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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-03-03 18:54:45 -0800 |
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diff --git a/44641-h.zip b/44641-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7189015 --- /dev/null +++ b/44641-h.zip diff --git a/44641-h/44641-h.htm b/44641-h/44641-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9ef2d5a --- /dev/null +++ b/44641-h/44641-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2768 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en" xml:lang="en"> + <head> <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Boer War Lyrics, by Louis Selmer. +</title> +<style type="text/css"> + p {margin-top:.2em;text-align:justify;margin-bottom:.2em;text-indent:4%;} + +.blockq {border:5px solid black;padding:.25%; +margin-right:auto;margin-left:auto;max-width:25em;} + +.blockqq {border:2px solid black;text-align: center; +margin-top:.5%;margin-bottom:.5%; +padding:5.5%;} + +.c {text-align:center;text-indent:0%;} + +.cb {text-align:center;text-indent:0%;font-weight:bold;} + +.eng {font-family: "Old English Text MT",fantasy,sans-serif;} + +small {font-size: 80%;} + + h1 {text-align:center;clear:both; +color:#A80F07;padding:3%;} + + h2 {margin-top:2%;margin-bottom:1%;text-align:center;clear:both; + font-size:100%;font-weight:normal;} + + @media print, handheld +{h2 +{page-break-before: always;} +} + + hr {width: 50%;margin:5% auto 5% auto;border:4px double gray;} + + table {margin-top:2%;margin-bottom:2%;margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;border:none;text-align:left;} + + body{margin-left:2%;margin-right:2%;background:#fdfdfd;color:black;font-family:"Times New Roman", serif;font-size:medium;} + +a:link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} + + link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} + +a:visited {background-color:#ffffff;color:purple;text-decoration:none;} + +a:hover {background-color:#ffffff;color:#FF0000;text-decoration:underline;} + +.smcap {font-variant:small-caps;font-size:100%;} + + img {border:none;} + +.figcenter {margin-top:3%;margin-bottom:3%; +margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;text-align:center;text-indent:0%;} + +.footnote {width:95%;margin:auto 3% 1% auto;font-size:0.9em; +position: relative;text-align:center;} + +.label {position:relative;left:-.5em;top:0;text-align:left;font-size:.8em;} + +.fnanchor {vertical-align:30%;font-size:.8em;} + +div.poetry {text-align:center;} +div.poem {font-size:90%;margin:auto auto;text-indent:0%; +display: inline-block; text-align: left;} +.poem .stanza {margin-top: 1em;margin-bottom:1em;} +.poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i5 {display: block; margin-left: 2.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i7 {display: block; margin-left: 7em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +</style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Boer War Lyrics, by Louis Selmer + +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/license + + +Title: Boer War Lyrics + +Author: Louis Selmer + +Release Date: January 10, 2014 [EBook #44641] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BOER WAR LYRICS *** + + + + +Produced by Charlene Taylor, Chuck Greif and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<hr /> + +<p class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="354" height="550" alt="bookcover" title="" /> +</p> + +<p><a name="page_i" id="page_i"></a></p> + +<div class="blockq"> +<div class="blockqq"> +<h1>BOER WAR LYRICS</h1> +</div> +<div class="blockqq"> + +<p class="cb"> <br />BY<br /> +LOUIS SELMER<br /> <br /> +</p> +</div> +<div class="blockqq"> +<p class="cb">THE<br /> +<img src="images/abbey.jpg" +width="200" +height="30" +alt="Abbey Press" +/><br /> + +PUBLISHERS<br /> + +114<br /> +FIFTH AVENUE<br /> +<span class="eng">London</span> + NEW YORK + <span class="eng">Montreal</span></p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="c"><a name="page_ii" id="page_ii"></a><br /> +<br /> +Copyright, 1903,<br /> +by<br /> +THE<br /><br /> +<img src="images/abbey1.jpg" +width="125" +height="18" +alt="Abbey Press" +/> +</p> + +<p><a name="page_iii" id="page_iii"></a> </p> + +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="1" summary=""> +<tr><td align="right" colspan="2">PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td>Prelude</td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_vii">vii</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#ON_THE_TRAIL_OF_THE_LION">On the Trail of the Lion</a></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_003">3</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_GIBBETSONG">The Gibbet-Song</a></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_028">28</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_SCAR">The Scar</a></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_048">48</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#TO_ENGLAND">To England: A Forecast</a></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_056">56</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#WAR">War</a></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_060">60</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#CLIO">Clio</a></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_066">66</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#AVE_PAX">Ave Pax</a></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_068">68</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#ALPHA">Alpha</a></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_070">70</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#OMEGA">Omega</a></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_071">71</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#GREATNESS">Greatness</a></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_072">72</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#PETER_CRONJE">Peter Cronje</a></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_082">82</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#CHRISTIAN_DE_WET1">Christian De Wet</a></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_084">84</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#OOM_PAUL">Oom Paul</a></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_085">85</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#CECIL_RHODES">Cecil Rhodes</a></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_087">87</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#CHAMBERLAIN">Chamberlain</a></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_089">89</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#SALISBURY">Salisbury</a></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_090">90</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#PEACE_PENDING">Peace Pending</a></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_092">92</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#PEACE">Peace</a></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_096">96</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#AFTER">After</a></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_099">99</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#CHRISTIAN_DE_WET2">Christian De Wet</a></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_101">101</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#SINE_DIE">Sine Die</a></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_103">103</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#A_CONCORDANCE">A Concordance</a></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_104">104</a></td></tr> + +</table> + +<p><a name="page_iv" id="page_iv"></a></p> + +<p><a name="page_v" id="page_v"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE.</h2> + +<p>M<small>OST</small> of the verses in this little volume were conceived and written, if +not quite finished, at the time of Cronje’s surrender at Paardeberg.</p> + +<p>A certain doubt, however, as to any message of theirs, though modestly +set off by a belief in their polemic and literary value, has, I think +now, unduly delayed their advent into the crowded world of print; and, +though the present juncture of a heralded, but, by no means, perfected +peace, be perhaps not a very opportune moment for their publication, I +have yet thought well to give them forth; the more, since what so be the +outcome of the negotiations pending, and whichsoever be the motive of +the stronger party thereto—whether a bitter, though slowly realized +necessity, or, a trick of pure heart, or, say, tardy insight and +charity, both—be this as it may—the long, though fruitless attempt on +England’s part to compel<a name="page_vi" id="page_vi"></a> a surrender by the South African republics of +their political existence, illustrating and upholding, as no modern +exhibition of this kind has done, how rampant is still in Man, and +collective Man especially, a tacit faith in the bigger fist, or, +euphemistically speaking, the predatory law of nature—this, I repeat +it, can never, it seems to me, be sufficiently reprehended; and a hearty +condemnation of it may, therefore, fitly form the theme of +conscientious, if necessarily, censorious verse: with which contention +the following pieces are frankly submitted, even at this late day of a +stupendous struggle of moral Right—whatsoever its intellectual grounds +and equipment—against an aggressive and overweening Might, whose +partial defence allowed, rests, after all, and as already maintained, +its wider base on purely material force, on that callous and objective +expediency, which History, in her account of human odds, evermore +reveals, and, far too often, glaringly condones.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">New York</span>, May, 1902.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>Since the above was set down, Peace has at last gone forth, and of a +pace with the better<a name="page_vii" id="page_vii"></a> drift and traditions of England; but even so, +there seems no valid ground why these Lyrics should not be heard, as an +exponent in brief—inadequate, if you like, yet human no less—of a, for +a long time, not to be forgotten broil, if, indeed, the sad imp of +Contention has had his last say about it.</p> + +<p>November, 1902.</p> + +<p><a name="page_viii" id="page_viii"></a></p> + +<p><a name="page_001" id="page_001"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="PRELUDE" id="PRELUDE"></a>PRELUDE.</h2> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Out of rare heart-deeps flowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Primer than thought-spring founts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upward, ’gainst vaster knowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lightsome the Song-word mounts.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And athrob with some faith etern,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From Being’s deep-violed strings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Draweth, to heaves that burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The advent and sooth of things.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Invokes unto Song, where the still Hopes go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Spirit’s immutable law.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p><a name="page_002" id="page_002"></a> </p> + +<p><a name="page_003" id="page_003"></a> </p> + +<p class="cb"><big><big>BOER WAR LYRICS.</big></big></p> + +<h2><a name="ON_THE_TRAIL_OF_THE_LION" id="ON_THE_TRAIL_OF_THE_LION"></a>ON THE TRAIL OF THE LION.<br /><br /> +(History in Verse.)<br /><br /> +<small>INTRODUCTION.</small></h2> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Somewhere to the Moonward, or Sunward, so to speak;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A span or two to Eastward, then Southward by a streak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was heard to blare of tomtom a shameless epic wail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At fancy of some Lion who had whisked his blooming tail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plumb thro’ a nest of hornets, nor never dreamt the hive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had such a trick to mind him how were that tail alive.<a name="page_004" id="page_004"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it seems the skies were blathering while every wind-god swore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Pities would have curdled to hear the Beastie roar.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All offered salve and comfort, said never done was Wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But some requiting Themis should venge it to her song;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should smite the pesting dwarfies and heal the giant’s bruise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See paw and toothie peak not for lack of worthy use.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, O, the strain fell whopping to thunder—drip of sooth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lamb-like lyric slopping its pace with bleary ruth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, in sober last, an epic, outworking thro’ the fact,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through blaze of hostile numbers, its own and bitter act.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it shook us to the Westward—a touch of kin and near—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We banged our shoppy hatches: we had a right to hear.<a name="page_005" id="page_005"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div class="poetry">ARGUMENT.</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And this—yes, this, was the song of the Sorrowful True,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which Father Wicked, the Old, for his child, the New,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He, and that cherub of rowdy fist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who’ll blithely shake it where erst he kissed—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That covered Holy, the unctuous Wrong—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his blushing bouncer, St. Meek, the Strong;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set jointly down (while in crafty doubt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wilful Muse turned it inside out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bared hide and heart of the stalking lore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its bluff and cant to their dismal core—)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set down, I say, to mock-halcyon cheers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As, with knife at throat of the suckling years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They bled the weans, lest with peaceful bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, for other virtues in hiding there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gods, who winnow all mortal stock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should nurse the goats while they weed the flock—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let for lack of pasture the true herd pine:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all for what? For a humping quibble on Mine and Thine!<a name="page_006" id="page_006"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, lest Rue, the babbler, with saucy dare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should sit in judgment twixt Foul and Fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should slaver worse, if she came of age,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With inglorious snivel wise Clio’s page:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest all of this, with what sousing tact<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They niced her the diverse of whim and fact;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How glowed their zeal as they raked the Rue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Broke font and tablet and put her through<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such drench of penance and convert-course,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such Christian baptism from Truth, the Source:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sure text nor ritual made never doubt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor seasoned clerks, as with wary snout,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each subtle wealsman stood sly at bay:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For leet or laurel—let wise Time say.<br /></span> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">* * * * * * *</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Well—this was the Song of the Sorrowful True:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A rip of a Muse—but it gives her view.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Curt and clear tho’, did the touches fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such pithy halves as outspeak the Whole:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are you with me still? Can you check a flout?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then stretch a will to hear it out?<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><a name="page_007" id="page_007"></a><br /></span> +</div> +<div class="poetry">VIDELICET:<br /> +(<i>Hour before Dawn—The Muse brooding</i>.)</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, what hangs so leaden on the brow of Night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if grim Darkness ’pon herself had bred,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make a second and a direr gloom?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What wrestles so the advent of the Light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence from yon paths the white stars tread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should visioned peer its orient bloom?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What thrills, withal, do baffled heave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then urge anew against the serried Dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At such beseech, their silent suit?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What muttered rolls half-halting cleave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These omened airs that still hang stark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As big with what they dare not bruit?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">(<i>Faint Dawn</i>.)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But yet it lifts, thro’ huddling blurs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The eager Light. Lo, Day saddles the white Dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At heel his troop, close-wheeling, spurs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unto his banner world-wide thrown,<a name="page_008" id="page_008"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each waft, his way. Close Night unhoods;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No more beneath her grim gaze shrinks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But featured fair, in tribute ruds<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Each nether thing, and lifesome drinks.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">(<i>Full Dawn</i>.)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But, O, scene-painting Light, what stage is yon?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dim-figured tho’, what grim play breeds?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Troy’s second act? Where Hector stout, some Thetis’ son,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The deadly phalanx girds and leads?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What fatal Beauty bears in hand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With strumpet’s lure this sore divide?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For lo, her brow, to venal brand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Reads fierce with lust of worldly pride!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why wears true Grace so blanched a cheek?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What things o’ Night do rouse for prey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Confound with grim and loathsome reek<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The balmy breath of youngling Day?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What lists be those? What dirges wail?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why drags white Peace yon gory pall?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see great Mars in flame-knit mail,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I hear the fierce god’s buglers call.<a name="page_009" id="page_009"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And gleamy steel from scabbard flies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">War’s every hound is red at mouth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No belching throat but havoc cries,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would drench in blood the Summer’s drought.