diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:07:46 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:07:46 -0700 |
| commit | 81537d7853be2785210854fa087bc45f2bc5a2ff (patch) | |
| tree | 9f64621574728edfdf1e78a40b94f6549886251e /37323.txt | |
Diffstat (limited to '37323.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 37323.txt | 2276 |
1 files changed, 2276 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/37323.txt b/37323.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8417572 --- /dev/null +++ b/37323.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2276 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Poems on Golf, by Edinburgh Burgess Golfing Society + +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: Poems on Golf + +Author: Edinburgh Burgess Golfing Society + +Release Date: September 6, 2011 [EBook #37323] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS ON GOLF *** + + + + +Produced by C.S. Beers, Greg Bergquist and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + + + [Illustration: POEMS ON GOLF] + + + + + POEMS + ON + GOLF + + [Decoration] + + EDINBURGH + Printed for Private Circulation + 1867 + + [Illustration: J.M. CORNER] + + + + +Some Members of THE EDINBURGH BURGESS GOLFING SOCIETY having resolved to +collect and print a few fugitive pieces in verse relating to the game of +GOLF, the following Poems and Songs have been after some labour +procured, and are now printed (some for the first time) for private +circulation among the Subscribers whose names are appended. + + EDINBURGH, _April 1867_. + + + + + CONTENTS. + + + PAGE + + THE GOFF, an Heroi-comical Poem 1 + + GOLFIANA--Address to St. Andrews 20 + + " The Golfiad 22 + + " The first Hole at St. Andrews + on a crowded day 29 + + " Another Peep at the Links 36 + + THE NINE HOLES OF ST. ANDREWS LINKS 48 + + SCRAP--"The following scrap" &c. 56 + + SONG--The Golfers' Garland 57 + + " The Links o' Innerleven 60 + + " In praise of Gutta Percha 63 + + " "Far and Sure" 66 + + " "Gae bring my guid auld clubs" 68 + + " "Come, leave your dingy desks" 73 + + " "When Tom and me were laddies" 77 + + + + + LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. + + + BANNATYNE, ADAM B., Advocate. + BARCLAY, JAS., Writer. + BAYLEY, GEO., W.S. + BELL, W. H., A.C.S. + BEVERIDGE, WILL. T. R., A.C.S. + BRODIE, WM., R.S.A. + BROWN, W. A., Advocate. + BROWN, THOMAS, Writer. + BURN, GEORGE, W.S. + + CALDER, A., Insurance Manager. + CHISHOLM, JOHN K., Dentist. + CLARK, AND. R., Advocate. + CLARK, R., Printer. + CURROR, D., S.S.C. + + DRUMMOND, JAMES, R.S.A. + DRYSDALE, WILLIAM, D.C.S. + + FRASER, WM. N., of Tornaveen. + + GOUGH, OWEN, Holyrood Palace. + + HAY, JAMES, Esq., Leith. + HENDERSON, ANDREW, Writer. + HENDERSON, DAVID, Writer. + HUTCHISON, H., Writer. + HUTTON, WM., Writer. + + JACK, JNO., Writer. + JAMIESON, JAMES T., S.S.C. + JOHNSTON, ROB., Solicitor. + + KINNEAR, JAS., Writer. + KIRKWOOD, JAMES, Merchant. + + LANDALE, THO., S.S.C. + LEE, ROBERT, Advocate. + LEGGAT, JAMES, Coal Master. + LEISHMAN, JOHN, W.S. + + MACKENZIE, JOHN, W.S. + MACMILLAN, H., Writer. + M'EWEN, J., Writer. + MANN, W., Writer. + MELVILLE, F. SUTHER, A.C.S. + MILLAR, WM., Board of Supervision. + MITCHELL, A., Banker. + MONCREIFF, JAMES, M.P., Dean of the Faculty of Advocates. + MONCRIEFF, A., Advocate. + MORRISON, AD., S.S.C. + MURRAY, ANDW., Jun., W.S. + + PATTISON, G. H., Advocate. + + REID, WILLIAM, Writer. + + SHAW, ROBERT B., Assistant Clerk of the Bills. + SMITH, DANIEL, Corn Factor. + STEVEN, ROBERT, Writer. + STEVENSON, PETER, Philosophical Instrument Maker. + + THOMS, GEO. H., Advocate. + THOMPSON, J. GIBSON. + THOMSON, JOHN, S.S.C. + THOMSON, W. M., Advocate. + + WADDELL, ALEX. PEDDIE, W.S. + WELCH, C., Writer, Cupar. + WILLIAMSON, JAMES, Traveller. + WILSON, GEO. B., Accountant. + + YOUNG, J. WM., 22 Royal Circus. + + * * * * * + + + + + [Decoration] + + THE GOFF. + + By THOMAS MATHISON, originally a Writer in Edinburgh, and + afterwards Minister of Brechin. Reprinted from the second + edition of the Poem.--1763. + + + CANTO I. + + Goff, and the _Man_, I sing, who, em'lous, plies + The jointed club, whose balls invade the skies, + Who from _Edina's_ tow'rs, his peaceful home, + In quest of fame o'er _Letha's_ plains did roam. + Long toil'd the hero, on the verdant field, + Strain'd his stout arm the weighty club to wield; + Such toils it cost, such labours to obtain + The bays of conquest, and the bowl to gain. + O thou GOLFINIA, Goddess of these plains! + Great Patroness of GOFF! indulge my strains; + Whether beneath the _thorn-tree_ shade you lie, + Or from _Mercerian_ tow'rs the game survey, + Or round the green the flying ball you chase, + Or make your bed in some hot sandy _face_: + Leave your much-lov'd abode, inspire his lays + Who sings of GOFF, and sings thy fav'rite's praise. + North from _Edina_ eight furlongs and more, + Lies that fam'd field, on _Fortha's_ sounding shore. + Here _Caledonian_ Chiefs for health resort, + Confirm their sinews by the manly sport. + _Macdonald_ and unmatch'd _Dalrymple_ ply + Their pond'rous weapons, and the green defy; + _Rattray_ for skill, and _Corse_ for strength renown'd, + _Stewart_ and _Lesly_ beat the sandy ground, + And _Brown_ and _Alston_, Chiefs well known to fame, + And numbers more the Muse forbears to name. + Gigantic _Biggar_ here full oft is seen, + Like huge behemoth on an _Indian_ green; + His bulk enormous scarce can 'scape the eyes, + Amaz'd spectators wonder how he plies. + Yea, here great _Forbes_,[1] patron of the just, + The dread of villains and the good man's trust, + When spent with toils in serving human kind, + His body recreates, and unbends his mind. + Bright _Phoebus_ now had measur'd half the day, + And warm'd the earth with genial noon-tide ray; + Forth rush'd _Castalio_ and his daring foe, + Both arm'd with clubs, and eager for the blow. + Of finest ash Castalio's shaft was made, + Pond'rous with lead, and fenc'd with horn the head + (The work of _Dickson_, who in _Letha_ dwells, + And in the art of making clubs excels), + Which late beneath great _Claro's_ arm did bend, + But now is wielded by his greater friend. + Not with more fury _Norris_ cleav'd the main, + To pour his thund'ring arms on guilty _Spain_; + Nor with more haste brave _Haddock_ bent his course + To guard _Minorca_ from _Iberian_ force,-- + Than thou, intrepid hero, urg'd thy way + O'er roads and sands, impatient for the fray. + With equal warmth _Pygmalion_ fast pursu'd + (With courage oft are little wights endued), + 'Till to GOLFINIA'S downs the heroes came, + The scene of combat and the field of fame. + Upon a verdant bank by _Flora_ grac'd, + Two sister Fairies found the Goddess plac'd; + Propp'd by her snowy hand her head reclin'd, + Her curling locks hung waving in the wind. + She eyes intent the consecrated green, + Crowded with waving clubs and vot'ries keen, + And hears the prayers of youths to her address'd, + And from the hollow face relieves the ball distress'd. + On either side the sprightly Dryads sat, + And entertained the Goddess with their chat. + First VERDURILLA, thus: O rural Queen! + What chiefs are those that drive along the green? + With brandish'd clubs the mighty heroes threat, + Their eager looks foretell a keen debate. + To whom GOLFINIA: Nymph, your eyes behold + _Pygmalion_ stout, _Castalio_ brave and bold. + From silver _Ierna's_ banks _Castalio_ came, + But first on _Andrean_ plains he courted fame. + His sire, a Druid, taught (one day of seven) + The paths of virtue, the sure road to heaven. + In _Pictish_ capital the good man passed + His virtuous life, and there he breath'd his last. + The son now dwells in fair _Edina's_ town, + And on our sandy plains pursues renown. + See low _Pygmalion_, skilled in GOFFING art, + Small is his size, but dauntless is his heart: + Fast by a desk in _Edin's_ domes he sits, + With _saids_ and _sicklikes_ length'ning out the writs. + For no mean prize the rival chiefs contend, + But full rewards the victor's toils attend. + The vanquish'd hero for the victor fills + A mighty bowl containing thirty gills; + With noblest liquor is the bowl replete; + Here sweets and acids, strength and weakness meet. + From _Indian_ isles the strength and sweetness flow, + And _Tagus'_ banks their golden fruits bestow; + Cold _Caledonia's_ lucid streams controul + The fiery spirits, and fulfil the bowl; + For _Albion's_ peace and _Albion's_ friends they