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diff --git a/old/68709-0.txt b/old/68709-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 367a88a..0000000 --- a/old/68709-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1623 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The buccaneer book, by Alden Noble - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The buccaneer book - Songs of the Black Flag - -Author: Alden Noble - -Release Date: August 8, 2022 [eBook #68709] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Tim Lindell, John Campbell and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BUCCANEER BOOK *** - - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE - - Italic text is denoted by _underscores_. - - All misspellings in the text, and inconsistent or archaic usage, - have been left unchanged. - - - - - THE BUCCANEER BOOK - - - - - The Buccaneer Book - - - Songs _of the_ Black Flag - _By_ Alden Noble - - [Illustration] - - - GREEN MOUNTAIN PRESS - 1908 - - - - -_Acknowledgement is hereby made to The Blue Sky Press, Lippincott’s, -Clayton F. Summy, and the Cosmopolitan, for their permitting the -reprint of some of the matter contained in this book._ - - -_Copyright, 1908_, by A. C. NOBLE. - - - - -Contents - - - PROEM 7 - - THE WASTREL 9 - - DRINKING SONG 10 - - SIGH NO MORE, LADIES 11 - - THE END OF THE FIGHT 12 - - TO A MERCHANT SAILOR 13 - - THE LOVE O’ SHIPS 14 - - EXECUTION DOCK 15 - - THE PLANK 16 - - THE BUCCANEER 17 - - 1. THE SAILING 17 - - 2. THE MEETING 18 - - 3. THE WOOING 19 - - 4. THE MARRIAGE 20 - - 5. IN THE SUNRISE 21 - - 6. THE PARTING 22 - - DIG DEEP 23 - - LONG LIVE THE KING 24 - - THE EXILES 25 - - MISERERE 26 - - REVENGE 27 - - THE STERN CHASE 28 - - THE MINSTREL OF THE FLEET 29 - - THE BALLAD OF THE FORTY-YEAR 31 - - MAROONED 35 - - EXPLICET 39 - - - - -Dedication - -To T. W. S. - - - _Ten years ago you found an idle prow - And sent her forth to seek enchanted seas; - Under your wharf she comes to anchor now, - Bearing to you, old friend, her argosies._ - - - - -Proem - - - _The graves are yours that have no name, - Yours were the keels that left no trace, - Save in smoke and sorrow and shame,-- - What have ye now to face?_ - - _Yours were the times when blood was red, - Yours were the years when life was cheap; - All is over: you are dead: - Gentlemen, soundly sleep!_ - - _Soundly sleep with steel at your side, - Dagger and cutlass, stained to the hilt, - Lying so still--Death for your bride-- - In your splendid courage and guilt._ - - _You have fought the fight, you have paid the vow, - Sleep an ye can, then, under the years; - We drain one beaker unto you now: - I give you_: The Buccaneers! - - - “_Who hath not cried ‘Thalassa’ in his soul?_” - - - - -The Wastrel - - - I am the son of _Bor_ the Buccaneer, - Who frighted the first petrel to her lair,-- - I bend my bows where danger drives most near, - My grave shall be where dying is most fair. - (_O ye who prowl by sea-wind, hear ye this!_) - Down the white way that marks the peril-line - I hear the mad white mermaids, drunk o’ the deep, - Those snarling, singing voices of the brine, - From throats that yawn for eyes that never sleep. - (_O fickle mermaids of the barren kiss!_) - - I am the soul that flouts the overseas, - That curbs the wrenching billow-bits of Time, - My prow first pierced the strange Hesperides, - And that first keel of mine,--how deep in slime! - (_O ye who slew by sunrise, mark ye now:_) - Mine are the lips which Death’s grey lips have kissed - Deeply and often round his loving-cup; - I see his beckoning eyrie draped in mist - In every cloud that midnight conjures up. - (_Yet, mark ye, Fear hath never stained my brow._) - - I follow still the road that knows no dust, - I plague the wind-ways with unwearied sail, - And in my veins the flickering Wanderlust - Flames till the panting blood is stilled and pale: - (_But ye who know me, know I may not die!_) - Nay, till the One Wave roll again, as rolled - That first imperious ocean, I must drive - The dark, swart stallions of the Uncontrolled - Home to their stabling, conquered but alive. - (_O ye who drave them longest, let me by!