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Out, Sense! some trick is here of phrenzied Night;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">These clamors wind no human breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ghostly haunt yon winsome light<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The phantom shades of legioned Death.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And yet yon orb is surely Day’s:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Land re-speaks him, and his glass, the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All tongues at one, no witness stays,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But owns his line observantly.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nay, flung wide is now the portaled East;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Behind, before, Light’s lofty welcome burns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose cheer wide-spread for Most and Least,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Repledged, alone, his host-call earns.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But O, what mates come here to feed!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They spill the sweet and lifesome wine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They fool the sense with sightless greed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The knife their law twixt yours and mine.<a name="page_010" id="page_010"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And these, for sure, are Afric’s strands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And those have rid the hurly sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence towering fair great Albion stands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His brow writ broad with Liberty;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With her, whose cheer is general joy—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The gracious board whose never mess<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lets these to pine, so those may cloy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And glut his maw, the Hog, Excess—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But these no more are kindred shores:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here may her buckler rusting hang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, still at beat, thro’ throbbing yores,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oppression’s slave-blows dying rang.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here, all thro’ fear and nothing love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As if each patient light stood mute,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May ripping talons deal the Dove<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This branding scan—a prostitute!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy pardon, god of lofty song,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose fires feed the Piaerian Spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Truth for right to scoff at Wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In thy fair flame a gall-nut fling!<a name="page_011" id="page_011"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes, yon, for sure, are Afric’s strands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But where is the banneret of the Free?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What fouling touch of harpy hands<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has smirched his shield and panoply?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What spouse is this, my valiant Son?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What gross embrace for Freedom’s kiss:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These are the sheets of Abbadon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bastard clasp high Furies hiss!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, John, was not thy bed as goodly broad<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As Phœbus spans twixt East and West?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His, not the haunts thy fortune trode,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Right burly tho’, an honored guest?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But thou must grudge the meaner cot—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The plainer house thy Brother built—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This text deem, foolish, out of shot:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">“That Have, for greed, shall sure be spilt?”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Would have ’gainst Worse this wisdom bear:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">“Who dons the Might, but leaves her crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall stand her dupe; nay, all his wear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall never hide the thievish clown.<a name="page_012" id="page_012"></a>”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, John, I knew thy stomach hale and round,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With mortal sense for needful prog;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But this?—here any scab had led the hound,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had smelt foul fare the noseless hog!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh yes; thy friends did this—those nothing-loaths:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their bosom’s rank with self-sick stuff—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Devil’s shufflers when he goads<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And packs with Nice the Ne’er Enough—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Devil, Self, and all his Swill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who knows how deep sits sordid lust;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How near all power lies to will,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our wills to the damned Unjust.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, yes—thy friends—each wily Dick,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or under-helmsman to that crew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who at no faith-breach blush to stick,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So but their grist come safely through;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who, with the rough youth, Glory, ape apace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Quite out of mind his Elder’s lease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for a brief from fame-fee’d days,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would wash his hands in bleeding peace.<a name="page_013" id="page_013"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And he—no neuter he—he whoops so hard,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The brazen, roystering, gingo-sheet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who serves his vomit tricked with nard,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thro’ flattering brag, the bloodfiend’s heat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who weeps to think the Lion dupe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To tearing wolves in shepherd’s cowls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then to his sore heart lays this stupe—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That there were innings to the howls—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And all for Empire: scape-goat-thing!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Look down, proud pile, at thine own feet!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do not, thro’ knell, the ages sing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How tainted base, the top-strong seat<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shall, tumbling, empty all their sham,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And blaze this line on Story’s page—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Fill thro’ Foul may never dam,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or check the course her Vengers wage.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How Rule unbuilt each day anew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With tempered glow each brutish fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall lack of pith to fame the True,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unlaureled stand before the Sire.<a name="page_014" id="page_014"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nay, to unbred ages hand the bill<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For bounden due and bitter scan;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The compt and trust he shrank to fill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To bate the sum of answering Man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, John, thy file of friends runs fast and queer!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be sick awhile with honest doubt!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Best heart still doffs to wholesome Fear:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Revise thy list—leave spongers out!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh yes, I know what thou would’st say:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">“Thou bits’t a stiff and rough-back mare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unblest, unbroke to right obey,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lest as she catch the trumpet’s flare.”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But there again thy false friends spoke—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Each fisty Brave that wearies Time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who ’ld headlong rush the brazen yoke,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than share a pace, so all may climb.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">More apt to speed with reckless spur<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy nicer o’er thy nobler star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than bring to eye what tho’ it blur,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet, warning, sheens the misty Far.<a name="page_015" id="page_015"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, yes, I know, as world-walks shift,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There is sore push for forward seats:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We quake at taunts from ride-hard Thrift,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then late her pace with churlish heats—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And wear this mask before our hearts,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This paltry shift of truckling breed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That veering Trade or waning marts—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All drift that swerves with human need—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">May tide with looks the franker Light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With crafty lead, its artless youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Just, a bawd to brazen Right,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">New bastards bear the groaning Truth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Suppose we take a backward look,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Past years as yet scarce out o’ moulds:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You, from your near-illumined Book,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I—whence no home-trick holds.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In damning truth, a proper pry,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since at its head War whets his sword,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Justice puts her ægis by,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And eats his brag and bully’s word—<a name="page_016" id="page_016"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A look as far as when befell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What glamored fierce the bridging sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each flary crest at push to tell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How the white stones shone in Kimberley—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And dimmed your faith and glossed the pledge,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And juggled Right with wheedling Wrong;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gave Cant new stand—this privilege:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To rest all cause on proof of Strong.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Your pious grab, the half-heart rue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hush you paid to still a twinge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All snugged within this lofty view—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">“He steers the moke who holds the cinch.”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But in your big Book that’s fable now,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Might sleep, kept not this line awake—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“That meddling pasts, ne’er done, somehow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Assess for quits all present stake.”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Since just as deft his story wove<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The yellow Devil in the Rand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Dame Empire, O, so high suave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Took bleary Mammon by the hand—<a name="page_017" id="page_017"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And there was nudge and jobbing kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And scan o’ map and leer of eye:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“How came our wits so wide of this—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It lay so near and tempting by?”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While in at gate flowed pick and raff,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For catch is life to brotherhood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each tribesman bent, thro’ clean or draff,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To swing his carp from out the mud.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And every hoist and tackle told,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As sure it ought, where sleek and trim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At scoop and dive for wriggling gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The big Mouths join and steer the Swim.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While coy, thro’ fill of common eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As fadged with tooth of safer breed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smug Power yet found crumbs to fry,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While sampling Chefs gave dainty heed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And snacks went ’round for taste and tout:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Home-cook swore the stuff was fine:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“Why should such plums be ladled out<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To grunting clod and boorish swine?<a name="page_018" id="page_018"></a>”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Not swell our own and proved Menu?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This crowd at board keeps coming still:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suppose we shift, <i>à son insu</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To nab his joint, and eke the bill?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Or what’s the same—we fix his stew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Put such a sauce in broth and dish—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such plausive snap and tang o’ True—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That none shall dream we came to fish;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“But love of man was all we meant;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till, less in doubt each lode-star gaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At Heaven’s clear, tho’ mute intent,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By as we head, to hold her pace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“And this fellow, certes, has sore behoof<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To take a word from wiser mouths,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who has stretched his crib and smoky roof<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whence North-from, down, the zone-line souths;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Almost a split—a crying jag;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A scare at top, a threat, below;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An ugly tuck that scrimps the bag<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We meant to fill as harvests grow.<a name="page_019" id="page_019"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“In our big sail a plaguy reef,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were it not that craft o’ his pert make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With too much head have come to grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Strew bottom up our rushing wake.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Against the owl what counts the mouse?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But no. That strains a bit the proper zest:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He shall have due of grounds and house,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We’ll dish for him as for the rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“’Twill daze him, sure, our big provide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till, on a breath, he vent his stare:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">‘Such doors as these had best be tried,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere back to thatch and homely fare.’<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“And say he sulks, we’ll coax him in:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What does he care who carves the meat?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So fill of fodder strew the bin,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who rules the loft, or heads the treat?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“He will never quibble on a word,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Give simple ‘rob’ a double sense;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But loyal strain shall well accord<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With leave of thrift and competence.<a name="page_020" id="page_020"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“And ’tis trite as dirt, where’er we go,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sleek slut, Trade, trots close at heel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">’Gainst whose hard sense how fares the saw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The musty fib—‘Thou shalt not steal!’<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Yes—we’ll be his staff and hedge him fine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till lust of Have like gospel read,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his backbone in the general spine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Does merge its hump and dogged breed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“The idiot pluck with which he strove<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To shield his hearth with freehold fence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rather wear the homely wove<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than rig to suit our lofty sense.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“His rooted stand and settled haze<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The foot he plants ’gainst sudden New,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose golden tilth and reap of grace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Holds furrowed snug the only True.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“His crafty shield; those mealy snares<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For simple lambs. His wolfish doubt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, stung and wrung with sore his cares,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They flocked to help friend Hodges out—<a name="page_021" id="page_021"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“And forced from faith his better word,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And warped his truth with keen despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the large rights for which he chored<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Should never greet a lineal heir.