pray, + And drown in _Punch_ the labours of the day. + The Goddess spoke, and thus GAMBOLIA pray'd: + Permit to join in brave _Pygmalion's_ aid, + O'er each deep road the hero to sustain, + And guide his ball to the desired plain. + To this the Goddess of the manly sport: + Go, and be thou that daring chief's support. + Let VERDURILLA be _Castalio's_ stay; + I from this flow'ry seat will view the fray. + She said: the nymphs trip nimbly o'er the green, + And to the combatants approach unseen. + + END OF CANTO I. + +[Footnote 1: Duncan Forbes, Lord President of the Court of Session in +Scotland.] + + [Decoration] + + + [Decoration] + + CANTO II. + + Ye rural powers that on these plains preside, + Ye nymphs that dance on Fortha's flow'ry side, + Assist the Muse that in your fields delights, + And guide her course in these uncommon flights. + But chief, thee, O GOLFINIA! I implore, + High as thy balls instruct my Muse to soar: + So may thy green for ever crowded be, + And balls on balls invade the azure sky. + Now at that hole the chiefs begin the game, + Which from the neighb'ring _thorn-tree_ takes its name; + Ardent they grasp the ball-compelling clubs, + And stretch their arms t' attack the little globes; + Not as our warriors brandish'd dreadful arms, + When fierce _Bellona_ sounded war's alarms; + When conqu'ring _Cromwell_ stain'd fair _Eska's_ flood, + And soak'd her banks with _Caledonian_ blood; + Or when our bold ancestors madly fought, + And clans engaged for trifles or for nought. + That _Fury_ now from our bless'd fields is driv'n, + To scourge unhappy nations doom'd by heav'n. + Let _Kouli Kan_ destroy the fertile East, + Victorious _Vernon_ thunder in the West; + Let horrid war involve perfidious _Spain_, + And GEORGE assert his empire o'er the main: + But on our plains _Britannia's_ sons engage, + And void of ire the sportive war they wage. + Lo, tatter'd _Irus_, who their armour bears, + Upon the green two little pyr'mids rears; + On these they place two balls with careful eye, + That with _Clarinda's_ breasts for colour vie,-- + The work of _Bobson_, who, with matchless art, + Shapes the firm hide, connecting ev'ry part,-- + Then in a socket sets the well-stitched void, + And thro' the eyelet drives the downy tide; + Crowds urging crowds the forceful brogue impels, + The feathers harden and the leather swells; + He crams and sweats, yet crams and urges more, + Till scarce the turgid globe contains its store; + The dreadful falcon's pride here blended lies + With pigeons' glossy down of various dyes; + The lark's small pinions join the common stock, + And yellow glory of the martial cock. + Soon as _Hyperion_ gilds old _Andrea's_ spires, + From bed the artist to his cell retires, + With bended back, there plies his steely awls, + And shapes, and stuffs, and finishes the balls. + But when the glorious God of day has driv'n + His flaming chariot down the steep of heav'n, + He ends his labour, and with rural strains + Enchants the lovely maids and weary swains: + As thro' the streets the blythsome piper plays, + In antic dance they answer to his lays; + At ev'ry pause the ravish'd crowd acclaim, + And rends the skies with tuneful _Bobson's_ name. + Not more rewarded was old _Amphion's_ song, + That reared a town, and this drags one along. + Such is fam'd _Bobson_, who in _Andrea_ thrives, + And such the balls each vig'rous hero drives. + First, bold _Castalio_, ere he struck the blow, + Lean'd on his club, and thus address'd his foe: + Dares weak _Pygmalion_ this stout arm defy, + Which brave _Matthias_ doth with terror try? + Strong as he is, _Moravio_ owns my might, + Distrusts his vigour, and declines the fight. + Renown'd _Clephanio_ I constrain'd to yield, + And drove the haughty vet'ran from the field. + Weak is thine arm, rash youth! thy courage vain; + Vanquish'd, with shame you'll curse the fatal plain. + The half-struck balls your weak endeavours mock, + Slowly proceed, and soon forget the stroke. + Not so the orb eludes my thund'ring force, + Thro' fields of air it holds its rapid course; + Swift as the balls from martial engines driv'n, + Streams like a comet thro' the arch of heav'n. + Vaunter, go on! (_Pygmalion_ thus replies); + Thine empty boasts with justice I despise! + Hadst thou the strength Goliah's spear to wield, + Like its great master thunder on the field, + And with that strength _Culloden's_ matchless art, + Not one unmanly thought should daunt my heart. + He said: and sign'd to _Irus_, who before + With frequent warnings fill'd the sounding shore. + Then great _Castalio_ his whole strength collects, + And on the orb a noble blow directs; + Swift as a thought the ball obedient flies, + Sings high in air, and seems to cleave the skies; + Then on the level plain its fury spends; + And _Irus_ to the chief the welcome tidings sends. + Next in his turn _Pygmalion_ strikes the globe; + On the upper half descends the erring club; + Along the green the ball confounded scours; + No lofty flight the ill-sped stroke impow'rs. + Thus, when the trembling hare descries the hounds, + She from her whinny mansion swiftly bounds; + O'er hills and fields she scours, outstrips the wind; + The hounds and huntsmen follow far behind. + _Gambolia_ now afforded timely aid, + She o'er the sand the fainting ball convey'd; + Renew'd its force, and urg'd it on its way, + Till on the summit of the hill it lay. + Now all on fire the chiefs their orbs pursue, + With the next stroke the orbs their flight renew; + Thrice round the green they urge the whizzing ball, + And thrice three holes to great _Castalio_ fall: + The other six _Pygmalion_ bore away, + And saved a while the honours of the day. + Had some brave champion of the sandy field + The chiefs attended, and the game beheld, + With ev'ry stroke his wonder had increas'd, + And em'lous fires had kindled in his breast. + + END OF CANTO II. + + [Decoration] + + + [Decoration] + + CANTO III. + + Harmonious Nine, that from _Parnassus_ view + The subject world, and all that's done below; + Who from oblivion snatch the patriot's name, + And to the stars extol the hero's fame; + Bring each your lyre, and to my song repair, + Nor think _Golfinia's_ train below the Muses' care. + Declining _Sol_ with milder beams invades + The _Scotian_ fields, and lengthens out the shades; + Hastes to survey the conquered golden plains, + Where captive _Indians_ mourn in _Spanish_ chains, + To gild the waves where hapless _Hosier_ dy'd, + Where _Vernon_ late proud _Bourbon's_ force defied, + Triumphant rode along the wat'ry plain, + _Britannia's_ glory and the scourge of _Spain_. + Still from her seat the _Power_ of GOFF beheld + Th' unwearied heroes toiling on the field: + The light-foot fairies in their labours share, + Each nymph her hero seconds in the war; + PYGMALION and _Gambolia_ there appear, + And VERDURILLA with _Castalio_ here. + The Goddess saw, and op'd the book of Fate, + To search the issue of the grand debate. + Bright silver plates the sacred leaves enfold, + Bound with twelve shining clasps of solid gold. + The wond'rous book contains the fate of all + That lift the club, and strike the missive ball; + Mysterious rhymes, that thro' the pages flow, + The past, the present, and the future show. + GOLFINIA reads the fate-foretelling lines, + And soon the sequel of the war divines; + Sees conquest doom'd _Castalio's_ toils to crown, + _Pygmalion_ doom'd superior might to own. + Then at her side VICTORIA straight appears, + Her sister goddess, arbitress of wars; + Upon her head a wreath of bays she wore, + And in her hand a laurel sceptre bore; + Anxious to know the will of Fate, she stands, + And waits obsequious on the Queen's commands. + To whom GOLFINIA: Fate-fulfilling maid, + Hear the Fates' will, and be their will obey'd: + Straight to the field of fight thyself convey, + Where brave _Castalio_ and _Pygmalion_ stray; + There bid the long-protracted combat cease, + And with thy bays _Castalio's_ temples grace.