_) - - - - -Drinking Song - - - The sea swings mad in the raging grip - Of the seething, stinging gale, - It moans its hate with a yearning wrath - That bids fair cheeks go pale,-- - But fill the bowl to its brimming tip,-- - Drink! for tonight we sail. - - Ay, fill the bowl and drain the bowl, - Sing hey for the brimming ale, - And fill and drain--again--again-- - Till the smoking wassails fail, - Then hurl the bowl at the trembling host, - Drink! for tonight we sail. - - The sleet beats down like a rain of blows - On a coat of iron mail. - And faint and thin through the ringing din - Is heard the lookout’s hail,-- - But it’s up and up with the foaming cup, - Drink! for tonight we sail. - - And it’s hurl the cup at the landlord’s head - And it’s little his threats avail - For the unpaid score,--with joyous roar - It’s jeer at the beckoning gaol, - And it’s yell farewell through the night of hell,-- - Drink, for tonight we sail! - - - - -“Sigh No More, Ladies” - - - The stars are like thine eyes, my dear, - That sparkle o’er the glass, - The night’s less fair than thy bright hair - So let reproaches pass; - I will avow I love thee now - But sorry rogues are men, - And I have loved before, my dear, - And I shall love again. - - The bubbles are thy laugh, my dear, - That flash up in the wine, - I like to think that thee I drink - In every draught of mine; - I like to hear thy laughter clear - So laugh to please me, then,-- - But I have loved before, my dear, - And I shall love again. - - The sailor-man is free, my dear, - And sailor-men abound, - While I, my dear, am a buccaneer, - So let the glass go round; - I carry my trade, be it ship or maid, - In spite of gods and men,-- - As I have loved before, my dear, - So I shall love again. - - Kiss me again for luck, my dear, - And I will kiss for love, - For I have seen nor maid nor quean - Thy beauty’s not above; - I love, and yet, I shall forget - --And where is your beauty then?-- - For I have loved before, my dear, - And I shall love again. - - - - -The End of the Fight - - - The fight is fought, the foe is sunk, - The tale is told for the golden junk, - And the Skipper sleeps in his final bunk,-- - Ho! for Davy Jones! - - We sighted her twenty below the Horn, - On a restless day in the wakeful morn, - Well for her had she ne’er been born, - Born for Davy Jones. - - Her crew was many and stout and brave, - No quarter wanted and none we gave, - And we left the sick for the shark to save, - Save from Davy Jones. - - We that were cool when the fight begun - Were red and grey by the nooning sun - Ere ever the stubborn goal was won,-- - Meat for Davy Jones. - - With a score of gashes her captain died, - But he heaved the booty over the side - Into the Locker that beckoned wide, - The Locker of Davy Jones. - - The foe is sunk where the wave is blue, - And Davy laughs as he gets his due, - Our Skipper and half his swarthy crew,-- - Ho for Davy Jones! - - - - -To a Merchant Sailor - - - Be yours the prudent sailing - From harbor up to town, - Your timid women wailing - Whenever rain comes down; - A mild and easy creeping - From market-place to mart, - A sound and dreamless sleeping,-- - Sign of a moral heart! - - Be yours the dreary climbing - Of hemp and mesh and mast, - And after proper priming - Up to a Mate at last; - Then years of grog-and-waters, - Of starb’rd, luff, and lee, - And seven sons and daughters - In a shanty by the sea. - - And endless out-and-inning, - And ceaseless back-and-forth, - And toil that lacks the sinning - To make the toiling worth; - And never blood of human - To paint your tarry hand,-- - And sorrow come o’ woman - To meet you when you land. - - Be yours the feeble fighting - That keeps the liver white, - Your turn-the-other smiting - That makes a mock of Fight;-- - A truce to your cautious guarding - Of the bastions of the bay ... - _I_ sail to a wild bombarding - Of the white walls of Cathay! - - - - -The Love o’ Ships - - - O it is ours to hear you, Love, - That laugh like a siren on a siren shore, - With the blue of your eyes like the blue above, - Your yellow hair as the yellow sands before; - You ride on the wind and call us, Sweet, - At the dawn, the purple dawn of the daring day, - And the catch of your breath lends the breakers feet - To help our hearts obey (_frail hearts!_), - To help our hearts obey. - - ’Tis ours to taste the kiss of your mouth - Like the faintest fume of the salt of the sunrise sea, - When the eyes of you flame as the sun of the south, - And your hair, your buoyant yellow hair is free; - ’Tis ours to feel the sting of your breath - That quickens our hearts, as the waves are quicked by the wind,-- - To follow you, Love, till your jealous Death - Finds us and strikes us blind (_poor eyes!_) - Finds us and leaves us blind. - - We in your worship battle and dare - And make of our lives a toy and a jape, content - To see the glint of the sun in your hair, - The ringing deep in your pagan spirit blent; - We follow and woo and are fain to wed - For you have all the wealth of the world to dower,-- - Though our honour has died where faith lies dead - We barter them both for power, (_sad fools!