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“But all his throb and bitter sweat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His blood paid down for desert lands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should snap its lease, be lightly set<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A hawker’s trust in stranger hands—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“And how for this he bled and drove,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cribbed-in this band of saintly Peace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Played wary host to all their trove,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Made yare go ’round the golden fleece—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“And worst—those sons of loot, his bossy crew!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who, fearing thieves, would chance no charm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But gag the spoiler ’fore he grew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To oust their rights with legal arm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“All this: shocks! ’Twere worth a bloody nose:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To size him up, then pare him down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till, as to cure the treatment grows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We snug him hale within the Crown.<a name="page_022" id="page_022"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“A gem whose shine and proper place<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And dapper fit to lofty plan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He’ll soon see clear thro’ his amaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With contrite heart—the leal man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“And Square-toes’ gait at last be set;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With social wash to status brought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His lowly breed and rustic sweat:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O, God of Thrift! What happy thought!”<br /></span> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">* * * * * * * *</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When hard upon this longish muse,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which, if it fail of absolute mold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is yet what, at a close peruse,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A muddled act does broadly hold—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When pat, to suit Godfather’s cue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That pious child, the hungry League<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was christened snug and gospeled through,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Anoint with salve of high intrigue;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nay, preached and bore the brainless gang,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who gripped at throat the better hope<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Right, with due, past caution rang<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How every neck was worth a rope.<a name="page_023" id="page_023"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And ’woke this cry with warning rouse—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">“Since Neighbor Near seem Neighbor Pike,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">’Twere time small fry made fast the house,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Girt fence and gate with double spike.”<br /></span> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">* * * * * * * *</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Since when, what other brood of kindred grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which, true to stock, the devil yeans,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joined trick and tooth and darksome ways<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To work the bolts by subtler means!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While last—O, John, will ne’er thy friends be wise?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What balm, tho’ gross with clumsy tape,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What quacks’ set-up in surgeon’s guise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Came foisting, fuddling from the Cape!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What hangman’s cure and mad appeal,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What blind invoke past doubt of suit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What sowings thrust with iron heel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose yet no half has bore its fruit!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, yes, thro’ stress and truce, and right along,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It still repeats the old-time game,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How brother Weak met brother Strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who saw, and took, and felt no shame.<a name="page_024" id="page_024"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whom so self-dread, that final awe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could graft on soul this chastening sense—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That endless widening circles Law,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rules nations’ hopes as single mens’.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But strangled fierce his safer light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let smiling Nears hide frowning Fars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose then approach twice ruthless write,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To hastening pace, fulfilling Stars.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who pinned on back of brazen years<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This shrift o’ theirs to coming times:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“He minded not the silent leers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The steady sooth the Sybil rhymes.”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whose burdened wreath may never bear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">’Mong graven gems this baser stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, from low seat tho’ crude it flare,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Twice sorry dims the blazoned throne—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While doubly thence its legend reads:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">“I tithe no blench to higher Wills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But hold it cardinal ’mong creeds<br /></span> +<span class="i2">’Tis love of self that all fulfills.<a name="page_025" id="page_025"></a>”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Since, certes, good John, the wide Fates kiss:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their sum-up Clerks need not be told<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By one grim page to set this quizz—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">“So little wise and yet so old.”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So heady still, spite curb of years,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Such toper there where hard heads brew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against some Guest that sobering nears,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From draff o’ old the cleaner New.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From cross of Days some bear-up Creed—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To sum of Why the sweet Reply,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than cyphered Fate of clearer breed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And purge to text she teacheth by—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The “yea” to “nay” of self-sick man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What crowns his raw and groan-fed Stars;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With olived light the vulture’s span<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That gores as yet all warding bars;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who, tho’ still she strew her trophied trail<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O’er sanguine sore, but fading seas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Marks lift, and girt with nobler mail,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As sturdy rise, white-bucklered Peace.<br /></span> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">* * * * * * * *</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But I have had my little say:—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Muse is such a taunting lass;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She grips your hand, and will or nay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">’Tis bear her tongue ere brooked to pass—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In sooth, she says she’s really done:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O’erhead a prim and foolish Moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In trappings borrowed from the Sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flaunts gay her frock and silver shoon.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">E’en so will human Wit fling wide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its took-on crest and glittering gear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What are but glancings as they glide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From off the Truth’s all-spanning sphere.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So will the Muse stand hard at gaze<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath this mystic, myriad Arch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hear faint thro’ rush of whirling days<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Time’s silent roundsmen file and march—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Their never ending, ordered beat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Those footsteps yare that warning fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And charge each hand to bide the meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Account his watch, or void the Roll.<a name="page_027" id="page_027"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nay, nothing daunted, pause to catch<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Perhaps their song, perhaps the jars;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through sting and throb, at strain to match<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their measures to some boundless Star’s.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But yet at Wrong she cannot bide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Must have her jog at slug-slow Time:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How far it rouse his hard-bound hide—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah! there’s the test of quickening rhyme!<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p><a name="page_028" id="page_028"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="THE_GIBBETSONG" id="THE_GIBBETSONG"></a>THE GIBBET-SONG.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The onus of the South African War seems, in the main, to +have rested on three pairs of shoulders—those of Rhodes (who has now +excused himself), Chamberlain and Milner. +</p><p> +The Gallows is a composite something—a sort of trio-also—known to +assume burdens, likewise, to-wit: the Beam, the Trap, and the Rope.</p></div> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I dozed—had dipped in gray of dreams—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While at gate of mind no sentry sat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But such blithe watch and ward whereat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Fancy laughs, more tricksy sports her airy gleams—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had dipped—unrobed, immersed, for all she fought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the bath, each leaden limb of weary Thought.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Such truce!—while shoal of dreams slid restful by;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When, hark! Came phantomed not upon the misty air,<a name="page_029" id="page_029"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">At hum and buzz, some quaint palavering there—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some spell—which, ere the tranced ear could sort and try,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Took vision, too, put up, made free,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Reverie’s haunts and workings be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The eeriest shapes—tho’ of yon fierce breed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That cows sweet Song, harsh-tunes her chime,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thick-mists the heights she fain would climb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, e’en so, their sad defence and privilege plead:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rude differences, of mark and poise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That, ’gainst all manners, prompt her voice:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The weirdest set,—tho’ jovial, too, if looks describe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hardy Mirth—yon gamy stuff that seeks no bush,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which Muse will start when, at a push,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She sports the string of hoot and jibe;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tho’ God help! as many a licensed rascal knows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A proper chord, for all its ring of lashing prose.<a name="page_030" id="page_030"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But who were they? By way of count, the eye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had made them three—some treble pink, or clover there—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tho’, sooth to say, I never saw the threefoil wear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The weird wild grace they conjured by.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But then, what can’t Illusion shadow forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That shames the needle, souths the north?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The First—in faith, all had a cunning trick<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of linking arms, a hang-together sort of look,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which how to severalize and separate book<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comes hard, save unto whom, among Life’s pick<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of strange acquaintance, she makes free<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall have close dealings with these Corporate Three.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This First—a lanky chap he was, of way-up size,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Clean-timbered, straight as pine-grain flows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or frank heart feels, yet now, for, certes, some heinous cause,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His way was curt, his speech came grim—some hanged surmise<a name="page_031" id="page_031"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">His gaunt frame feels, which, as it shouldering brings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To view his level top, spoke curious things<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While the Second, tho’ less staunch of thew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Say, to the others beam as boards of clap,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Showed yet his ilk—a jaw alive as any trap;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tho’ one, who backed his sense with feeling, too;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the way he would warm up, take on, and lead,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When as some new light broke, was sight indeed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And last, that sprawling Third—so meek, so mincing slim,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You’ld never ha’ dreamt how’s his gag was bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the end, to clinch a subject, coil it round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he let out that twisting trick of him;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which, till erring Man and Time debate no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall still leave points for Master Rope to score.<a name="page_032" id="page_032"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Well—here was Company, if all was square?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A doubt stood out, heard Heart say, “Brother Brain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Good Sir, have you been chumming with the Wine again?”<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, “No,” flung back the Head, “I wasn’t there<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This many a day; since when my kindling deities are<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But a cup of Oolong and a mild cigar.”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet, drat the thing! ’Twould take no nay;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The stuff came fierce. Some blaze seemed on,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, tho’ with no clear ground to go upon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thought I said, “Let come what may,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I’ll hear it out,” tho’ ’ts trick for strange now topped the score,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For by Grab and Stab! they spoke of War.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yon feud that stains South Afric’s land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The foul use to which a giant’s sword<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had long been put, ’gainst some young ward<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of freedom’s there. How the gallant tho’ forlorn band,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Compeers of Fame, made ring her page<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With wonder of the strife they singly wage.<a name="page_033" id="page_033"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nay, what took me most,—but then,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What good to ponder how these Councillors three<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Came to speak so tactic-deep, so judgingly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">’Bout how that bully’s brawl might not have been,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had they, on strength of prospect, in their wholesome way,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From forth the tingling cheek of modern Day,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With timely hand, rebuking, wiped this burning shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Made knavery uncloak, ere treason flew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her couriers flaunting of their liveried True,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with craft of covert mired a goodly name;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No good to ponder this, now the vile flood has broke,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet fact, or no—it was the way these worthies spoke.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And queer’st of all,—by some strange spell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They becked me on, and, edging ’round,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As in some magic circle held me bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, “now,” cried they, “it fits us tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">’Less thou be one of those, too apt by far,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who, shuffling, try to shape their star,<a name="page_034" id="page_034"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">By tale, lined smug with pleasing sooth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, like world-wise husbands, till and farm<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No lease that tinge with thought of harm—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We doubt you sore—than sweat at back of rugged Truth;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who expound all fact by textman Strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Glibbed ne’er so smooth with fine-spun Wrong.”