-- + She said; and swift, as _Hermes_ from above + Shoots to perform the high behests of _Jove_, + VICTORIA from her sister's presence flies, + Pleased to bestow the long-disputed prize. + Meanwhile the chiefs for the last hole contend, + The last great hole, which should their labours end; + For this the chiefs exert their skill and might, + To drive the balls, and to direct their flight. + Thus two fleet coursers for the Royal plate + (The others distanc'd) run the final heat; + With all his might each gen'rous racer flies, + And all his art each panting rider tries, + While show'rs of gold and praises warm his breast, + And gen'rous emulation fires the beast. + His trusty club _Pygmalion_ dauntless plies: + The ball ambitious climbs the lofty skies; + But soon, ah! soon, descends upon the field, + The adverse winds the lab'ring orb repell'd. + Thus when a fowl, whom wand'ring sportsmen scare, + Leaves the sown land, and mounts the fields of air, + Short is his flight; the fiery _Furies_ wound, + And bring him tumbling headlong to the ground. + Not so _Castalio_ lifts th' unerring club, + But with superior art attacks the globe; + The well-struck ball the stormy wind beguil'd, + And like a swallow skimm'd along the field. + An harmless sheep, by Fate decreed to fall, + Feels the dire fury of the rapid ball; + Full on her front the raging bullet flew, + And sudden anguish seiz'd the silent ewe; + Stagg'ring, she falls upon the verdant plain, + Convulsive pangs distract her wounded brain. + Great PAN beheld her stretch'd upon the grass, + Nor unreveng'd permits the crime to pass: + Th' _Arcadian_ God, with grief and fury stung, + Snatch'd his stout crook, and fierce to vengeance sprung; + His faithful dogs their master's steps pursue; + The fleecy flocks before their father bow,-- + With bleatings hoarse salute him as he strode; + And frisking lambkins dance around the God. + The sire of sheep then lifted from the ground + The panting dam, and piss'd upon the wound: + The stream divine soon eas'd the mother's pain; + The wise immortals never piss in vain. + Then to the ball his horny foot applies, + Before his foot the kick'd offender flies. + The hapless orb a gaping face detain'd; + Deep sunk in sand the hapless orb remain'd. + As VERDURILLA mark'd the ball's arrest, + She with resentment fired _Castalio's_ breast. + The nymph assum'd _Patrico's_ shape and mien, + Like great _Patrico_ stalk'd along the green; + So well his manner and his accent feign'd, + _Castalio_ deemed _Patrico's_ self complain'd. + Ah, sad disgrace! see rustic herds invade + GOLFINIAN plains, the angry fairy said: + Your ball abus'd, your hopes and projects cross'd, + The game endanger'd, and the hole nigh lost. + Thus brutal PAN resents his wounded ewe, + Tho' chance, not you, did guide the fatal blow. + Incens'd _Castalio_ makes her no replies, + T' attack the God, the furious mortal flies; + His iron-headed club around he swings, + And fierce at PAN the pond'rous weapon flings. + Affrighted PAN the dreadful missive shunn'd, + But blameless _Tray_ receiv'd a deadly wound: + Ill-fated _Tray_ no more the flocks shall tend, + In anguish doom'd his shorten'd life to end. + Nor could great PAN afford a timely aid; + Great PAN himself before the hero fled: + Even he--a God--a mortal's fury dreads, + And far and fast from bold _Castalio_ speeds. + To free the ball the chief now turns his mind, + Flies to the bank where lay the orb confined; + The pond'rous club upon the ball descends, + Involv'd in dust th' exulting orb ascends. + Their loud applause the pleas'd spectators raise; + The hollow bank resounds _Castalio's_ praise. + A mighty blow _Pygmalion_ then lets fall, + Straight from th' impulsive engine starts the ball, + Answ'ring its master's just design, it hastes, + And from the hole scarce twice two clubs' length rests. + Ah! what avails thy skill, since fate decrees + Thy conqu'ring foe to bear away the prize? + Full fifteen clubs' length from the hole he lay + A wide cart-road before him cross'd his way; + The deep-cut tracks th' intrepid chief defies; + High o'er the road the ball triumphing flies, + Lights on the green, and scours into the hole; + Down with it sinks depress'd _Pygmalion's_ soul. + Seiz'd with surprise, th' affrighted hero stands, + And feebly tips the ball with trembling hands. + The creeping ball its want of force complains, + A grassy tuft the loit'ring orb detains. + Surrounding crowds the victor's praise proclaim, + The echoing shore resounds _Castalio's_ name. + For him _Pygmalion_ must the bowl prepare, + To him must yield the honours of the war; + On fame's triumphant wings his name shall soar + Till time shall end, or GOFFING be no more. + + [Decoration] + + + + + [Decoration] + + ADDRESS TO ST. ANDREWS. + + + St. Andrews! they say that thy glories are gone, + That thy streets are deserted, thy castles o'erthrown: + If thy glories _be_ gone, they are only, methinks, + As it were, by enchantment, transferr'd to thy Links. + Though thy streets be not now, as of yore, full of prelates, + Of abbots and monks, and of hot-headed zealots, + Let none judge us rashly, or blame us as scoffers, + When we say that instead there are Links full of Goffers, + With more of good heart and good feeling among them + Than the abbots, the monks, or the zealots who sung them: + We have red coats and bonnets, we've putters and clubs; + The green has its bunkers, its hazards, and _rubs_; + At the long hole across we have biscuits and beer, + And the Hebes who sell it give zest to the cheer: + If this make not up for the pomp and the splendour + Of mitres, and murders, and mass--we'll surrender; + If Goffers and caddies be not better neighbours + Than abbots and soldiers, with crosses and sabres, + Let such fancies remain with the fool who so thinks, + While we toast old St. Andrews, its Goffers and Links. + + [Decoration] + + + + + [Decoration] + + THE GOLFIAD. + + _Arma, virumq. cano._--VIRGIL, _AEn._ i. l. 1. + + + Balls, clubs, and men I sing, who first, methinks, + Made sport and bustle on North Berwick Links, + Brought coin and fashion, betting, and renown, + Champagne and claret, to a country town, + And lords and ladies, knights and squires, to ground + Where washerwomen erst and snobs were found! + + Had I the powers of him who sung of Troy-- + Gem of the learned, bore of every boy-- + Or him, the bard of Rome, who, later, told + How great AEneas roam'd and fought of old-- + I then might shake the gazing world like them; + For who denies I have as grand a theme? + Time-honour'd Golf!--I heard it whisper'd once + That he who could not play was held a dunce + On old Olympus, when it teem'd with gods. + O rare!--but it's a lie--I'll bet the odds! + No doubt these heathen gods, the very minute + They knew the game, would have delighted in it! + Wars, storms, and thunders--all would have been off! + Mars, Jove, and Neptune would have studied Golf, + And swiped--like Oliphant and Wood below-- + Smack over hell[2] at one immortal go! + Had Mecca's Prophet known the noble game + Before he gave his paradise to fame, + He would have promis'd, in the land of light, + Golf all the day--and Houris all the night! + But this is speculation: we must come, + And work the subject rather nearer home; + Lest, in attempting all too high to soar, + We fall, like Icarus, to rise no more. + + The game is ancient--manly--and employs, + In its departments, women, men, and boys: + Men play the game, the boys the clubs convey, + And lovely woman gives the prize away, + When August brings the great, the medal day! + Nay, more: tho' some may doubt, and sneer, and scoff, + The female muse has sung the game of Goff, + And trac'd it down, with choicest skill and grace, + Thro' all its bearings, to the human race; + The tee, the start of youth--the game, our life-- + The ball when fairly bunkered, man and wife. + + Now, Muse, assist me while I strive to name + The varied skill and chances of the game. + Suppose we play a match: if all agree, + Let Clan and Saddell tackle Baird and me. + Reader, attend! and learn to play at Goff; + The lord of Saddell and myself strike off! + He strikes--he's in the ditch--this hole is ours; + Bang goes my ball--it's bunker'd, by the pow'rs. + But better play succeeds, these blunders past, + And in six strokes the hole is halved at last. + + O hole! tho' small, and scarcely to be seen, + Till we are close upon thee, on the green; + And tho' when seen, save Golfers, few can prize, + The value, the delight that in thee lies; + Yet, without thee, our tools were useless all-- + The club, the spoon, the putter, and the ball: + For all is done--each ball arranged on tee, + Each stroke directed--but to enter thee! + If--as each tree, and rock, and cave of old, + Had _its_ presiding nymph, as we are told-- + Thou hast _thy_ nymph; I ask for nothing but + Her aid propitious when I come to putt. + Now for the second: And here Baird and Clan + In turn must prove which is the better man: + Sir David swipes sublime!