_) - We fling them away for power. - - And sure we see, when the foam is free, - And the hissing waves are hurtling over the rail, - Your form afloat on the film of the sea, - And we fare drunk on a dream of your forehead pale. - We yearn to the goal of your luring lips, - Forgetting the clasp and the human kiss of earth,-- - And we die in the love of you, Love o’ Ships, - Who have sought you from our birth (_mad souls!_) - Who have loved you from our birth. - - - - -Execution Dock - - - The wind sings high around a corse - That hangs wi’ a shriveled smock, - Its echoes die in the desolate sky - O’er Execution Dock. - - The wind has many an eager hand - To harry the grisly Thing - That whirls and spins with fearful grins - That haunt remembering. - - The wild storm-demons of the night - Hurl shuddering breaths of pain - To mingle drear in the winter air - With the clang of the choking chain. - - The long lean posts rise high and black - To the cross-beam where It sways, - While down below, in the humble snow, - A woman kneels and prays. - - - - -The Plank - -(A DOUBLE RONDEAU) - - - Whose turn next to take his stand - Where the plank reels black above the blue,-- - To wrench in vain at the fettered hand?-- - Ere the sea shall smother the last adieu? - - ’Mid the gibes and jeers of the conquering crew - At the devil’s drift of the dread command - That ends the hopeless interview,-- - Whose turn next to take his stand - - On the oaken road to a farther land, - (Narrow and oaken, seen of few, - For the eye were steady indeed that scanned - Where the plank reels black above the blue) - - To know the fear of the souls that slew, - The thrust in the back of the goading brand, - To feel on the forehead the fatal dew, - To wrench in vain at the fettered hand, - - With head held high, but heart unmanned, - With cheek turned pale to the breeze that blew,-- - For his bones shall lie on the dipsey sand - Ere the sea shall smother the last adieu? - - Gods of the false, and gods of the true! - Grant that these fiends may understand - The things that on their plank we knew!-- - That one may say to that cursed band: - _Whose turn next?_ - - - - -The Buccaneer - -(A SONG STORY) - - “_It is related of the notorious Pirate known as the Scourge of the - Caribs, that he would never have to do with any woman, saving only - one; and her he held only a single hour in his arms, yet ever in - his heart. And their meeting happed of an early morn, during his - sacking of her native Town of Harnadino, in the Year of Our Lord, - sixteen hundred and forty-two._”--Armilaud’s Chronicle. - - -1. The Sailing - - Greet ye the morning, laugh her up, - And sing the Sun below, - For it’s out wi’ me to the Carib Sea - Where the scented east-winds blow; - O the day is new and the galleons few - That cling to the desperate rendezvous - We know, we know; - So lay your lingering steel away - And seamen be for another day, - For another Sun and our goal is won, - Out on the Carib Sea! - - For Harnadino harbor lies - But fifty leagues ahead, - So an’ we speak no sail this week - We dine on Spanish bread; - So an’ we grip no scented ship - There’s a fairer goal to our golden trip - I’ the bay, i’ the bay; - So handle your hemp as ye polish your steel, - Gold’s in the offing, war’s at the wheel,-- - And you’re out wi’ me to the Carib Sea, - Out to the Carib Sea! - - -2. The Meeting - - We bearded the garrison first, - The citadel made we our own, - The stout-hearted governor cursed - Till he swallowed it all with a groan; - We hanged him high from the wall - And turned to the helpless town, - As drunk with the dread of it all - The night reeled shuddering down. - - The rage of the ones to resist - Was drowned in the vermeil wave - Where the sea-steel sputtered and hissed - Where my bellowing sea-dogs drave; - Yea, driving the lambs to their fold, - So sacked we with never a light - Save that which the seekers for gold - Let flame in the murderous night. - - I wandered alone in a way - Unplundered, silent, apart, - And saw when the dawning was grey - A Face look into my heart! - She stood, with the sorrowful eyes, - Where the dawn-ghost haunted the dial, - And I measured the idle sunrise - By the lovelier light of her smile. - - -3. The Wooing - - Ah, Princess, hast thou laughed and left - Some faery isle that called thee queen? - And hath that island so bereft - Retained the flouted robe of green - That graced thy lovely ruling, when - It knows thou shalt not come again? - Princess, hearken: wilt thou trust - To my stern clay thy tenderer dust? - Turn to my wooing,--_hush thee, sweet, - ’Tis but my comrades in the street!_ - - Ah, Princess, doth thine empire seem - Far from the anguish here that lies?... - Resume the sceptre of thy dream, - And make crown-jewels of thine eyes, - And rule a realm whose boundaries are - Limited by my boundless war! - Princess, hearken while I woo, - For love is brief, and death is due - To him who kills,--_flinch not, my fair, - ’Tis but my comrades on the stair!