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Yes, ’swounds! said they, it fits us tell,’—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When, as with sense of proper cue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Beam—the fellow of the sturdy thew—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spoke singly out: like tongue of rousing bell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That on still deeps of vasty midnight falls,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To doom of raging flood, or fire calls,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Reverberate rang his ghostly strain:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">“Had I been there, on Afric’s shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where homes mid toil the hardy Boer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, there where erst was laid the train<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And cunning fuse, whose rowdy charge<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Set War’s deep-mouthed hounds at large—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Been there—good now and well-a-day!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Proud Cecil’s hunger for more Earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To swell a tottering empire in the girth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No thought for ’ts feet, those props of clay,<a name="page_035" id="page_035"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Should for its fill, or nearways bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have had a six foot some of Christian ground.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or, grant, this stories not, by far,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Quite twists, the way his craving came;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That a wider mark went roves with Fame:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E’en so—the fatuous head he gave his star<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Balked still true rise, yon warier climb,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which must match foot with patient Time.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But, take in both; let honor owe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some voice to each; yet some base touch no merit downs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sinks born kings to range with clowns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wreaked here its curse thro’ human law,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, deriving whence no issue sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would have had yon stern verdict keep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Since, so had no lure that Mammon piles<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blazed wide to men, “I know ye all;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lo, here my truck, lo, there your soul!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, what devil doubts, but damned files<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For lasting count, scores twice this creed:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">“Fair ends must bear what foul means breed.<a name="page_036" id="page_036"></a>”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So had ne’er cried out ’gainst fearsome spilth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No brave mens’ blood, no blasted home<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Made sick the times, sensed fierce the stars, past where they dome<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shrilled wildly forth “this is the husbandry whose tilth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When gathered full its ghastly sheaf,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall blight with shame each laureled leaf,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“That England wears, where ranker grow,”—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Well—this topped, I thought, all patient sense,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And it seemed I said “Now pray you whence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This dire bode? What glass be yours that it should show<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What veils all view,”—here, while my lip still quivering hung,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their wizard spell had tied my tongue;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As from out my Dream there rose once more,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This time that other’s grim, now boding voice<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I thought so sleek, yet full of poise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, tho’ still you traced the snap it bore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">’T had now an eager, vast, nay, solemn sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As if chiming with the sky-paths ’round.<a name="page_037" id="page_037"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Withal, it was mine ancient friend’s, the Trap,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As lo, he dire spoke, “and had I been there,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where southward down the Capelands bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had I not quenched with my good cap,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O’er-topped his crest, that Milner man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose swell of head to the Imperial plan<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Such havoc worked, that toiling Day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor patient Night, tho’ joining chore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Retrieves the base that rose before;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But as sad Fates their grim plots lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor scorn no aid from scheming Breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall, waning, sink t’ward leveling Death.”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At this—as from its curb had once more broke<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Will—my safer self—tho’ cowed and pent<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within their witching grip, I roused and bent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tongue to hot retort, and spoke:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">“Who’re you, that spurs so fierce the instant Right,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who’ld wage conclusions with the patient Light?<a name="page_038" id="page_038"></a>”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then more calm—for within his look<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There sate a gleam, that still, clear gaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By which dim Destiny all opposite weighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, her least owing brings to book—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I faltered forth: “What? him they’ve frilled a lord?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You’ld from your great good heart have spared a cord?”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Knit closer up this raveled night?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or bee’st thou then?”—Here fell again, past pen to tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On tongue and will that gruesome spell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tho’ heart and brain seemed steeped in light;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As in voice, whose vast no star-deep girds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">’Rose grim, I thought, that eerie Thirds;’<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now halting, meek, no more. O, futile trope!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To suit to trick of verbal range<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What boundless garbs past millioned change,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet here, in humble guise of him, the Rope,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Spoke valiant out, tho’ slept each sense-watch there,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unvoicing very thunder by compare:<a name="page_039" id="page_039"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“And had I been where across the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Confederate, girt, with bulwark tides,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fair Albion, on proud leave, divides,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Ocean’s state, his empery;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On his white bastion fearless stands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While lift with light the beaconed hands;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But out of mark, unstatured, sinks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All tribute once, now scarce a heed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some trick, at best, sad memories breed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the large well, whence Honor drinks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He fierce pollutes, the loath cup drains,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Inglorious pledged to siren gains;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the large glow, which constant shone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now winnows Night no never more,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blasphemes its trust, the spacious charge it missioned bore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all his anchored pride be overthrown,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While up from heaving seas comes brooding cast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To moan of threnody, his vanished past.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! had I been there, ere hawks could trail,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could, hounding, snatch at brooding Peace;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere her wild brother’s bugle shook the seas:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had I not ta’en a reef in Joseph’s sail—<a name="page_040" id="page_040"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Crest and Swell, which false at source,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pluck whelm and blast to path their course;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ere broke the storm, yon blood-red tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Man’s will, ’gainst very Fate is bound<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To probe and check, but which he, callous, failed to sound:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had I not made his tacks go wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Charmed lasting ’round with my good noose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The brazen throat that poohed the truce,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet from her deep lip that answereth not,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Save where with pupil’s grace you tend her school,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sought shuffling plea, acclaimed for Rule,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yon vaunted policy, whose flattering rot<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Outwits itself, aborts all plan<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thro’ fierce array of brawling man;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whose passing equity, the worldly Sure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Might never yet a neutral stand, did witness bear—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yon hosting skies no plainer there—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than that Nations’ lives may not endure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But shall buoy up dark things of Night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That, at issue, watch the orient Light;<a name="page_041" id="page_041"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be as brief posts twixt here and hence,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Time, the user-of-them-for his haste,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their barred entail what feeds his waste,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slaves his command, confounds all whence;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When Aggression evermore fierce yokeman go,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cries ’s rage no halt,—with Nature’s grim and blood-red law.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A-well,—so set, to some such words,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So substanced to their dour pith,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tho’ the pen, at push for its wherewith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May, chance, interpreting the rousing chords,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, as becomes an instrument of Breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be scanting what their phrenzy saith,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet thus, from past all conscious source,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mark, manner, privilege of Thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Trite limit of the time-bound brought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rang his appeal, whose fierce discourse,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lest Truth, sore tossed, succumb despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Exhort no more, inspiring tongued the womby air.<a name="page_042" id="page_042"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whereon, as if to merge each single act,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fuse straying motive, pledge them one,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have, whence ’mid blaze of myriad sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Theme enacts, or, where trite performs the meanest fact,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some prompting Light declare, “this scene spake true,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Broad-based on Just to climax grew.”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nay, as to have once more this Sponsor say:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">“Tho’ wrath with ruth perplex my theme,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thro’ pall of cloud my pathways gleam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And truckling augurs bode them nay;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet came ne’er so lost my omened sooth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But some light broke dim with warning truth.”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Even so, as some such charge they bore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now blent, as they were one, those Voices three:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their mingled strains, consonantly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Took jointly up this general score,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose burden—scale and pace to utmost star—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Did, rounding, swell their awful bar:<a name="page_043" id="page_043"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Had we had leave, as we have will,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Laid on the rod, nor spared the hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But that dim Fates did baffling stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Called out: “Leave off, forbear, till we fulfill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While etern Purpose, evermore at large,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Abeyant files your bitter charge!”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Might we have shook us in our strength,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hadn’t we laid low, by his ruffian heel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This ogred Wrong—his mealy trick his bloat appeal—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cramped hell to hold his felon’s length?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her warders been, saved England’s shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere Execration he her other name?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Ere as fiends, below, join in the flout,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Match their sad spirits, hopelessly compare<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who takes the crown for vileness there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hang shameful heads, as Infamy points out,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This imp, cross of Greed and lewd Complot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His human sires monstrously begot,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whose unclean hand foul-featured Fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Young, timid traits of Peace that grew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And as from some struggling dawn, glad-messaged, flew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With this—that God to man, howso He came,<a name="page_044" id="page_044"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mote ne’er fulfill His sacred call,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere wisdomed lift, while sink each thrall,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That passioned slaves, lets taskman Time<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Exact to a jot what brags his lease,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Breath blind-pays for his appease:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere lift, willed forth this dauntless rhyme—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">“Spite bonds that cling, nor seem to bate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some Free may war gainst him and Fate.”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wage hard from lips of thirsting Truth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To dash this rank-envenomed Cup,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Adulterous Policy holdeth up,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pledged cunning deep with serpent sooth—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">“That the lie which in the Weak be breach of trust,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the Strong, may hollow drape and play the Just.”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Usurp and steal in that fair shape,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For fellowship with him the roysterer, Sword,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shut out her cheer, the gentle Word,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Profane her wreath, its laurel ape;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Steel twice the heart, glass dark this law:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">“There be no Truth: one bitter blank the Heavens go.<a name="page_045" id="page_045"></a>”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At this—much like some sudden storm, that for ’s ease,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At his mad pleasure, whelmed the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose purpose carried, all his wild mood dies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His course accounted, and his wake the peace:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So happy sank—fast curtained now, each ghost-film laid—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From sight and sound, that threefold Shade.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And thus my Dream, past link or bound<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of yon close web which nets all Thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To final plat its loomwork wrought;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its crowning braid—the instant tint, the fervent ground—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What deep worked in some veiled hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bade both woof and pattern stand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And, safe-keep it so, thou justest God!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Deny it not its lease of wear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Spite what coarse thread of Earth it bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All warp that fames the needy sod!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But, suffered, let its touch unfold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some seed of Truth’s anumb with cold.