed it, and gurgled: 'Verily, this is the thing! + Thus do we wallop our foemen--roll 'em away in the mud-- + This is the People that _we_ are. Glory and laurels for Rud.!' + + Later he pictured a Panic--later he pictured a Scare, + Pictured the burning of coast towns--skies in a reddening glare-- + Pictured the Mafficking Million--collared, abortive, alone-- + Out of the duty he owed them, pictured them down to the bone. + + Sick was the Public to read it--passed it along to 'the Sports'-- + 'Fools in the full-flannelled breeches, oafs in the muddy-patched + shorts'-- + Loafers and talkers and writers, furtively whispering low-- + '_Say_ that it's like 'em--it _may_ be--nobody ever need know. + + 'Rud.,--would he drive us to Barracks--make of us militant hordes-- + Broke to the spit of the pom-pom--trained to the flashing of swords?-- + Pooh! It is _these_ that he goes for--Sport is the bubble he pricks-- + Doubt not but _we_ are The People--Bricks of an Empire of Bricks!' + + What of that maker of verses? Did he not answer the call: + 'Loafers and talkers and writers, children or knaves are ye all; + Look at the lines ere ye quote them: read, ere ye cackle as geese!'? + Nay. But he passed from The People--left them to stew in their grease. + + * * * * * + + But a hyphen-ish growl makes answer: 'Ye that would take from the whole + The one line robbed of the context, nor win to the straight-set Goal, + Is it thus ye will fend the warning--thus ye will move the shame + From the Mob that watch by the thousand, to the dozens that play the + game? + Still will ye pay at the turnstile--thronging the rope-ringed Match, + Where the half-back fumbles the leather, or the deep-field butters + the catch? + Will ye thank your gods (being 'umble) that the fool and the oaf are + found + In the field, at the goal or the wicket, and _not_ in the seats around? + _Not_ in the Saturday Squallers--men of a higher grade-- + That lay down a law they know not, of a game that they have not played? + Holding the folly of flannel, still will ye teach the Schools + That Wisdom is dressed in shoddy, and how should the Wise be fools? + Not doubting but ye are The People--ye are the Sons of The Blood? + Loafers and talkers and writers,--_Read ye the Verses of Rud._!' + + + + +THE HAPPY ENDING + + + + +STANZAS WRITTEN IN DEJECTION + + + I am tired of the day with its profitless labours, + And tired of the night with its lack of repose, + I am sick of myself, my surroundings, and neighbours, + Especially Aryan Brothers and crows; + O land of illusory hope for the needy, + O centre of soldiering, thirst, and shikar, + When a broken-down exile begins to get seedy, + What a beast of a country you are! + + There are many, I know, that have honestly drawn a + Most moving description of pleasures to win + By the exquisite carnage of such of your fauna + As Nature provides with a 'head' or a 'skin'; + I know that a pig is magnificent sticking; + But good as you are in the matter of sports, + When a person's alive, so to put it, and kicking, + You're a brute when a man's out of sorts. + + For the moment he feels the effects of the weather-- + A mild go of fever--a touch of the sun-- + He arrives with a jerk at the end of his tether, + And finds your attractions a bit overdone; + Impatiently conscious of boredom and worry, + He sits in his misery, scowling at grief, + With a face like a pallid _rechauffee_ of curry, + And a head like a lump of boiled beef. + + I am sick of the day (as I happened to mention), + And sick of the night (as I stated before), + And it's oh, for the wings of a dove or a pension + To carry me home to a happier shore! + And oh, to be off, homeward bound, on the briny, + Away from the tropics--away from the heat, + And to take off a shocking old hat to the Shiny, + As I shake off her dust from my feet! + + + + +THE FINEST VIEW + + + Away, away! The plains of Ind + Have set their victim free; + I give my sorrows to the wind, + My sun-hat to the sea; + And, standing with a chosen few, + I watch a dying glow, + The passing of the Finest View + That all the world can show. + + It would not fire an artist's eye, + This View whereof I sing; + Poets, no doubt, would pass it by + As quite a common thing; + The Tourist with belittling sniff + Would find no beauties there-- + He couldn't if he would, and if + He could he wouldn't care. + + Only for him that turns the back + On dark and evil days + It throws a glory down his track + That sets his heart ablaze; + A charm to make the wounded whole, + Which wearied eyes may draw + Luxuriously through the soul, + Like cocktails through a straw. + + I have seen strong men moved to tears + When gazing o'er the deep, + Hard men, whom I have known for years, + Nor dreamt that they could weep; + Even myself, though stern and cold + Beyond the common line, + Cannot, for very joy, withhold + The tribute of my brine. + + Farewell, farewell, thou best of Views! + I leave thee to thy pain, + And, while I have the power to choose, + We shall not meet again; + But, 'mid the scenes of joy and mirth, + My fancies oft will turn + Back to the Finest Sight on Earth, + The Bombay Lights--_astern_! + + + + +HAVEN + + + Here, in mine old-time harbourage installed, + Lulled by the murmurous hum of London's traffic + To that full calm which may be justly called + Seraphic, + + I praise the gods; and vow, for my escape + From the hard grip of premature Jehannun, + One golden-tissued bottle of the grape + Per annum. + + For on this day, from Orient toils enlarged, + Kneeling, I kissed the parent soil at Dover, + Where a huge porter in his orbit charged + Me over; + + Flashed in the train by Shorncliffe's draughty camp; + Gazed on the hurrying landscape's pastoral graces, + Old farms, and happy fields (a trifle damp + In places); + + Passed the grim suburbs, indigent and bare + Of natural foliage, but bravely flying + Frank garlandry of last week's underwear + Out drying; + + And so to Town; and with that blessed sight + I, a poor fevered wreck, forgot to shiver-- + Forgot to mourn the Burden of my White + Man's Liver; + + And felt my bosom heave, my breast expand, + With thoughts too sweet, too deep for empty cackle, + Such thoughts as nothing but a first-class Band + Could tackle: + + Till, from its deeps, my celebrated smile + (Which friends called Marvel) clove my jaws asunder, + Lucid, intense, and all men stood awhile + In wonder! + + * * * * * + + Let none approach me now, for I have dined; + The fire is bright; Havana's choice aroma + Infects my being with a pleasant kind + Of coma; + + Calmly I contemplate my future lot: + I reconstruct the past--it fails to strike me + With aught of horror (pity there are not + More like me!)-- + + My bosom's lord sits lightly on my breast; + The East grows dim; and every hour I stuck to it + Imparts a richer brightness to the West, + Good luck to it! + + * * * * * + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Rhymes of the East and Re-collected +Verses, by John Kendall (AKA Dum-Dum) + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RHYMES OF THE EAST *** + +***** This file should be named 20370.txt or 20370.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/3/7/20370/ + +Produced by Steven Gibbs, Sankar Viswanathan, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. |