_ - - Ah, Princess, of that faery isle - Resign thy reign, and rule with me - With sudden splendour of thy smile - O’er the long reaches of the sea; - And all the world shall vassal be, - Heart of my heart, for love of thee. - Princess, hark to me, and give - Thy love to make my love to live; - Here, to my heart!... _Love, fear no more, - ’Tis but my comrades at the door!_ - - -4. The Marriage - - The still cathedral, high and dark and wide, - The gloom that hid us kneeling side by side,-- - Yea, where the candles at the chancel flared - I took of love a sweetheart and a bride. - (Chanted the priests: _Orate, Domine!_) - - The sudden silence drinking up the din, - The hush that gripped us as the doors swung in - Leaving us soul to soul with solitude,-- - The while the city wallowed in my sin. - (The dreamy chanting ... _Jesu_ ... _Domine_.) - - The long slow Latin periods were hung - Too lovingly upon the abbe’s tongue, - I made a prodding handle of my sword,-- - And all the while the dark-robed brothers sung: - (_Ora pro nobis_ ... _Jesu_ ... _Domine_.) - - I snatched the grey hood from his frowning brows, - Word for his word I vowed the immortal vows, - And kneeling knew an unknown sacrament - In the loud silence of her Father’s House. - (And for my soul the chanting ... _Domine!_) - - -5. In the Sunrise - - Sweet, in the sunrise you and I, - Clasping the love we may not read, - Hear in the rout that eddies by - Unwonted voices strained and high,-- - Love we, the while they bleed. - Now in the dawn their voices seem - Broken and sad with pain and fret,-- - But we are lovers in a dream - Wherefrom we may not waken yet. - Sweetheart, see: the night is gone, - Love is rising,--Love the Dawn! - - Yea, for the chill years you and I - Snatch from the world a gilded cup - And in our fingers hold on high - The magic ichor of Live-or-Die,-- - Laugh we to drink it up! - Mark how the war-notes wild and weird - Fall on the faint wind of the south, - And all our war hath disappeared,-- - Sweet, I am thirsty for thy mouth! - Sweetheart, see where flames the Day, - Love the Dawn illumes our way. - - Here it is Dawn, but bye-and-bye - When Evening draws his sable cloak, - Shall Love be lost? Alone shall I - Pursue the quest where barren lie - My conquests low in smoke? - Never an answer try to speak - For Time it is must answer this; - Lean but thy cheek against my cheek, - Turn but thy kiss to meet my kiss! - Sweetheart, see: their fire dies, - Quenched in the Love-Dawn in thine eyes! - - -6. The Parting - - In the deep guard of the garden, with its arms around her thrown, - There I laid her with the roses for her winding-sheet alone, - And the silent heart within her made no quiver of her breast, - Though the flood that stole her from me left its crimson on her vest. - Yea, I laid her there alone, when our love was just begun, - And I stared in still amazement to behold the tearless Sun. - - Then they tried to come between us, and I slew them when they tried, - For I wanted one more silence with my sweetheart and my bride; - So the world swept on around us while the rose-leaves gathered deep - On the fragrant tomb that held her fast, and lulled my love to sleep. - Then I raised my hands on high, to the barren morning sky, - And I cursed with every oath I knew, the One who let her die. - - Yea, my days should reek with crimson!... On the sudden, round her - head, - Glimmered something that is given to a maiden who is dead, - And I stilled my oaths in wonder and my heart stood hushed to see - How a maiden in her dying consecrated Love for me! - Then I left her there alone, with the roses for her throne, - And I gathered Love within me for the roses he had blown,-- - And in the silent sunrise, Beauty gathered in her own. - - - - -Dig Deep - - Dig deep, and tumble in the bones! - Dig in the sand whence the tide has fled, - Turn them over, the creaking dead, - Silent the skull and still the groans,-- - _Dig deep and tumble in the bones_. - - Man was he once, and the sea-bar moans - A dirge for the death of a soul of steel, - A soul that skippered a saucy keel, - A keel that weathered the hurrying zones,-- - _Dig deep and tumble in the bones_. - - Kings were twain on their tossing thrones, - Flaunted a flag skull-barred and black, - Woe to the merchant that crossed their track! - But one must die while one atones,-- - _Dig deep and tumble in the bones_! - - A guerdon of gold the deep disowns, - A sea-cave robbed of its glittering hoard, - Leaping dinghys to bring aboard - What the ocean gives not, merely