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The Project Gutenberg eBook of Boer War Lyrics, by Louis Selmer.
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<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44641 ***</div>
<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 />
<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44641 ***</div>
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