--into the quarry![3] + Whiz goes the chief--a sneezer,[4] by Old Harry! + "Now, lift the stones, but do not touch the ball, + The hole is lost if it but move at all: + Well play'd, my cock! you could not have done more; + 'Tis bad, but still we may get home at four." + Now, near the hole Sir David plays the odds; + Clan plays the like, and wins it, by the gods! + "A most disgusting _steal_;[5] well, come away, + They're one ahead, but we have four to play. + We'll win it yet, if I can cross the ditch: + They're over, smack! come, there's another _sich_."[6] + Baird plays a trump--we hole at three--they stare, + And miss their putt--so now the match is square. + + And here, who knows but, as old Homer sung, + The scales of fight on Jove's own finger hung? + Here Clan and Saddell; there swing Baird and I,-- + Our merits, that's to say; for half an eye + Could tell, if _bodies_ in the scales were laid, + Which must descend, and which must rise ahead. + + If Jove were thus engaged, we did not see him, + But told our boys to clean the balls and tee 'em. + In this next hole the turf is most uneven; + We play like tailors--only in at seven, + And they at six; most miserable play! + But let them laugh who win. Hear Saddell say, + "Now, by the piper who the pibroch played + Before old Moses, we are one ahead, + And only two to play--a special _coup_! + Three five-pound notes to one!" "Done, sir, with you." + We start again; and in this dangerous hole[7] + Full many a stroke is played with heart and soul: + "Give me the iron!" either party cries, + As in the quarry, track, or sand he lies. + We reach the green at last, at even strokes; + Some caddy chatters, _that_ the chief provokes, + And makes him miss his putt; Baird holes the ball; + Thus, with but one to play, 'tis even all! + 'Tis strange, and yet there cannot be a doubt, + That such a snob should put a chieftain out: + The noble lion, thus, in all his pride, + Stung by the gadfly, roars and starts aside; + Clan did _not_ roar--_he_ never makes a noise-- + But said, "They're very troublesome, these boys." + His partner muttered something not so civil, + Particularly, "scoundrels"--"at the devil!" + Now Baird and Clan in turn strike off and play[8] + Two strokes, the best that have been seen to-day. + His spoon next Saddell takes, and plays a trump-- + Mine should have been as good but for a bump + That turn'd it off. Baird plays the odds--it's all + But in!--at five yards, good, Clan holes the ball! + My partner, self, and song--all three are done! + We lose the match, and all the bets thereon! + Perhaps you think that, tho' I'm not a winner, + My muse should stay and celebrate the dinner; + The ample joints that travel up the stair, + To grace the table spread by Mrs. Blair; + The wine, the ale, the toasts, the jokes, the songs, + And all that to such revelry belongs;-- + It may not be! 'twere fearful falling off + To sing such trifles after singing Golf + In most majestic strain; let others dwell + On such, and rack their carnal brains to tell + A tale of sensuality!--Farewell! + +[Footnote 2: Hell is a range of broken ground on St. Andrews Links, +bearing probably the same proportion to the _ordinary_ course of the +Links as hell would to heaven in the opinion of these immortals.] + +[Footnote 3: A place on North Berwick Links, so awkward, that in playing +out of it one is allowed to remove everything, provided the position of +the ball is not altered.] + +[Footnote 4: A long and scientific stroke at golf.] + +[Footnote 5: _Steal_, the act of holing the ball contrary to +probability.] + +[Footnote 6: A slang term for _such_.] + +[Footnote 7: Fifth hole.] + +[Footnote 8: Sixth hole.] + + + + + [Decoration] + + THE FIRST HOLE AT ST. ANDREWS ON A CROWDED DAY. + + _Forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabit._--AEN. i. l. 208. + + + 'Tis morn! and man awakes, by sleep refresh'd, + To do whate'er he has to do with zest; + But at St. Andrews, where my scene is laid, + _One_ only thought can enter every head; + The thought of Golf, to wit--and that engages + Men of all sizes, tempers, ranks, and ages; + The root--the _primum mobile_ of all, + The epidemic of the club and ball; + The work by day, the source of dreams by night, + The never-failing fountain of delight! + Here, Mr. Philp, club-maker, is as great + _As Philip_--as any minister of state! + And every caddy as profess'd a hero + As Captain Cook, or Wellington, or Nero! + For instance--Davie, oldest of the cads, + Who gives _half-one_ to unsuspicious lads, + When he _might_ give them _two_, or even _more_, + And win, perhaps, three matches out of four, + Is just as politic in _his_ affairs + As Talleyrand or Metternich in _theirs_. + He has the statesman's elements, 'tis plain, + Cheat, flatter, humbug--_anything_ for gain; + And had he trod the world's wide field, methinks, + As long as he has trod St. Andrews Links, + He might have been prime minister, or priest, + My lord, or plain _Sir David_ at the least! + + Now, to the ground of Golf my muse shall fly, + The various men assembled to descry, + Nine-tenths of whom, throughout the rolling year, + At the first hole _unfailingly_ appear; + Where, "How d'ye do?" "Fine morning," "Rainy day," + And, "What's the match?" are preludes to the play. + So full the meeting that I scarcely can, + In such a crowd, distinguish man from man. + We'll take them as they come:--He next the wall, + Outside, upon the right, is Mr. Saddell; + And well he plays, though, rising on his toes, + Whiz round his head his _supple_ club he throws. + There, Doctor Moodie, turtle-like, displays + His well-filled paunch, and swipes beyond all praise; + While Cuttlehill, of slang and chatter chief, + Provokes the bile of Captain George Moncrieffe. + See Colonel Playfair, shaped in form _rotund_, + Parade, the unrivall'd Falstaff of the ground; + He laughs and jokes, plays, "what you like," and yet + You'll rarely find him make a foolish bet. + Against the sky, display'd in high relief, + I see the figure of Clanranald's Chief, + Dress'd most correctly in the _fancy_ style, + Well-whisker'd face, and radiant with a smile; + He bows, shakes hands, and has a word for all-- + So did Beau Nash, as master of the ball! + Near him is Saddell, dress'd in blue coat plain, + With lots of Gourlays,[9] free from spot or stain; + He whirls his club to catch the proper _swing_, + And freely bets round all the scarlet ring; + And swears by _Ammon_, he'll engage to drive + As long a ball as any man alive! + That's Major Playfair, a man of nerve unshaken-- + He knows a thing or two, or I'm mistaken; + And when he's press'd, can play a tearing game, + He works for _certainty_ and not for _Fame_! + There's none--I'll back the assertion with a wager-- + Can play the _heavy iron_ like the Major. + Next him is Craigie Halkett, one who can + Swipe out, for distance, against any man; + But in what _course_ the ball so struck may go, + No looker on--not he himself--can know. + See Major Holcroft, he's a steady hand + Among the best of all the Golfing band; + He plays a winning game in every part, + But near the hole displays the greatest art. + There young Patullo stands, and he, methinks, + Can drive the longest ball upon the Links; + And well he plays the spoon and iron, but + He fails a _little_ when he comes to _putt_. + Near Captain Cheape, a sailor by profession + (But not so good at Golf as navigation), + Is Mr. Peter Glass, who once could play + A better game than he can do to-day. + We cannot last for ever! and the _gout_, + Confirmed, is wondrous apt to put us out. + There, to the left, I see Mount-Melville stand + Erect, his _driving putter_ in his hand; + It is a club he cannot leave behind, + It works the balls so well against the wind. + Sir David Erskine has come into play, + He has not won the medal _yet_, but _may_. + Dost love the greatest laugher of the lot?-- + Then play a round with little Mr. Scott: + He is a merry cock, and seems to me + To win or lose with equal ecstasy. + Here's Mr. Messieux, he's a noble player, + But something _nervous_--that's a bad affair; + It sadly spoils his putting, when he's _press'd_-- + But let him _win_, and he will beat the _best_. + That little man that's seated on the ground + In red, must be Carnegie, I'll be bound! + A most conceited dog, not slow to _go it_ + At Golf, or anything--a _sort_ of poet; + He talks to Wood--John Wood--who ranks among + The tip-top hands that to the Club belong; + And Oliphant, the rival of the last, + Whose play, at times, can scarcely be surpass'd. + Who's he that's just arrived?