loans,-- - _Dig deep and tumble in the bones_. - - A landing at night where the ebb-tide drones, - A thrust, a curse, a yell of pain,-- - Bleaching corpse in wind and rain, - One man snatched from Davy Jones,-- - _Dig deep and tumble in the bones_! - - - - -Long Live the King - - - Long live the King!... The King is dead, - He who had sworn to rule for aye - Where now I swear to reign instead - O’er hearts that hate and hands that slay - Hearts that hate as hot as they.... - Hark to my blooded sea-dogs sing: - (For fallen lord small care have they) - “The King is dead: Long live the King!” - - Beneath his keel the waves were red - From tropic tide to Baltic bay; - Voices of vengeance on his head - In dying gasp from lips of grey - Livened the languor of his way; - If those dead souls do know this thing, - Chuckle they not to hear men say: - “The King is dead: Long live the King?” - - The fame he wooed my name shall wed, - A world shall bend beneath my sway, - For every crimson drop he shed - Full flood will I, from out this day - When first in battle-stained array - I heard my blooded sea-dogs sing, - Standing above him where he lay: - “The King is dead: Long live the King!” - - -L’ENVOI - - Dead foe, the world is mine today! - Yet Time to me this hour must bring - When I, as you, shall hear them say: - “_The King is dead_: long live the King!” - - - - -The Exiles - - - Spread your sail to the wincing weather, - Steer ye out from the port of Youth, - Where Life and Love shall be left together - Hand in glove with the hand of Truth; - Scoff ye loud at the hope that thrills ye - Deep in the gloom of a midnight sea, - And laugh, laugh up at the fiend that kills ye, - But never look down at the doom to be. - - Slither your steel in the swift passado, - Bury her deep in the bosom bared; - Brag ye out in your bold bravado - At them who dare not the things ye dared; - Harry your foes where the tempest blinds ye, - Follow at midnight and follow at morn, - And take brave heed that the darkness finds ye - Harboring fear in your hearts, unborn! - - Pester the long lean unknown reaches-- - Hull far steeped in the setting sun-- - Sully the calm of the moonlit beaches - With the blatant boom of your godless gun; - Drape your couch with the flags that flout ye, - Bury your dead in their ships of pride, - And bid the Devil go on without ye!... - _Never again will he quit your side!_ - - - - -Miserere - - - Our God in Heaven! Were it not for Thee, - We could go down to die as to a feast - Spread on the grey floor of mine host, the Sea,-- - We could die out contented then, at least, - A smile on ev’n our never-smiling lips, - Dreaming of songs and splendours on sunk ships,-- - But by Thy Majesty, ah, what are we? - - Our God in Heaven! Is there such a one, - Or is that promise but the trick of Death - To cheat us of the glory we have won, - To rob of triumph this our parting breath,-- - And does the end come with the heart’s last beat - And does the sea take everything, complete?-- - No man doth know of this, for no man saith. - - But Thou, who knowst how mutable is life, - Wouldst thou condemn to everlasting fire - Us who so oft have felt the thrill of strife - Smother with ashes fall’n from passion’s pyre - The saving spark of pity’s faint appeal?-- - Dost thou not know the shame that we must feel, - Enslaved by him that was our slave, Desire? - - We are so tired!... surely Thou dost know - (Granting that Thou _art_ God, for argument) - How weary are the windings and how slow - The steps whereby our final course is bent, - How widely chill the days, how bleak the gloom? - Surely there is no need for other doom?-- - Ah, Fate’s avenging hand should be content. - - If Thou art God, on utter mercy throned - Above the splendour of the star-hung sky, - Waste not Thy pity on the half-condoned - Whose weakling sins have never reached on high; - But lay Thy hand on each sin-whitened head - And grant to us of Peace abandonéd - Not Hell, but only slumber, when we die. - - - - -Revenge - - - Is Hatred such a restless thing - That all my sleep is broke? - By night I seem to hear the ring - Of steel behind the smoke, - At dawn the chilling fog-bays wreathe - His image in the west, - Ah, _Mary_! if I could but sheathe - My dagger in his breast. - - His name I hear in every shout, - In every wind that sighs, - I see his doubles walk about - Wearing his bloodshot eyes; - I grip my blade ten times a day - Seeing strange men who bear - In guiltless eyes the guilty grey - His green eyes used to wear. - - I would not send a bit of lead, - Nor hang him on a rope; - For I must _feel_ that he is dead, - O I must see him grope - With twitching hands upon the brink - While his life-blood doth