<a name="page_046" id="page_046"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Th’ impeach, the taunt—account them not,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But as they still prevail with tardy man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, differing, derogate Thy vast of plan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would bettering eke its bountied. What—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All strange which holds, past Thought, that waits,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The shrouded edicts of unmeasured Fates!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Profess it Thine its core o’ grace—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What strove to bare the covered fault,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The tort, whose gross, to top assault,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would brazen mask its borrowed face,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Derive intent, refer its course<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To Thine clear will and prompting source.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At which thought, again, alas, will fall<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That bitter cry; at rude division pierce the ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As Sight thickens, to eclipse of Fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My ghostly Speakers cast their pall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Break bounds twixt this and some yet Hence,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Perturb, once more, the sequences of Sense;<a name="page_047" id="page_047"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">While eerie lifts, at fresh loom there—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When unnatural trespass stalks the mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Invokes the equity it fails to find—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those juried Three; as the empaneled air<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Repeats, that wanton power hallows Wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Those aweful measures of the Gallows’ Song.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p><a name="page_048" id="page_048"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="THE_SCAR" id="THE_SCAR"></a>THE SCAR.</h2> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Heart heavy, her mantle torn, and with bleeding feet;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As from out some Dream b’yond wide-visioned Night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unverged, unfollowed where her infinites meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On brow, withal, an unextinguishable Light,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Came crownless Glory, seeking of the haunts of man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To find him from her faith same swerver still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, tho’ suffered factor in this fabled Plan,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its wonder jars with shock of passion and the worldly will.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From out those self-same Deeps, against whose Sight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yon white suns veil them, that o’ Times they are,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came also he, the Greed—his lust of Have and love of Might,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To fame his flush, tho’ shrouded, nay, how brazen, Star.<a name="page_049" id="page_049"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Full-orbed, if ever, thro’ yet feud of Days,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose strides would bridge it, but contrive no span,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, beneath, tides on forever, yea, in shrewder maze<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Time’s scruteless burden, since his own began;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whose Strange withal to lighten, ’less all hope were dumb,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, ere the Riddle wearied that no answer grew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What still some sad twinge told him must abide its sum,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet, on some wild prospect that chance Glory knew,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In this crude fashion sought to draw the Seraph out:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">“Why dost thou moan? Will Man ne’er know thee as thou really art?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mark how I am followed, how his bawdy rout,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His brutish hordes, have throve and fatted at my feeling heart!<a name="page_050" id="page_050"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“How I have led him from ’way down the Scale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While something better,—yes, I’ve dreamt ’twas you,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Devised those touches, made his red hand quail,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Reproved the bully when most fierce he slew.”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Yet, look you, even when his best is told,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some bias granted where awards divide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the glass now—is he other than the beast of old,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have your pricks struck deeper than his spotty hide?”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Is your varnish more than the rogue’s, whose saint<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For a fast or vigil wipes him, then gross-daubs him new?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! that I chance fouled him, helped flush the paint?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tut, tut, that still outfathoms, yea, or me, or you.<a name="page_051" id="page_051"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come, be wise! Subscribe me proper! Sleek my Spoiler’s hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So its foul grip hallow, thought a blight before,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Avouch it mine that grace that haunts me while the Heavens stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since first my gray dawn dimmed it ’mong white lights of yore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why should’st thou sorrow? Why those bleeding feet?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy humble garment? Yon rapt, far-off gaze?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The voice that falters thro’ its dim entreat?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy brow, sore pondering of this thankless maze,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy brow, where lo!—ah, ’tis the riddle which I blind pursue—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yon fond star frets it and divides thy gloom:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hark! Wilt thou not lend it me? In guise of True,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let its rose be grafted on my baser bloom?<a name="page_052" id="page_052"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Since, how then still goodlier might my outward show;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My pose, my policy, each brood of shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which my wily statists at their game of draw—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My foxy henchmen—give a smoother name;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How still more potent were my toils than now,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When “Nay” spoke gently Glory, “that out-goes my leave:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How might I stand me where the high Fates bow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Before the Will, that crowns no issue not thine own achieve.”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“What! Thou wilt not?” Came the fierce respond,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As on deep Night there rose a mocking and a damned wail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“Mark how I justify my bitter bond,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How where fools refuse me there I grim assail!<a name="page_053" id="page_053"></a>”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When, forth, on its fell errand, went a grisly hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the dread skies shook them and the winds spoke hoarse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To grasp the star no wheedling parley, nor no harsh command,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May impious sever from its bounden course.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nay, for one foul moment gripped it, made the Jewel press<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Those hairy temples where the gross thoughts strive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To vie the light no false faith borrows, so its sheen may bless<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And cloak the trickster while his jugglings thrive;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But like a shadow shall its wonder chill:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So even here: it left more pinched the low brow there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, as if sorry even for unrighteous will,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Made still, for ruth, the base ridge wear,<a name="page_054" id="page_054"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">At upward blazon ’tward yon veiled Deeps,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the lights ensky them past the zenith star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A blot—a bruise, whose fiery throb no opiate sleeps,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A branding, brazen, yet a piteous scar;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Which, in his better hour, he, the ogre, Greed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Applying to its sorry wound the comfort of the salve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which ’gainst Time’s woe, for even him, the high Hopes breed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Allays that brutal sting—his love of Rule and lust of Have.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But out, alas! When sad companion of the fated Night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whence, struggling tho’ her bitter spur, his dark will came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He aims to conjure with yon gentler Light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To screen his knavish Cant, filch Glory’s name;<a name="page_055" id="page_055"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">When cloaked in practise, till the Heavens doubt,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">False hopes estrange him with his franker star;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How vengeful then, how giant grim, stands fiery out<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yon thievish, brazen, branding Scar!<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p><a name="page_056" id="page_056"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="TO_ENGLAND" id="TO_ENGLAND"></a>TO ENGLAND: A FORECAST.<br /><br /> +(With a side-light on Kipling’s verse “The Islanders.”)</h2> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">“Those flanneled fools at the wicket,<br /></span> +<span class="i5"> Those muddied Oafs at the goal.”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh yes, make no doubt,—you shall need them;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If not now, at some near-upon time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">P’rhaps fast as your mothers dare breed them,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Those fools of his militant rhyme.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For, tho’ it be not a day that covers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What stern Reckoners, withal, must try,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, ere Retribution that hovers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall swoop down on the Greed and the lie;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet, sure as red War do thin them,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your brave ranks dished cold on his tray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall your wits study hard how to win them—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Adding craft to his ravenous play—<a name="page_057" id="page_057"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Those flanneled fools where they dally,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With yet good trick o’ the human left,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who trace, thro’ the bounce and the rally,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The gross hand of the clumsiest theft;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If still at his feet, the sad demon of Glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose yet Star screens the Nemesis there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You trail foul the white mantle which Story,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Long proud, deemed you worthy to wear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Have him drink, each Oaf, till he drains it,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sad rue of your rank abuse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till he purge, where your grim lip stains it,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The white, passioned font of the Truce.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And you spill ’gainst some Day that darkens,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sweet blood which more blood must cleanse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To appease her, who evermore hearkens,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With an ear ’bove all mortal mens’—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whose hand, tho’ thy now scarce regards it,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nay, with brute challenge her great bond bails,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">’Gainst some audit, how so she retards it,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Holds still those immutable scales,<a name="page_058" id="page_058"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose tallies, past mortal doubting,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall yet flame their etern script,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set forth b’yond what small gods flouting,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their word in your heart’s-blood dipp’d.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For out of the sad soil reeking,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unstilled while the blood-rain falls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even there, goes a great Wrong seeking,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From Camp and from pesthouse calls.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Seeking—wondering, though waiting,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why so patient the ordering Stars;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All-wisdomed Wills why so lating<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Just which no time-let bars.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Seeking—nay, all but finds it,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the path you must now pursue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The scourge, where some grim Fate winds it<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With her law of the outraged True;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the course now blind-blazed before you,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where, still warning her augurs stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Invoking the love she bore you,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For stay of your ruthless hand.<a name="page_059" id="page_059"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh yes, you shall ill do without them,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Those fools his rash fancy drew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But then, shall your conscience not doubt them,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall they not lack faith in <i>you</i>?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shall then not the dead Days taunt you,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Break their graves, and, with wild surmise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fierce-ghosting the Coming haunt you,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ensanguine the placid skies?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, yes; Come Heaven or Hell, you shall need them,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Unjust has so monst’red the score,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her purgers-in-fee, ere you breed them,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till Shame be your harlot no more!<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p><a name="page_060" id="page_060"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="WAR" id="WAR"></a>WAR.</h2> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By his blood-red furrow, as of yore—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fierce acre he tends, since, her theme in chief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Story stained with him her leaf,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, since when, come not-yet of age,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She but babbled her page—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chance, long bygones before—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heeled and flush, in his bruiser’s trim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Howe’er wistful at core,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Walketh the War.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never a laugh dares sport with him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only anon the luridest smile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rallies his gloom awhile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere it hang as before.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By the reek of his furrow—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those dank pastures, whose soil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moistened by ages, augur his toil;<a name="page_061" id="page_061"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which his scourge-hands have fed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose come-up and store<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have quickened and bred<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On his innings of yore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the blood-sweat and broil—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still walketh the War;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Broad-cast flings his dripping grain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest, unpurged of tare and weed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God’s dear harvest come in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the Devil nurse his breed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lest, Earth’s Mighties, sick for more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lack of grist to heap their store,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sigh that Luck should be so out;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why the slut so meanly heed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sore measure of their need;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What blind Fates may be about?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While, perchance, the grim sower there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fierce and blood-strewing Mars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Uneasy his honors wear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Inglorious, the ancient scars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his weed-hands, the plain and dim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be not thought the husbands of Him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He, who gathereth the stars.