--I know him well; + It is the Cupar Provost, John Dalzell: + When he _does_ hit the ball, he swipes like blazes-- + It is but _seldom_, and _himself_ amazes; + But when he winds his horn, and leads the chase, + The Laird of Lingo's in his proper place. + It has been _said_ that, at the _break of day_ + His Golf is better than his evening play: + That must be scandal; for I am sure that none + Could think of Golf before the rise of sun. + He now is talking to his lady's brother, + A man of politics, Sir Ralph Anstruther: + Were he but once in Parliament, methinks, + And working _there_ as well as on the _Links_, + The burghs, I'll be bound, would not repent them + That they had such a man to represent them: + There's _one thing_ only--when he's _on the roll_, + He must not lose his _nerve_, as when he's near the hole. + Upon his right is Major Bob Anstruther; + Cobbet's _one_ radical--and he's _another_. + + But when we meet, as here, to play at Golf, + Whig, Radical, and Tory--all are off-- + Off the contested politics, I mean-- + And fun and harmony illume the scene. + We make our matches from the love of playing, + Without one loathsome feeling but the _paying_, + And that is lessened by the thought, we _borrow_ + Only to-day what we shall _win_ to-morrow. + Then, here's prosperity to Golf! and long + May those who play be cheerful, fresh, and strong; + When _driving_ ceases, may we still be able + To play the _shorts_, _putt_, and be comfortable! + And to the latest may we fondly cherish + The thoughts of Golf--so let St. Andrews flourish! + +[Footnote 9: Meaning plenty of balls, made by Mr. Gourlay of Bruntsfield +Links, a famous artist. The gentleman alluded to generally has, at +_least_, twelve dozen.] + + + + + [Decoration] + + ANOTHER PEEP AT THE LINKS. + + _Alter erit tum Typhys, et altera quae vehat Argo + Dilectos heroas--erunt etiam altera bella._ + VIRG. GEORGIC. + + + Awake, my slumb'ring Muse, and plume thy wing, + Our former theme--the Game of Golf--to sing! + For since the subject last inspired my pen, + Ten years have glided by, or nearly ten. + Still the old hands at Golf delight to play-- + Still new succeed them as they pass away; + Still ginger-beer and parliament are seen + Serv'd out by Houris to the peopled green; + And still the royal game maintains its place, + And will maintain it through each rising race. + + Still Major Playfair shines, a star at Golf; + And still the Colonel--though a _little_ off; + The former, skill'd in many a curious art, + As chemist, mechanist, can play his part, + And understands, besides the pow'r of swiping, + _Electro-Talbot_ and Daguerreotyping. + Still Colonel Holcroft steady walks the grass, + And still his putting nothing can surpass-- + And still he drives, unless the weather's rough, + Not quite so far as _once_, but far enough. + + Still Saddell walks, superb, improved in play, + Though his blue jacket now is turn'd to grey; + Still are his balls as rife and clean as wont-- + Still swears by Ammon, and still bets the _blunt_-- + Still plays all matches--still is often beat-- + And still in iced punch drowns each fresh defeat. + + Still on the green Clanranald's chief appears, + As gay as ever, as untouch'd by years; + He laughs at Time, and Time, perhaps through whim, + Respects his nonchalance, and laughs at him; + Just fans him with his wings, but spares his head, + As loth to lose a subject so well bred. + + Sir Ralph returns--he has been absent long-- + No less renown'd in Golfing than in song; + With continental learning richly stored, + Teutonic Bards translated and explored; + A _literaire_--a German scholar now, + With all _Griselda's_ honours on his brow! + + The Links have still the pleasure to behold + Messieux, complete in matches, as of old; + He, modest, tells you that his day's gone by: + If any think it _is so_--let them try! + Still portly William Wood is to be seen, + As good as ever on the velvet green, + The same unfailing trump; but John, methinks, + Has taken to the _Turf_, and shies the Links. + + Whether the _Leger_ and the _Derby_ pay + As well as _Hope Grant_, I can scarcely say; + But let that be--'tis better, John, old fellow, + To pluck the _rooks_, than _rook_ the _violoncello_. + + Permit me just a moment to digress-- + Friendship would chide me should I venture less-- + The poor Chinese, there cannot be a doubt, + Will shortly be demolish'd out and out; + But--O how blest beyond the common line + Of conquer'd nations by the Power divine!-- + _Saltoun_ to cut their yellow throats, and then + _Hope Grant_ to play their requiem-notes--Amen! + + Still George Moncrieffe appears the crowd before, + _Lieutenant-Colonel_--Captain now no more; + Improv'd in ev'rything--in looks and life, + And, more than all, the husband of a wife! + + As in the olden time, see Craigie Halkett-- + Wild strokes and swiping, jest, and fun, and rackett; + He leaves us now. But in three years, I trust, + He will return, and sport his _muzzle dust_, + Play Golf again, and patronise all cheer, + From noble _Claret_ down to _bitter beer_. + + Mount-Melville still erect as ever stands, + And plies his club with energetic hands, + Plays short and steady, often is a winner-- + A better Captain never graced a dinner. + + But where is _Oliphant_, that artist grand? + He scarce appears among the Golfing band. + No doubt he's married; but when that befalls + Is there an end to putters, clubs, and balls? + Not so, methinks: _Sir David Baird_ can play + With any Golfer of the present day; + The _Laird of Lingo_, Major Bob Anstruther-- + Both married, and the one as good's the other. + + Dalgleish and Haig, two better men to play + You scarce will meet upon a summer's day; + Alike correct, whatever may befall, + Swipe, iron, putter, quarter-stroke, and all. + + Old Robert Lindsay plays a decent game, + Tho' not a Golfer of _enormous_ fame. + Well can he fish with minnow as with fly, + Paint, and play _farthing-brag_ uncommonly; + Give jolly dinners, justice courts attend-- + A good companion and a steady friend. + + But _Cuttlehill_, that wonderful _buffoon_, + We meet him now no more, as wont, at noon; + No more along the green his jokes are heard, + And some who _dared_ not _then_, now take the word. + Farewell! facetious Jem--too surely gone-- + A loss to us--_Joe Miller_ to _Boulogne_. + + Poor Peter Glass, a worthy soul and _blue_, + Has paid the debt of nature--'tis too true! + Long did his candle flicker with the gout-- + One puff, a little stronger, _blew it out_. + And good Patullo! he who drove as none, + Since him, have driven--he is also gone! + And Captain Cheape--who does not mourn the day + That snatch'd so good, so kind a friend away? + One more I name--and only one--but he + Was older far, and lower in degree-- + Great Davie Robertson, the eldest cad, + In whom the good was stronger than the bad; + He sleeps in death! and with him sleeps a skill + Which Davie, statesmanlike, could wield at will! + Sound be his slumbers! yet if he should wake + In worlds where Golf is play'd, himself he'd shake, + And look about, and tell each young beginner, + "I'll gie half-ane--nae mair, as I'm a sinner." + He leaves a son, and Allan is his name, + In Golfing far beyond his father's fame; + Tho' in diplomacy, I shrewdly guess, + His skill's inferior, and his fame is less. + + Now for the _mushrooms_--old, perchance, or new-- + But whom my former strain did not review: + I'll name an _old one_, Patton, Tom, of Perth, + Short, stout, grey-headed, but of sterling worth! + A Golfer perfect--something, it may be, + The worse for _wear_, but few so true as he; + Good-humour'd when behind as when ahead, + And drinks like blazes till he goes to bed. + His friend is Peddie, not an awful swiper, + But at the putting he's a very _viper_: + Give him a man to drive him through the green, + And he'll be bad to beat, it will be seen-- + Patton and Peddie--Peddie and Patton, + Are just the people one should bet upon. + + There Keith with Andrew Wauchope works away, + And most respectable the game they play; + The navy Captain's steadiness and age + Give him, perhaps, the _pull_--but I'll engage, + Ere some few months, or rather weeks, are fled, + Youth and activity will take the lead. + + See