start! - I’d give my soul to sink ... sink - This dagger in his heart. - - - - -The Stern Chase - - - A stern chase is a long chase - And the wind dies every hour, - And the veil that covers the ocean’s face - Is Death and Wealth and Power. - - Ten leagues behind, we cursed the wind - That would not blow by day, - Three nights we tried to trail her blind - And thrice she crept away; - O the fog blew thin and the breeze drew in - And the leagues lay green and gone, - By our keel that quivered we vowed to win - Ere the birth of the dismal dawn. - - The wind’s awake, the rollers break, - Split by the scurrying prow, - We gulp our haste for the booty’s sake - And reef the tops’ls now; - For haste is dear, but the goal is near - And she hath not seen nor heard; - Our lights are lost, but our steel is here, - Our ears are sick for the word. - - Our eyes are bright for the chance of night, - We strain across the gap - That yawns ’twixt us and the tossing light - That rocks in the rollers’ lap. - The span half-sped, we loose the head - In the teeth of the ocean’s frown,-- - When the waves recoiled from the things we said, - For the stubborn fog dropped down! - - The fog that shifts, the fog that drifts - Sank lazily onto the sea, - And we snatched one glimpse thro’ the final rifts - And steered from memory.... - Like a wraith of snows her sheets arose,-- - “_’d-a-port!_” her lookout cried; - And our steel leapt forth for its meal of blows, - As our chains caressed her side! - - _A stern chase is a long chase - And the wind dies every hour, - And the veil that covers the ocean’s face - Is Death and Wealth and Power._ - - - - -The Minstrel of the Fleet - - - _It was the minstrel of the fleet - That lured the notes from the willing strings, - He holds the heart of you there at his feet - By the call of heart when the minstrel sings._ - - Years unsped and the world was young - And the haws were green in an English glen; - We kissed by night and the songs we sung - My love and I ne’er sang again. - - I kissed my love on her red red lips, - And my love she wept as her heart would break; - And I left my love for the Love-o’-Ships - And my love believed for our True-Love’s sake. - - I sailed the heart of the year away, - And I sailed the seal of another twain, - And I loved my love for every day - When shone the Sun or rained the rain. - - Years were three and I harked me back - To the hawthorn glen in the golden morn, - I heard the beagle upon my track - And I cursed the soul where the sin was born. - - Your love is gone (in scorn they said), - She would not wait for a buccaneer;-- - My love was true for my love was dead, - Her grave is green as my soul is sere. - - Years be-sped and the world is old - And the dew is fresh on the English green, - And my love’s at rest in the English mould - Here in my heart that ye now have seen. - - _Hard eyes are soft for the song is sweet, - Hard hearts are soft for the song he sings, - It was the minstrel of the fleet - That woke dead Youth from the wailing strings._ - - - - -The Ballad of the Forty-Year - - - One, men saw for an honest man - And one they saw for a buccaneer, - But no man knew when the hunt began, - Lost in the haze of the Forty-Year. - - Friends were they ere the Forty-Year, - Boys together and merry twain; - Youth was on them and Youth was dear - Till Love came by to molest his reign. - - One was gay, and he stole the maid, - In the dark of the moon he bore her far, - And the grave one followed them down the glade - And tracked them close by star and star. - - He caught them by the yellow sea-shore, - To light the rivals the dawn did rise, - And the grave man’s love the gay one bore, - And love for her captor lighted her eyes. - - They fought with knives and the captor bled - So he called on her who was loved of each, - And she sheathed the blow that would stretch him dead, - And slain she lay on the pallid beach. - - The victor gazed for deep and long, - Kneeling beside them, his love and friend; - And the vanquished swore to right the wrong - Ten hells for one, at the other end. - - And the victor saw the lovelight glow - Deep in her eyes, a wondrous flame, - And the word her dying lips crooned low - Was heard of him for his rival’s name. - - The victor looked on her dead, dear face - And hied him off at the dawn of day;-- - But the vanquished kissed her lips for grace, - And side by her side he swooned away. - - * * * * * - - The victor hied him where brave men be - And turned his trick at the wheel of trade; - Many the merchant he steered to sea,-- - Free wi’ his liquor and free wi’ a maid. - - He sailed the seas from Pole to Pole, - An honest captain, as all men knew, - But he drowned in sin his hidden soul - To cheat