<a name="page_062" id="page_062"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lest his tithe and offering, the War,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From a heart, thought inconstant and meek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Appease not The Evermore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, in their hallowed and upward seek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Less pious now than before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rue and the languishing grue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fall-away reek of the blood-laden stew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hit not His nostril, while gentler strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cravens the breed of the eager life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, unearned, unworthy, her sober ease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She yeaneth the Peace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And still, by his furrow, lusting and grim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While his seed-hand drips,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sowing and reaping, tending his chore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he waileth his hymn—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That fierce dirge evermore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blown hoarse from his lips—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Towers the War.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But who be the council and senate of him?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who be his teamsmen, where be the whips?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There in the ghost-light, taunting and strange?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There where all visions pale them and range?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There where all time-light, tho’ vaunting its star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hushes come numbing, so voiceless and far?<a name="page_063" id="page_063"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet there, even there, evermore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since first streameth a dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hardy and wild, tho’ ungrown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tolling his death-song, muffling their lore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brave lyrics of life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speeds not the strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stalks not the War?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he moody fulfills those inscrutable Wills—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At one hand, the Spirit’s, on the other, the Sod’s,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That anointed of Gods;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, that fierce purger, the Truth’s,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, the healing, the infinite Ruth’s,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Divinely at odds—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those miracled Twain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep-twinning, past name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From whose life-streaming well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose concept and womb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Floweth birth-song and knell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Issue cradle and tomb.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here and there, evermore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since first lifted a prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mortal with him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Father Hazy, old Time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Untokened and dim,<a name="page_064" id="page_064"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the brood-mists of yore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His chief breather was bore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Craving and unsated still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feedeth the War.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On one hand, the God-will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the other, the Man’s,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bounden a chooser, or liege to the chance?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who shall assign it? Each where it fall?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prove the parts from the Whole?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How may they plead—Doer, and deed?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Response, ’gainst the Call?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is there a name for the appeal and the claim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the shaping to Shaper,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Judger that scans,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While dim Fates yet fulfill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exalting ordain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thro’ the stress and the pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That high something, the Will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bid it rise to the answer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tho’ one with the Plan’s?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ay,—shall the soul not be held to the vast reply?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, shall its dower of light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Widowed of wonder, sad mate with the Night,<a name="page_065" id="page_065"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like what fierce-flaunting Sun’s,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When its pomp is done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fail him and die?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be the soul, its selfhood a dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But some phantom-fed gleam?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Past yon torches that burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unbarred may no high suit go?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But beggared, unmorrowed, never to know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unvisioned etern,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold not, with humbled, tho’ how larger eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Fountains that rise?<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p><a name="page_066" id="page_066"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CLIO" id="CLIO"></a>CLIO.</h2> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From out my tossed and wayward page,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where yet to prompt it, broad and clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God and demon struggling wage—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thoughts of hope gainst things of Fear—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Something lifts: How should I know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why or whence, save that in light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above my monitors of boding Night—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tally-hands that warning draw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With my good Augurs, joint indite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Checked, but sure, the founded law—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It gently calls in thy behoof,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rounding my unfinished verse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clinching, as from pith of proof,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What the lines but faint rehearse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, to deep tho’ far-off chords,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It voiceth low these simple words:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Trust no foul, to frame best end,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest some taint the high Stars rue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark infect all fresher True,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Subtly foil its yet portend;<a name="page_067" id="page_067"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, twice blind with brute unheed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life’s close cypher harder read:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest unto all after time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the burden of my rhyme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The unholy jar do foully blend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grudge and mar its noblest chime:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burden, with whose nameless Deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tho’ sad paths dim courses keep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet repeats, invoking still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Anthemed, the responsive will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suffered federate with the Prime.”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Have thy ways confess me just,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest the Fate, whose hand unfolds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Devious what the world-lust holds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shut out all bound twixt thee and dust:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest large things, that she did write,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tricked of faith and worthy scope—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hence, unmusicked of the Hope—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Juggling blot my tablet’s white;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, in her despair to shape the Soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She report ye foul, and tear my Scroll.<a name="page_068" id="page_068"></a>”<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<h2><a name="AVE_PAX" id="AVE_PAX"></a>AVE PAX.</h2> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From forth the hidden, brooding heart of Nature lifts a sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wordless, dim beseech, as if of tremulous Life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A heave that groaning speaks, withal: “And what am I,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all my stars, and myriad thing, and Breath arife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As with some doom that hears not, some blind call to be?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall my mute yearning ever rend the pall of Night?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This bond be lifted, and those wills be free?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My heart swell holy t’ward some only Light?”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“And shall my pains unburden, some glad voice be mine?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The feuds surcease them—the brutal onset and the bitter stress?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This chalice sweeten, flow with heavenly wine?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My brood uncurse me, who how fain would bless,<a name="page_069" id="page_069"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till, O, some angeled Pity from these bowels leap,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A sweeter wisdom of all ills make ease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And those dreams fulfil them that fond-haunt my sleep:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall ever on my sore, o’erwatched brow sit promised Peace?”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And out of stillier Deeps—unfathomed, shrouded than the tomb-hush came—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A Vision rose upon her stony, sad, beblinded eyes:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A passioned Shrine, where smiling lay, in chastening flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The white child, Truth—a seraph winging, ’gainst its mighty Rise,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Past Pain and Evil, all fierce brood they bore;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While Justice in the holy fire saints her purging rod<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For infinite Ruth: But ’bove them all, in state no other heaven wore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Abounding Patience sat, in likeness of unutterable God!<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p><a name="page_070" id="page_070"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="ALPHA" id="ALPHA"></a>ALPHA.</h2> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Primer than all the Ages,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">One with the Evermore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Key to Life’s sybil pages,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Prophet whose only lore,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Time, tho’ he muse the Writing—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why so crabbed the cypher run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall yet word to the heart’s inviting<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Clear-copied than myriad Sun.<br /></span> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">* * * * * * * *</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Vaster than all relation,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Divine, tho’ mid Dark he grew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest, paltering the fierce negation,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unblest come the only True!<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p><a name="page_071" id="page_071"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="OMEGA" id="OMEGA"></a>OMEGA.</h2> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The goal is ever; all things tend;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faiths must waver; Love shall mend;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never issue come to rest—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earthen course, or starry span,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will of God, or heart of man—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pillowed not upon His breast.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p><a name="page_072" id="page_072"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="GREATNESS" id="GREATNESS"></a>GREATNESS.</h2> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, thou, the fierce englamored,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hence, at never cease, invoked of man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, in the vast procession of the sybil days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Holds up the light he fain would follow, but may not conceive;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose boundless charter and whose nameless goal outpasseth Time:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hast thou, on sufferance of thy liege, the Truth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Same, unwearied on whose fiat waits the mutinous Dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose breath, withal, fans bright the spheres,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Concords the music of their millioned primes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose utter Essence, tho’ in substance clad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yon skies contain not, tho’ the heart may hold:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hast thou, the warrant winked-at, yet the trust, supreme,<a name="page_073" id="page_073"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">On behalf of privilege that might all beseech—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some love past limit, save its ever self—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hast thou, thus, wandered from those shores afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy starry synods and the hosting lights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To meet thine image in these mortal ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So fangled, paltried, and so bitter small—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thine mighty image, which no shadow frets—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such slave to glozing aspect and rude things of Here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So pent in durance to the marble law, whose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">nurse are grim coercion and the bloody hand?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, shalt thou not change it, till its lines enlarge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">False take-offs dwindle, and their craft stand out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor mate vain-glory for vile thrift of both,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fierce engendering of their dwarfish breed?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shalt thou not change it, let Fame’s note come true;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For her brazen trumpet the small silvery flute,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which draws its heart-strains from the pith of Just,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And winds accordant with the patient soul?<a name="page_074" id="page_074"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall its gloried flame not whiter burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The snuff and dross attract no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set lurid off thy streaming torch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose glow and essence than the sun-paths fed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Outpeers the lustre of their myriad fount,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The solemn, fiery-bearing, the uncompassed Night?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yea, shalt thou not change it, bid thine features grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lines more matching, scope and plan more true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dispel refraction and all hemming False,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, girt with mortal tribulation, hang<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their warping shadows twixt the Light and thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall Great be greater not, tho’ it lowly comes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The reward o’ertook not ere the Right say well?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shalt thou sink hellward not the sorry law,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which bids rude Strength—be it brain, or brawn’s—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sit, lofty scorning, by the counseling heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So unaccompanied place its monstrous tribute at vain<a name="page_075" id="page_075"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feet of pride, and brutish idols of the adoring sense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On specious plea of covetous ambition—all its rage to have and wield—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give wage to sorrow than be frankly served<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By lasting wisdom and the patient hope,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Policy and Smug Expedience wink Fresh Cues at all?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shall thy fair likeness not refigured speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each trait come moulded t’ward this crowning True—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, Mind, the mightiest, shall outsee itself,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No gift, not servant, round more full the Soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor in the bounteous equipment find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The meanest haughty crest, nay tricksiest spur upon that crest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereon to hang the damned assurance of a law<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exempting answer to the gauging Just;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But from the grace and undeserved oblation draw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bring heavenly down—whether in man or men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In gathered Nations, or the singler few—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fresh-purposed to the will, fresh trusting<a name="page_076" id="page_076"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sustaining there, the guardian angel of humility,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lifting spirit of the thankful heart?