Gilmour next--and he can drive a ball + As far as any man among them all; + In ev'ry hunting-field can lead the van, + And is throughout a perfect gentleman. + + Next comes a handsome man, with Roman nose + And whiskers dark--Wolfe Murray I suppose; + He has begun but lately, still he plays + A fairish game, and therefore merits praise; + Ask him when at his _worst_, and he will say, + "'Tis bad--but, Lord! how I play'd _yesterday_!" + + Another man with whiskers--stout and strong-- + A Golfer too who swipes his balls along, + And well he putts, but I should simply say, + His _own opinion's_ better than his play; + Dundas can sing a song, or glee, or catch, + I think far better than he makes a match. + + But who is he whose hairy lips betray + Hussar or Lancer? Muse, oh kindly say! + 'Tis Captain Feilden. Lord, how hard he hits! + 'Tis strange he does not knock the ball to bits! + Sometimes he hits it fair, and makes a stroke + Whose distance Saddell's envy might provoke; + But take his _common_ play; the worst that ever + Play'd Golf might give him _one_, and beat him clever. + Bad tho' he be, the Captain has done more + Than ever man who play'd at Golf before: + _One_ thund'ring ball he drove--'twas in despair-- + Wide of the hole, indeed, but kill'd a _hare_! + + Ah! Captain Campbell, old Schehallion, see! + Most have play'd longer, few so well as he;-- + A sterling Highlander, and that's no trifle,-- + So thinks the _Gael_--a workman with a rifle; + Keeps open house--a very proper thing-- + And, tho' rheumatic, _fiddles_ like a king! + + Sir Thomas of Moncrieffe--I cannot doubt + But he will be a Golfer out-and-out; + Tho' now, perhaps, he's off, and careless too-- + His misses numerous, his hits are few; + But he is zealous; and the time will be + When few will better play the game than he. + Balbirnie and Makgill will both be good-- + Strong, active, lathy fellows; so they should. + + But for John Grant, a clever fellow too, + I really fear that Golf will never do. + 'Tis strange, indeed; for he can paint, and ride, + And hunt the hounds, and many a thing beside; + Amuse his friends with anecdote and fun; + But when he takes his club in hand--he's _done_! + Stay! I retract!--Since writing the above, + I've seen him play a better game, by Jove; + So much beyond what one could have believ'd, + That I confess myself for once deceived; + And if he can go on the season through, + There's still a _chance_ that he may really _do_. + + I've kept a man, in _petto_, for the last-- + Not an old Golfer, but by few surpassed-- + Great Captain Fairlie! When he drives a ball-- + One of his _best_--for he don't hit them all, + It then requires no common stretch of sight + To watch its progress, and to see it light. + + One moment: I've another to define-- + A famous sportsman, and a judge of wine-- + Whom faithful Mem'ry offers to my view; + He made the game a study, it is true; + Still, many play as well but, for _position_ + John Buckle fairly beggars competition! + + And now farewell! I am the worse for wear-- + Grey is my jacket, growing grey my hair! + And though my play is pretty much the same, + Mine is, at best, a despicable game. + But still I like it--still delight to sing + Clubs, players, caddies, balls, and everything. + But all that's bright must fade, and we who play, + Like those before us, soon must pass away; + Yet it requires no prophet's skill to trace + The royal game thro' each succeeding race: + While on the tide of generations flows, + It still shall bloom, a never-fading rose; + And still St. Andrews Links, with flags unfurl'd, + Shall peerless reign, and challenge all the world! + + [Decoration] + + + + + [Decoration] + + THE NINE HOLES OF THE LINKS OF ST. ANDREWS. + + IN A SERIES OF SONNETS. + + + I. THE FIRST OR BRIDGE HOLE. + + Sacred to hope and promise is the spot-- + To Philp's and to the Union Parlour near, + To every Golfer, every caddie dear-- + Where we strike off--oh, ne'er to be forgot, + Although in lands most distant we sojourn. + But not without its perils is the place; + Mark the opposing caddie's sly grimace, + Whispering: "He's on the road!" "He's in the burn!" + So is it often in the grander game + Of life, when, eager, hoping for the palm, + Breathing of honour, joy, and love and fame, + Conscious of nothing like a doubt or qualm, + We start, and cry: "Salute us, muse of fire!" + And the first footstep lands us in the mire. + + R. C. + + + II. THE SECOND OR CARTGATE HOLE. + + Fearful to Tyro is thy primal stroke, + O Cartgate! for behold the bunker opes + Right to the _teeing_-place its yawning chops, + Hope to engulf ere it is well awoke. + That passed, a Scylla in the form of rushes + Nods to Charybdis which in ruts appears: + He will be safe who in the middle steers; + One step aside, the ball destruction brushes. + Golf symbols thus again our painful life, + Dangers in front, and pitfalls on each hand: + But see, one glorious cleek-stroke from the sand + Sends Tyro home, and saves all further strife! + He's in at six--old Sandy views the lad + With new respect, remarking: "That's no bad!" + + R. C. + + + III. THE THIRD HOLE. + + No rest in Golf--still perils in the path: + Here, playing a good ball, perhaps it goes + Gently into the _Principalian Nose_, + Or else _Tam's Coo_, which equally is death. + Perhaps the wind will catch it in mid-air, + And take it to _the Whins_--"Look out, look out! + Tom Morris, be, oh be, a faithful scout!" + But Tom, though _links-eyed_, finds not anywhere. + Such thy mishaps, O Merit: feeble balls + Meanwhile roll on, and lie upon the green; + 'Tis well, my friends, if you, when this befalls, + Can spare yourselves the infamy of spleen. + It only shows the ancient proverb's force, + That you may further go and fare the worse. + + R. C. + + + IV. THE FOURTH OR GINGER-BEER HOLE. + + Though thou hast lost this last unlucky hole, + I say again, betake thee not to swearing, + Or any form of speech profanely daring, + Though some allege it tendeth to console. + Better do thou thy swelling griefs control, + Sagacious that at hand a joy awaits thee + (Since out of doubt a glass of beer elates thee), + Without that frightful peril to thy soul. + A glass of beer! go dip thine angry beak in it, + And straight its rage will melt to soft placidity, + That solace finding thou art wise to seek in it; + Ah, do not thou on this poor plea reject it, + That in thy inwards it will breed acidity-- + One glass of Stewart's brandy will correct it. + + P. A. + + + V. THE HELL HOLE. + + What daring genius first yclept thee Hell? + What high, poetic, awe-struck grand old Golfer, + Much more of a mythologist than scoffer! + Whoe'er he was, the name befits thee well. + "All hope abandon, ye who enter here," + Is written awful o'er thy gloomy jaws, + A threat to all save Allan might give pause: + And frequent from within come tones of fear-- + Dread sound of cleeks, which ever fall in vain, + And--for mere mortal patience is but scanty-- + Shriekings thereafter, as of souls in pain, + Dire gnashings of the teeth, and horrid curses, + With which I need not decorate my verses, + Because, in fact, you'll find them all in Dante. + + P. A. + + + VI. THE HEATHER HOLE. + + Ah me! prodigious woes do still environ-- + To quote verbatim from some grave old poet-- + The man who needs must meddle with his _iron_; + And here, if ever, thou art doomed to know it. + For now behold thee, doubtless for thy sins, + Tilling some bunker, as if on a lease of it, + And so assiduous to make due increase of it; + Or wandering homeless through a world of whins! + And when, these perils past, thou seemest _dead_. + And hop'st a half--O woe, the ball goes crooked, + Making thy foe just one more hole ahead, + Surely a consummation all too sad, + Without that sneering devilish "Never lookit," + The parting comment of the opposing cad. + + P. A. + + + VII. THE HIGH OR EDEN HOLE. + + The shelly pit is cleared at one fell blow, + A stroke to be remembered in your dreams! + But here the Eden on your vision gleams, + Lovely, but treach'rous in its solemn flow. + The hole is perched aloft, too near the tide, + The green is small, and broken is the ground + Which doth that little charmed space surround! + Go not too far, and go not to a side; + Take the short spoon to do your second stroke; + Sandy entreats you will the wind take heed on, + For, oh, it would a very saint provoke, + If you should let your ball plump in the Eden. + You