his Master out of His due. - - But the vanquished set him upon his trail - And tracked him over the world and gone, - And year by year he fared to fail, - Yet tracked and hoped by dawn and dawn. - - The vanquished got him a pirate keel - And wreaked his hate on the merchant-kin - Of the one who fled from his sleepless steel,-- - And shuddered the earth at his open sin. - - He whipt the seas in a blind black ship - That wrought its woes ’twixt tide and tide,-- - For the Forty-Year he touched no lip - Save only that of his dying bride. - - The deep is cruel, and danger naught, - And life is lightly of tempest held; - The Forty-Year their manhood bought, - By the axe of Time was their vigor felled. - - And syne the tracker’s heart is woe, - And the Forty-Year but mocks his ire,-- - Yet zone by zone his lean sails go - Till the gilded east meets the western fire. - - And the Forty-Year befogged his brain - Fettered his hand and clogged his feet, - And he saw the Past as a wraith of rain ... - And they met by noon on the open street. - - Now knew they both what man was there, - And cared they not what Hand had led, - And the tracker lifted his eyes in prayer, - And the tracked man found his voice and said: - - “Now here is my breast and here the knife, - But hear my word, my last in life, - And there above is Heaven’s dome, - And then ye may hurry the hot blade home. - - “Now the Forty-Year is sped and past - And glad am I to behold your face, - To flee no more from fear at last, - To hug the dagger that ends the race. - - “For I have died a thousandfold, - Stabbed have I been by a million blades, - ’Tis worse than death to see the gold - That crowns the heads of living maids, - - “To see and know that mine I slew, - So that nevermore might she greet the day,-- - In all my life hath no man been true, - For the scourge I bear drives Truth away. - - “Friends have I sought by like or lure, - And begged their hands in fellowship, - And felt their stabs, than steel more sure, - The scorn that curls the sneering lip; - - “So never a friend have I known to love, - And never a love have I known to keep, - Now grip this life I am weary of, - And stab me down to a dreamless sleep!” - - The tracker thought of the crimson path - For the Forty-Year his feet had trod, - And he saw the wreck that was left of wrath, - Purged by the flame of the Wrath of God. - - “Take up your life and go your way, - No judge am I to fill your bier, - Wait ye the call of Judgment Day!” - _This is the tale of the Forty-Year._ - - - - -Marooned - - - In all the earth - There is no thing except the sand, and me. - An endless bleaching yellowness lies here - Subject to silence and the silent Sun. - The sand has no beginning, neither end; - Around the isle have I sought end for it - And have found none, and when the wind is high - Even my footprints have been blown away - That marked one circuit ere I made the next. - Sometimes I curse the sea, but all the time - I know that she is guiltless, and I know - That she is kinder than the soulless sand, - For in the end she shall be good to me, - Embrace me tired within her mother-arms - And so shall give me peace. Yet still I curse - Her, for her luring brought me unto this: - Had she not called me those long summer nights - With soft seductive cadence and sweet words - I should not now be waiting here for death. - - Life is a ceaseless hunt for turtle’s eggs. - (O humorous employment!) Day on day - I rise up in the crimson morn and see - The red irrevocable Sun rise too - Out of the eastern wave. All day I watch - Him slowly travel his unyielding path, - Hating him all the while, yet hating more - The sullen gloom of twilight that his fall - Forces the world to wear.... All through the day - I search the stolid sand for what may be - Of life that lies where turtles lay before; - For if today I have enough, tomorrow - Demands relentless meed, and thus I live, - Loathing the living, yet afraid to die. - - How often have I tried to end it all! - So often have I failed. I, who was known - Wide as a living terror of red death, - Whom countless victims of my sword have cursed - Dying,--I am afraid to kill myself. - I have lain down and bade goodbye to earth, - Glared at the jeering sea and mocking sand, - Taken my dagger by its jade-green hilt, - Looked on the edge that was to drink my blood, - Loosened the shirt upon my breast, and there - Fumbled with grey unfeeling finger-tips - To find the proper rib, have placed the point - Sharp on the spot, have closed my eyes and laid - My left arm down beside me, clutched the dagger,-- - And felt the end with thrice ten thousand pangs. - - Yet always at the first fierce prick of death - Trembling I snatch the blue