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shalt thou not make it goodly clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">’Tis not Endeavor which alone achieves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save as it aim averts not, but for grace upholds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crowns true some spirit, would set struggling forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At vast contention and in emulous pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yon speechless comment which the Hopes give out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For fresh construction of the rigid text,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The nice enactment, tho’ dispiteous code,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose leased expression and whose outward sum<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are Nature’s equities and ways about?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ay, shall thus, fresh copied not, thine image shine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shalt thou not thus acquit thyself, re-message Faith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The act affirm her, and the daily thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full-knowing that her life lies there, and only hostage unto groping man?<a name="page_077" id="page_077"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shalt thou not thus draw gracious near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till all hearts enfold thee, and, in their rude despite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The scoring Fates cry wondering out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“Our worst is done; there is now no more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our record writes itself, to justice dedicate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And happy Good.”<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If not—alas, misprision and the futile trust!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If not—if Destiny still a boggler stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Knows Hence from Hither, nor which way were best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If yet the rude purveyor, Time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Finds in the vast commission and despatch of him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In his prospects and his comings-on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The near or far, unfeatured still that dream of thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No Perfect ever, scarce thy better there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that blots shall lasting stain it, give it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fresh relief, traduce the glory he had meant<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hold forth; if yet the Vain come worshipped,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the Brute must thrive, more subtly nourished,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But its breed the same, while the Free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tho’ of outward credit, wear a golden clog,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pollutes his title, and defaults the heart:<a name="page_078" id="page_078"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">In few, if Fact be consecrate, the Brain its God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No Faith to hallow, save what Reason hold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rank-rooting never in no soil but Self,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till Hope, an exile—say she breathe at all—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strangered and out of rights, eats her own heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In weary banishment and quail of man:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If this be so, if that could be—were it better not,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus tricked and thwarted of thy clearer self,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This Present, pathless, with worse maze before—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were it better not, white days should cease them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the Stars to roll, invite disruption, and, thro’ wrack<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of things, with leveling Chaos plead afresh some chance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For nobler being and the worthier life?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, say, that doubting vastly his at all retrieve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since still petitioned on crude lines of This,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grudged, narrowed, and beset with voidless happenings of the mortal hour:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say that:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hence, judging nothing blessed that he might contrive,<a name="page_079" id="page_079"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, lest things that had been from their graves stand forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Teem their once imperfections, all infirm they bore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, on mere vision of the dread event,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cry wildly out against the Call,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, taunting, drew them from Death’s perfect shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To stalk once more, at dull repeat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or fevered rush—one goal for both—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their weary paces in some time-bound Here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its hope unpremised, and no Hence made out:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say that—all that—and, were it better not, were it not wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If yet so judging from what lay at hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such guess to go by and provide a cue—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were it better not, were it not well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might faith not do it, and the sense subscribe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let it come to this, if words may broach it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May bear out the thought: to this—that man call down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Call clamorous down, as only umpire twixt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All What and Not; twixt blind Reliance—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her yet remnant there—her fond contention,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the crucial Fact; as sole unraveler<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thick webs of False; for lasting clearance<a name="page_080" id="page_080"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the perjured Fates, that usurp thin image<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the trick of True—Call wildly down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All hearts clean emptied of their bane, the pride—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Miracle knew how; might holily, not grossly, do it—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No breather left not, whom the riddance bore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not in its sorry and unhallowed stead—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crude absence presenced, and new light let in—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some sacred, lofty, and prophetic strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which so should dare it, and,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, curb to Fear, did dread no Judgment,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not appealed with this—that each cause that<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drew him, and each star that led,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must find him shelter, nay, close-challenged, stand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His clear accessory before the fact,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like found, in common, with indicted man:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which so should dare—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All this premise yielded, and its case at rest—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Call fondly down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the infinite Mercies, sitting wide ’bove All,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did, scruteless Justicers, take up the claim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which Pain and Sorrow for the world-heart draws,<a name="page_081" id="page_081"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, which, past all precedent, would thus call down—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere Grace pronounce it, ere its fiat fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against some boundless Issue, some yet Pure toward,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unstained, surely, by gross touch of him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Man’s wayward intimate, sore licensed Time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For his purgation and clear suit of all—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would dare call down—yea, righteous down—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All breathers joining, of a mind for once,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Accord achieved, and a truce at last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No thought so common, nor no wish so near<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As that this scene be halted, and the long act done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its show a burden, and its flaunt a woe,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Call fondly, wildly, tho’ how vainly, down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The long remitted, yet etern withheld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While boundless Loving by great Patience sits—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Twin-seed and concept of the boweled Ruth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, sainting, quickens to immaculate God—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would yet call down, call monstrous down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The infinite respited, his aye unushered<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And unthundered Doom?<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p><a name="page_082" id="page_082"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="PETER_CRONJE" id="PETER_CRONJE"></a>PETER CRONJE.<br /><br /> +Paardeberg, Feb., 1900.</h2> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Unto the templed haunts of her that sits,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And to acclaim of echoes writes the stirring deeds of men—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each noisy plaudit that reverberate flits<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Across the tablet’s white, to never lift its breath again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Each solemn impress, too, the burin graves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And clear and fast, to living strokes, the stone-page holds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">’Gainst his rude blot whose gulf enwaves<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With sweeping crest all flash and strain of baser moulds.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To her who wreathes the Days, their laurel twines,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or, decks no brow Fame’s love to tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Came wisest Clio, Story’s far-recording Muse,<a name="page_083" id="page_083"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">A page in hand, whose bitter brief but glowing lines<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Each trophied shaft, that rose, made prouder swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Blaze fresh its graphic lore with nobler hues.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To her,—this word on lip: “Build Sister now past shock of Days my latest shrine;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Based build it past their dim beseech,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who up thro’ Time wan ghost-hands reach,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To slur with doubt his fair’st design:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be yare! The Heavens lo, for tribute pine!”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And mark, they pact! ’Fore Chancel-bar the high vows plight:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ordained the Altar, while uprose through flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clear-set ’gainst unspent yet and brooding night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sweet, wild star—the beacon flash of Cronje’s name.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p><a name="page_084" id="page_084"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHRISTIAN_DE_WET1" id="CHRISTIAN_DE_WET1"></a>CHRISTIAN DE WET.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></h2> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fame long took wary note of him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So did proud England, too, who, from his hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the blood-red, flowery vintage of her land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has drained his pledges to their bitter brim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till, within the fiery cups, well-nigh an Empire swim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Staggers for sure foot, wonders at that dizzy head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What craze infatuate demons in yon soft spot bred,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence this vile feeling in each once firm limb?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What worked such odious rouse in one so free?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made this man loathe her, so defy all fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That in his eye the price has fallen of all things but Hate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wide Earth, unregioned, where her realms not be?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cries here not, summoning, out, like from some Fury’s song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ’ts dreadful due, some fierce, intolerable Wrong?<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> For a final estimate of De Wet see pages <a href="#page_101">101-102</a>.</p></div> + +<p><a name="page_085" id="page_085"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="OOM_PAUL" id="OOM_PAUL"></a>OOM PAUL.</h2> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This is he: the same, who on the warrant of a man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stood up, gave Fortune battle; to her bitterest face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cried out, “I’ll front your minions ere their slave-hand trace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On free men’s backs, in sorry writing as no other can,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The crooked cypher which smug worldlings plan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Expound, to key and color of their lust-fed wills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the all-in-all a tardy Destiny fulfills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By its star, ports safe, ’gainst stress of man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her, hereto, drifting and unruddered van.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The same, who had his breeding at their rude expense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose hardy training, to the pithy core,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So took, each fated tutor wonders evermore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who wed such aptness to mere mortal sense.<a name="page_086" id="page_086"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the gross, a bear; broad streak of fox; unsaintly, grim;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Withal, what Titan’s mettle gave its heat to him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What Spark re-tempered, that may ne’er grow cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This hero’s substance from a peasant’s mold?<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p><a name="page_087" id="page_087"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CECIL_RHODES" id="CECIL_RHODES"></a>CECIL RHODES.</h2> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Equipped, who doubts, above Life’s common leave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, privy to her council, mind and will<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bar lesser men, past plea of question, do fulfill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The searchless Fates—What did this man achieve<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Hope should stand deject, should at his parting grieve?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What bated sum of human ill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Files now, along with Wrong, its lessened bill?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What brutish yokes less hardened cleave?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How did he ease them—with what large conceive?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What forces muster ’gainst the Dark, but their array<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Broke from the leadership of trusting Day,<a name="page_088" id="page_088"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gave faction life, grew to command,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, cozening, won him from the straighter way—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The same, in whose plain view yon heavens stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rear wide this word, tho’ blurred with Dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“That truly great must first be just.<a name="page_089" id="page_089"></a>”<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAMBERLAIN" id="CHAMBERLAIN"></a>CHAMBERLAIN.</h2> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Stalk Right, from crafty cover of the Might;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Commend your passes with the opportune;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Expound this lesson, never learnt too soon—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To rate all vision by the outward sight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hold all truth misty, save yon tricksy light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which fatuous dazzles from the specious star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where worldly holdings, hedged with mortgage, are,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Each brazen title which still suffered write<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such scribes, rude-figured, on the scroll of Fate:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All this—and yet, who doubts but they fulfill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tho’ at sorry single, some more general Will,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hold dumb intelligence with Wisdom’s state;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, tho’ locked in cypher yet the issue read,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their blatant faction, ’gainst some halcyon date,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Works out, affirming, whence they silent speed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His Council perfect, with no voice at odds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The boundless findings of all-patient God’s?<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p><a name="page_090" id="page_090"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="SALISBURY" id="SALISBURY"></a>SALISBURY.