do your best, but who can fate control? + So here against you is another hole. + + R. C. Jr. + + + VIII. THE SHORT HOLE. + + Brief but not easy is the next adventure; + Legend avers it has been done in _one_, + Though such long _steals_ are now but rarely done-- + In _three_ 'twere well that you the hole should enter. + Strangely original is this bit of ground, + For, while at hand the smooth and smiling green, + One bunker wide and bushy yawns between, + Where Tyro's gutta is too often found. + Nervous your rival strikes and heels his ball-- + From that whin-bush at six he'll scarce extract it: + Yours, by no blunder this time counteracted, + Is with the grass-club lofted over all. + There goes a hole in your side--how you hug it! + Much as th' Australian digger does a nugget. + + R. C. Jr. + + + IX. THE END HOLE. + + The end, but not the end--the distance-post + That halves the game--a serious point to thee, + For if one more thou losest, 'twill be _three_: + Yet even in that case, think not all is lost. + Men four behind have been, on the return, + So favoured by Olympus, or by care, + That all their terrors vanished into air, + And caddies cried them _dormy_ at the burn! + I could quote proverbs, did I speak at random: + Full many a broken ship comes into port, + Full many a cause is gained at last resort, + But Golf impresses most, _Nil desperandum_. + Turn, then, my son, with two against, nor dread + To gain the winning-post with one ahead. + + R. C. Jr. + + [Decoration] + + + + + [Decoration] + + + The following SCRAP relative to GOLF occurs in a very rare work + entitled _Westminster Drollery_, 12mo, 1671, p. 28. + + A Song called-- + + "And to each pretty lass + We will give a green gown." + + Thus all our life long we are frolick and gay, + And instead of Court revels we merrily play + At Trap, at Rules, and at Barly-break run, + At GOFF and at Foot-Ball; and when we have done + These innocent sports, we'll laugh and lie down, + And to each pretty lass + We will give a green gown. + + _N.B._--The above was copied from a book containing many + curious Scraps relating to Golfing, Archery, and Curling, + belonging to JAMES MAIDMENT, Esq., advocate. + + + + + [Decoration] + + THE GOLFER'S GARLAND.[10] + + + Of rural diversions, too long has the chase + All the honours usurped, and assumed the chief place; + But truth bids the muse from henceforward proclaim, + That Golfing of field sports stands foremost in fame. + With a fal-the-ral-a, etc. + + At Golf we contend without rancour or spleen, + And bloodless the laurels we reap on the green; + From vig'rous exertions our pleasures arise, + And to crown our delight no poor fugitive dies. + With a fal-the-ral-a, etc. + + O'er the green see our heroes in uniform clad, + In parties well matched how they gracefully spread, + Whilst with long strokes, and short strokes, they tend to the goal, + And with putt well directed plump into the hole. + With a fal-the-ral-a, etc. + + From exercise keen, from strength active and bold, + We traverse the green, and forget to grow old; + Blue devils, diseases, dull sorrow and care, + Are knock'd down by our balls as they whiz through the air. + With a fal-the-ral-a, etc. + + The strong-sinew'd son of Alcmena would drub, + And demolish a monster when armed with a club; + But what were the monsters which Hercules slew, + To those fiends which each week with our balls we subdue? + With a fal-the-ral-a, etc. + + Health, happiness, harmony, friendship, and fame, + Are the fruits and rewards of our favourite game: + A sport so distinguished the fair must approve; + So to Golf give the day and the evening to love. + With a fal-the-ral-a, etc. + + Our first standing toast we to Golfing assign, + No other amusement so truly divine; + It has charms for the aged, as well as the young, + Then as first of field sports let its praises be sung. + With a fal-the-ral-a, etc. + + And to crown our devotion, and grateful goodwill, + A bumper brimhigh to their healths let us fill; + Our charming instructresses--blessings attend them, + And cursed be the clown who would dare to offend them! + With a fal-the-ral-a, etc. + + The next we shall drink to our friends far and near; + To the mem'ry of those who no longer appear, + Who have play'd their last round, and passed over that bourne + From which the best Golfer can never return. + With a fal-the-ral-a, etc. + + Then fill up your glass, and let each social soul + Drink to the putter, the balls, and the hole; + And may every true Golfer invariably find + His opponent play fair, and his fair one prove kind. + With a fal-the-ral-a, etc. + +[Footnote 10: From Mathieson's Poem "The Goff" 1743, with the exception +of the 5th verse, which was copied by a member of the Burgess Club from +a version of the song found on an old bookstall.] + + + + + [Decoration] + + THE LINKS O' INNERLEVEN. + + SUNG AT THE AUTUMN MEETING OF THE INNERLEVEN + GOLFING CLUB, 1841. + + TUNE--_Dainty Davie._ + + + Wha wad be free from doctor's bills-- + From trash o' powders and o' pills-- + Will find a cure for a' his ills + On the Links o' Innerleven. + For there whar lassies bleach their claes, + And bairnies toddle doun the braes, + The merry Golfer daily plays + On the Links o' Innerleven. + + Sae hie ye to the Golfer's ha', + And there, arranged alang the wa', + O' presses ye will see a raw, + At the Club o' Innerleven. + There from some friendly box ye'll draw + A club and second-handed ba',-- + A Gourlay pill's the best o' a' + For health at Innerleven. + + And though the Golfer's sport be keen, + Yet oft upon the putting-green + He'll rest to gaze upon the scene + That lies round Innerleven-- + To trace the steamboat's crumpled way + Through Largo's loch-like silvery bay, + Or to hear the hushing breakers play + On the beach o' Innerleven. + + When in the evening of my days, + I wish I could a cottage raise + Beneath the snugly-sheltering braes + O'erhanging Innerleven. + There in the plot before the door + I'd raise my vegetable store, + Or tug for supper at the oar + In the bay near Innerleven. + + But daily on thy matchless ground + I and my caddie would be found, + Describing still another round + On thy Links, sweet Innerleven! + Would I care then for fortune's rubs, + And a' their Kirk and State hubbubs, + While I could stump and swing my clubs + On the Links o' Innerleven? + + And when the e'ening grey sat doun, + I'd cast aside my tacket[11] shoon, + And crack o' putter, cleek, and spoon,[12] + Wi' a friend at Innerleven. + Syne o'er a glass o' Cameron Brig,[13] + A nightcap we would doucely swig, + Laughing at Conservative and Whig, + By the Links o' Innerleven. + +[Footnote 11: Golfers wear tacks in their shoes that they may stand firm +when they strike.] + +[Footnote 12: Names for different kinds of clubs.] + +[Footnote 13: The name of a noted distillery.] + + + + + [Decoration] + + IN PRAISE OF _GUTTA PERCHA_. + + (1856.) + + TUNE--_Dainty Davie._ + + + Of a' the changes that of late + Have shaken Europe's social state-- + Let wondering politicians prate, + And 'bout them mak a wark a'-- + A subject mair congenial here, + And dearer to a Golfer's ear + I sing--the change brought round last year + By balls of _Gutta Percha_! + + Tho' Gouf be of our games most rare, + Yet truth to speak, the tear and wear + O' balls was felt to be severe, + And source o' great vexation; + When Gourlay's balls cost half-a-croun, + And Allan's no a farthing doun, + The feck o's wad been harried soon, + In this era of taxation. + + But times are changed--we dinna care + Though we may ne'er drive leather mair, + Be't stuffed wi' feather or wi' hair-- + For noo we're independent. + At last a substance we hae got, + Frae which for scarce mair than a groat, + A ba' comes that can row and stot-- + A ba' the most transcendent. + + Hail, _Gutta Percha_, precious gum! + O'er Scotland's links lang may ye bum; + Some purse-proud billies haw and hum, + And say ye're douf at fleein'; + But let them try ye fairly out, + Wi' ony balls for days about, + Your merits they will loudly tout, + And own they hae been leein'. + + And noo that a' your praise is spent, + Ye'll listen to a friend's comment, + And kindlier tak on wi' paint, + Then ye wad be perfection. + And sure some scientific loon, + On Golfing will bestow a boon, + And gie ye a cosmetic soon, + And brighten your complexion. + + [Decoration] + + + + + [Decoration] + + "FAR AND SURE!" + + BY THE LATE SHERIFF LOGAN. + + + "Far and sure! far and sure!" 