unwilling blade - Off from my breast and fling it far away - Hoping that I may lose it, and not know - Such torture more.... And after wide-eyed night, - I have crept back at the first streak of dawn - And sought about the drifted, smitten sand - To find the blade that is my only friend, - And kissed it when I found it.... Suicides - Men brand as cowards; they are more brave than I. - For death would be so quiet. I should hear - Not even the surges beat upon the reef. - I am so far from all the living world - I know the natural vultures come not here; - So would my body lie unpicked and still - Until the Sun had bleached it all away. - - Time has unfolded to me many things ... - I am more wise than when I came: I know - That it is folly to upbraid the Sun - For he can take no harm of it; ’tis folly - To rush each morning to the barren cliff - O’erlooking all the ocean, and to scan - The bare horizon for a sail,--because - There is no sail on this side of the earth. - ’Tis mad to hope--and surely Hope is dead? - I have killed hope so many aching days, - By myriad hopeless nights has she been slain, - Till I have learned that she is really dead.... - And yet, and yet,--she has a terrible ghost! - I have learned too that it is very mad - To rail at Fate, or at the sea or sand, - To curse the coming in or going out - Of days like, each to each. It is in vain - That I do keep my dagger sharp and bright - For I shall never sheathe it in his breast. - - I dread the stubborn days’ relentless round, - The dazzling sunlight on the waves that dance - To mock my soul that shall not dance again; - The days are twice as long as may be borne, - Yet must be borne. Sometimes I even laugh - To see how small a thing a man’s life is. - The nights are loneliest. The buoyant stars - May rove across the heavens. I must lie - Flat on my back and watch them; I alone - Must live in one small corner of the world. - There is a tavern in a place I knew, - Kept by a shrew, a veritable hag,-- - I cannot even wander in her door,-- - How sweet to me her railing now would sound. - I fear the nights ... for then comes Memory. - I am more brave when I forget to think. - ... O Love, your eyes shine for me in the night. - I taste the perfume of your last caress, - The last, long, throbbing kissing of your mouth. - Your “I love thee” is magic in my ear - To mingle with the surf upon the shore. - - I have lived the life of every man in mine. - I have been sullen as a convict is, - I have been sad as any maid in love, - I have outgibed the mad loud mirth of fools, - I have been happy as a little child, - Have grown religious, touched philosophy, - Have in a breath blasphemed and laughed and wept. - Yet all moods pass. The sea is just the same, - And I am grown old looking on its face. - I know that every wave that laps the strand - Is like to every other wave that comes, - As many follow this one, as the last. - - I say my prayers to him, because I know - Somehow that wheresoever he may be - He is awake and hears me. It is sweet - To call around his head the flames of hell,-- - It is my only pleasure. And he hears - Across the gulf of time, and in his turn - Curses my hate that will not let him sleep. - - The Sun is falling low. Upon the earth - There is no thing except the sand, and me. - - - - -Explicet - - - Dying, you tell me, dying? - The day drifts fast to night; - The craft by the headland lying - Lean to the headland light; - I hear the stout sea-cables sighing,-- - And I die tonight.... - - The ghost of a breeze is blowing, - Failing and falling faint, - There’s none where I am going-- - ’Fore God, I’m bound there ain’t; - None knew more surely than I’m knowing - I’m no sculptured saint. - - I’d hoped to meet him fighting, - Be dead before I fell,-- - Death should be more exciting - Than this dull dipsey swell; - I’d always thought to end it fighting,-- - But maybe it’s just as well. - - Away with that dead grinning - Mimicking crucifix! - I’ll see out my own sinning, - Last cards shall take last tricks; - No whining end to my beginning, - My creed and His won’t mix. - - Dying.... I know it: dying. - The sun is sunk from sight; - The stars alone are trying - To send me down some light; - The dead day-wind in the dark is sighing.... - It is night.... - - -Here ends the Buccaneer Book; written by Alden Noble, Press-mark -designed by Harry Townsend, and the whole imprinted at the Green -Mountain Press, Brattleboro, Vermont, in December, Nineteen Hundred -and Eight, the Edition being limited to One Hundred and Fifty Copies - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BUCCANEER BOOK *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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