</h2> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Removed from his sires by long stretch of years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet so closely virtued, to their wisdom bred,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their bloods long wasted, but which then ran red,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their dogged valors, which had now been fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are still his coaches and untimely peers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sit at his board, carve at the ghostly spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flout tame the sweeter wine, for which the ages bled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cups paid bitter down in price of tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As, rising to his call, they quench their eerie fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And toast, in heady measures of a wormy Old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">’Gainst newer truths that mock their pledgescold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This, their own grim shadow from a weary past.<a name="page_091" id="page_091"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet, if were their eyes awake, should they not grow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To keener vision, should a cuter ear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not catch Time’s footfall, nor so dare the Law,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, how so trespass do impugn it here—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if its charter on mere probate ran—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stars yet Time’s reaches since his maze began,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Illumes the pathway of the utmost sphere:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yon law of Free, within whose widening groove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For franker answer ’tward the Life, ’tward all—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some response more worthy of the conscious soul—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God, man, and thing, and Nations move?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ay; should they not wonder at that slow-to-learn will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heir to large occasions, but to spurn them still?<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p><a name="page_092" id="page_092"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="PEACE_PENDING" id="PEACE_PENDING"></a>PEACE PENDING.</h2> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Vae Victis! Nay, what Triumph rings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Exultant with that haughty word?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To grace its clarion, tempering brings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No music of a nobler chord?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Twice trophied, not what gentler strain?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which, wiped no blot its honor caught,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would, rank at heart, with flustered brain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still foul the cheer kind victory brought?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the bugle’s drown the choral song,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What strange, deep notes ’twould auguring breathe?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deck fresh the brow of fated Strong<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With teemy bud of baser wreath?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For, lo, it was a gallant fight!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, tho’ ravening Nature still stood up,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pledged fierce, in her own drops, the bleeding Right,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nay, bade her drain the chaliced Cup.<a name="page_093" id="page_093"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tho’ unlineal stripped the lineal True,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Set low the faith, acclaimed the doubt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What witness here but purging threw<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its passioned gage, to bear it out,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That worse than steel or murd’rous flare<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of gaping mouth, whose sudden gust<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flicks out the flame of little life, it were to bear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The yoke that galls with rude Unjust;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That they slay not half, who merely kill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor holds within the execution of the sword<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yon cunning stab which numbs the will,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In its drowse lays on the bondsman’s cord;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That sweet blood spilt in noble cause,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Somehow, sustaining blends with Heaven’s dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So partner’d, for fresh come-up grows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Past choke of False, the larger True;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No harvest else come worth its seed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which holds not fast, gives o’er to taunt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This word—not what is bred, but what we breed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Foregathered hoard, but what we plant,<a name="page_094" id="page_094"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone shall lift mid prides that sink,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To foison come, ’mid thorny steeps of mazy ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where ruthless heats far-fated drink,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Make nought the sap of lustful days;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So pledged alone endure, enlarge,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Make good, withal, some vicared trust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Undue to hope yon scruteless charge<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose brief is Time and riddling Dust;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So nurtured, rear, while Right unfolds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Athwart rude stretch of the perplexing Plan’s,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some keep, some faith, that sheltering holds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sets God twice forth, thro’ will of Man’s.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, yes, it was a gallant fight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In free men’s gashes writ on Story’s page,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor, till her sad tome close in utter night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Destiny muse Time’s vanished stage.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shall hours blank its annaled score,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But bear it down t’ward yet to-comes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At echoed gleam, set forth yon lore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which word, nor thought, nor heart-heave sums—<a name="page_095" id="page_095"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yon love of Free, whose far-off fount,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which, say it flow through beast and slave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Withal, bids man stand up, assert, account<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Exalt the gift—some Self, some Soul it gracious gave;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yon voice of Just, whose auguring sooth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wide-visioned bounds these Nears and Fars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While infinite Patience, she, the Truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Revealed, fulfills her myriad Stars.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p><a name="page_096" id="page_096"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="PEACE" id="PEACE"></a>PEACE.</h2> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The gentle word has gone abroad, and on mens’ lips<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A tremor hangs, a gladness flutters at the kindly sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As, at fond repeat, with gathered tone, the quaver slips<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On swelling heart-heaves ’bout the world’s round,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Charms to its strain the aliens ’t tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yon same music which the high Hopes know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since, true to wisdom, their brave cheer was sung,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Confounding Darkness where the dim Doubts go.<a name="page_097" id="page_097"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And shall heart not heed it, nor its welcome plight;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This cup, not feast it, match its deep propose?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unpledging riot, shall the brutal Might<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not own the Fountain whence all fathom draws?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bathe sweet those gashes and the bitter bruise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall Strength, not holding of her heavyhand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unleague all compact, which, to spite the Truce,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Made Hell confederate with her blind command;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let new days deck her in a nobler wreath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A serener vision lift that groveling brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Duress and rancor, while they bated breathe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Against some Presence where the deep Fates bow,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And, veiled speakers, with mute lay-on hands<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ordain, atoning, while the sky-paths chime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In anthems swelling past their starren strands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That ever postulant, sore-vicared Time.<a name="page_098" id="page_098"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why then—shall Hope not speak it, find no moan was lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She, whose heave of sorrow bade the Destinies shrive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say why her ventures came so sorely tossed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So hard at sea, till Faith did question their at-all arrive?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shall Hope not find it—how Mistrust was out,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yon fierce old reckoner, whose too absolute course<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wary checkings by his peer, the Doubt,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still foul the bearings of the archer Source?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For, has Peace not spoken? on men’s lips<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hangs not a quaver, like some Gladness there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some soothing spirit, from whose balm-wing slips,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fanned wide, this message, it would brothering bear?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Has Peace not spoken, has the gentle word,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Invoking, blessed not the ear again?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has Earth not witnessed, not the Heavens heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its joy fall healing on the hearts of men?<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p><a name="page_099" id="page_099"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="AFTER" id="AFTER"></a>AFTER.<br /><br /> +On reading Louis Botha’s article in the Contemporary<br /> +Review for the month of<br /> +November, 1902.</h2> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How came his right that he should dare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He, and his two mates-at-noble-arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To stand erect, and not with bowed heads and bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beg mites for build-up of their homestead-farms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their hearths which Ravage blacked with sorry flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their children stricken within pesthouse gates,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all rank glories wherein Empire came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To foist her mission on these latter dates;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not be lions of the hour, garb their pride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In neat devisings at the conqueror’s hands;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But let their prayer on yon throb go wide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which fellows justice with the far-offs’t strands?<a name="page_100" id="page_100"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, hearts, whose fires whet the valiant sword;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pushed how to heave the suppliant word!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, guilty act! and worthy Fortune’s frown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ye should speak, let yet accord<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This worthy latter with your erst renown!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still trust, stand nobly up, tho’ all seem down!<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p><a name="page_101" id="page_101"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="CHRISTIAN_DE_WET2" id="CHRISTIAN_DE_WET2"></a>CHRISTIAN DE WET.<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a><br /><br /> +One year later—on appearance of his “Three Years’ War.”</h2> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No book alone is this, but very life;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A throbbing volume with warm blood-beats writ,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To vouch whose pages did the brave deed sit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His traits tho’ lurid with angry strife;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To blaze whose image did not Freedom first,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To her wide symbol, past best trick of art,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In quivering flame-strokes, as no imprint durst<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trace plain each feature on her mighty heart?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nay, in her fierce love, so drew them, that to mortal sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They took on the lineaments of horrid hate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What were but flashes of her beaconed light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fervent visions of large things that wait;<a name="page_102" id="page_102"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">For this man did love her for no worldly store,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might never derogate with venal breath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The divine injunction which her message bore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To voice her biddings, yea, ’gainst grappling Death.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And, when such manhood cries you, “peace,” “no more,”<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall not his foeman reach a brother’s hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such day not with a double lustre pour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its countenance o’er the darkened land?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall Love not smile and understand?<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> A sequel to lines on page <a href="#page_084">84</a>.</p></div> + +<p><a name="page_103" id="page_103"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="SINE_DIE" id="SINE_DIE"></a>SINE DIE.</h2> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Full zodiacs three the fiery sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thro’ maze of stars, his web has spun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since War’s late grimy page begun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To blaze its line—the bloody hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose lurid strokes bade Peace to stand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And, World-heart, O, what hast thou won?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, is the sad act past and done?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, does its score, sunk wide and deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In some blind hell fierce-copied keep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Days, which, tho’ their loath pace creep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft span with strides each reckoned Far;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For such—for Broil’s rude, loud, and noted star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To trace once more upon the Light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yon awful cypher of the Night?<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p><a name="page_104" id="page_104"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="A_CONCORDANCE" id="A_CONCORDANCE"></a>A CONCORDANCE.</h2> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Dawn that ’woke this train of songs—each simple lay—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lowering, then, and stirring hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have ’cross those dim fields passed away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where History, gathering ghostly flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Erst flush with life, now chill and gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would bind them fair, their story tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The silent bloom Death loves so well;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, haply show, how from their seed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What large effects may leveling breed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That Dawn has sped—trite Day knows all;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The roistering winds that ravening blew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have ceased their brawl,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mad sport that drew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">War’s winged hounds, and harpies flew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fanned foul the airs and thicked their breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each heave at bouts with throttling Death.<a name="page_105" id="page_105"></a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">While from the din there rose, I thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brave strains of man no fear might toss:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If, echoing these, a few I wrought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into rude posies, strove to cross<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their wildness with the rose of art,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! they were such slips as throws the heart,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Grafts tongue on thought; here grew to breathe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those clear-felt notes not theirs to choose.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, humbly, while their love did wreathe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A passioned chaplet for the Muse;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did they, to match her large faith there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To vie the crown she auguring bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not weave as well, to extol her sooth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sister garland for the Truth?<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/the_end.png" width="200" height="94" alt="" title="" /> +</p> + +<hr /> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Boer War Lyrics, by Louis Selmer + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BOER WAR LYRICS *** + +***** This file should be named 44641-h.htm or 44641-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/6/4/44641/ + +Produced by Charlene Taylor, Chuck Greif and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions 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