'twas the cry of our fathers, + 'Twas a cry which their forefathers heard; + 'Tis the cry of their sons when the mustering gathers: + When we're gone may it still be the word. + + "Far and sure!" there is honour and hope in the sound; + Long over these Links may it roll! + It will--O it will! for each face around + Shows its magic is felt in each soul. + + Let it guide us in life; at the desk or the bar, + It will shield us from folly's gay lure; + Then, tho' rough be the course, and the winning post _far_, + We will carry the stakes--O be _sure_! + + Let it guide us in Golf, whether "Burgess" or "Star;" + At the last round let none look demure: + All Golfers are brothers when _driving_ is _far_, + When putting is canny and _sure_. + + "Far and sure! far and sure!" fill the bumper and drain it, + May our motto for ever endure; + May time never maim it, nor dishonour stain it; + Then drink, brothers, drink, "Far and sure!" + + [Decoration] + + + + + [Decoration] + + SONG. + + TUNE--_Scotland yet._ + + + Gae bring my guid auld clubs ance mair-- + Come, laddie, bring them fast, + For I maun hae anither game, + E'er the autumn season's past; + And trow ye as I play, my lads, + My song shall ever be, + "Auld Scotland's royal game o' Gouf-- + Our country's game for me." + Then here's a toast to Goufin' yet, + Wi' a' the honours three. + + Throw by that walloping surtout-- + On wi' my auld red jacket-- + Haul aff thae gripless Wellingtons + For yon shoon wi' mony a tacket. + Hang up that snoring Albert hat-- + Yon foraging-cap for me; + And now a Golfer I walk forth, + Frae worldly care set free. + Then here's a toast, etc. + + Now, laddie, pouch thae Gourlay ba's, + Wi' joy they'll dance a reel-- + My play-club capers in my hand, + As supple as an eel. + And see! my partner's on the green, + His ba' upon the tee-- + Impatient, round he swings his club, + Making heads o' gowans flee. + Then here's a toast, etc. + + How sweet's the air upon the links + That stretch along the sea! + Where, bending down white clover heads. + In silence sips the bee. + Our steps how light! as on we speed + O'er buoyant knowes o' balm, + To where our balls in distance lie, + Like mushrooms on the lawn. + Then here's a toast, etc. + + And 'tween each stroke how socially + Abreast in crack we go, + And shape o' club and mak o' ba' + Discuss wi' sportsman's glow. + Then hale-lung'd laughter peals aloud, + And banter stingless flies, + And tears o' mirth astonished run + From sad dyspeptics' eyes. + Then here's a toast, etc. + + And when some rounds demand a rest, + And appetite is keen, + How sweet to taste the Golfer's fare, + Reclining on the green! + Ne'er aldermen at turtle feast + Washed over with champagne, + Rejoiced like us, as baps we tear, + And jugs o' "Berwick's" drain. + Then here's a toast, etc. + + Our caddies at our feet reclined, + Their sheaves o' clubs at rest-- + Happy to hear the Golfers' lore, + Chew on wi' silent zest. + But up, like giants flushed with wine, + Again our clubs we wield-- + We feel new vigour in our arms, + And ardent take the field. + Then here's a toast, etc. + + Thus on we've toiled at Dubbieside, + But 'neath the Lomond hill + The sun has sunk, and the whirling din + Has ceased at Kirkland Mill. + The sand-eel crowd is thickening black + By the mouth o' Leven stream, + And the wearied _Tar_ in Largo Bay + Lets off the roaring _steam_. + So here's a toast, etc. + + So here's a health to our ain club, + St. Andrews next, our mither-- + A bumper to Dunbarnie next, + Our neibour and our brither: + Auld Dubbieside salutes ye a'; + And if you wish to meet her, + You'll find her ready at a ca', + Wi' her gallant captain PETER. + So here's a toast, etc. + + [Decoration] + + + + + [Decoration] + + A GOLFING SONG. + + BY MR. JAMES BALLANTINE. + + TUNE--_Let Haughty Gaul._ + + + Come, leave your dingy desks and shops. + Ye sons of ancient Reekie, + And by green fields and sunny slopes, + For healthy pastime seek ye. + Don't bounce about your "_dogs of war_," + Nor at our _shinties_ scoff, boys, + But learn our motto, "_Sure and Far_," + Then come and play at Golf, boys. + _Chorus_--Three rounds of Bruntsfield Links will chase + All murky vapours off, boys; + And nothing can your sinews brace + Like the glorious game of Golf, boys. + + Above our head the clear blue sky, + We bound the gowan'd sward o'er, + And as our balls fly far and high, + Our bosoms glow with ardour; + While dear Edina, Scotland's Queen, + Her misty cap lifts off, boys, + And smiles serenely on the green, + Graced by the game of Golf, boys. + _Chorus_--Three rounds, etc. + + We putt, we drive, we laugh, we chat, + Our strokes and jokes aye clinking, + We banish all extraneous fat, + And all extraneous thinking. + We'll cure you of a summer cold, + Or of a winter cough, boys, + We'll make you young, even when you're old, + So come and play at Golf, boys. + _Chorus_--Three rounds, etc. + + When in the dumps with mulligrubs, + Or doyte with barley-bree, boys, + Go get you of the green three rubs, + 'Twill set you on the "_Tee_," boys. + There's no disease we cannot cure, + No care we cannot doff, boys; + Our aim is ever "_Far and Sure_"-- + So come and play at Golf, boys. + _Chorus_--Three rounds, etc. + + O blessings on pure cauler air, + And every healthy sport, boys, + That makes sweet Nature seem more fair, + And makes long life seem short, boys; + That warms your hearts with genial glow, + And makes you halve your loaf, boys, + With every needy child of woe-- + So bless the game of Golf, boys. + _Chorus_--Three rounds, etc. + + Then don your brilliant scarlet coats, + With your bright blue velvet caps, boys. + And some shall play the _rocket shots_ + And some the _putting paps_, boys. + No son of Scotland, man or boy, + Shall e'er become an oaf, boys, + Who gathers friendship, health, and joy, + In playing at the Golf, boys. + _Chorus_--Three rounds, etc. + + [Decoration] + + + + + [Decoration] + + GOLFING SONG. + + TUNE--_Clean Pease Strae._ + + + When Tom and me were laddies, + Oor pastimes were but sma'-- + A game at common shinty, + Or playin' at the ba'; + But lang since then a game we ken, + Enticin' great and sma': + A king I ween aroun' Leith green + Has often gowff'd the ba'. + + Wi' glorious Gowff brave Scotia's game, + Oor youth comes back ance mair, + When, swift and free as birds on wing, + Oor balls fly through the air. + The rays o' fortune's golden star + Most earthly ills can cure; + Gowff helps to keep the others "_far_," + Or makes their absence "_sure_." + + When ice is keen the curlin' steen + Wi' birr gaes straught awa', + And cricket on the meadow green, + Seems manly, brisk, and braw; + But, laddie, tak a club in han', + Then tee and drive the ba'; + Ye'll find the royal game o' Gowff + Is better than them a'. + + Oor volunteers wi' guns and spears + Keep foreign foes in awe; + Noo Britain's youth shield north an' south, + Laigh cot and stately ha'; + Sae ne'er a foe shall Scotland fear + While Scotland's game we play, + Though we should leave the _puttin'_ green + To buckle for the fray. + + [Decoration] + + + _Printed by_ R. CLARK, _Edinburgh_. + + * * * * * + + + + +Transcriber's Notes: + +Italics are indicated by _underscores_. Small caps are indicated by ALL +CAPS. + +[Decoration]s are predominantly intertwined animals in the Celtic style, +used to mark the beginning or end of a canto or poem. + +Dialect and archaic spelling abound in the original and are retained +here. Variations in hyphenation, punctuation, and use of accents appear +as in the original, except as noted below. + + Page vii: added comma (DRYSDALE,) + Page 10: _this_ to this (_Pygmalion_ this stout arm) + Page 10: spelling retained from original (Goliah's spear) + Page 37: hyphen removed before "and" (_Electro-Talbot_ and) + Page 69: "bouyant" to "buoyant" (O'er buoyant knowes) + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Poems on Golf, by Edinburgh Burgess Golfing Society + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS ON GOLF *** + +***** This file should be named 37323.txt or 37323.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/3/2/37323/ + +Produced by C.S. Beers, Greg Bergquist and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +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 1.F.3. 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, are 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. |