Chapter 7
Oh Thou Who has builded the World, Oh Thou Who has lighted the Sun, Oh Thou Who has darkened the Tarn, Judge Thou The sin of the Stone that was hurled By the goat from the light of the Sun, As she sinks in the mire of the Tarn, Even now--even now--even now!
SONG OF THE RED WAR-BOAT
(A.D. 683)
Shove off from the wharf-edge! Steady! Watch for a smooth! Give way! If she feels the lop already She'll stand on her head in the bay. It's ebb--it's dusk--it's blowing. The shoals are a mile of white. But (snatch her along!) we're going To find our master to-night.
_For we hold that in all disaster Of shipwreck, storm, or sword, A Man must stand by his Master When once he has pledged his word._
Raging seas have we rowed in, But we seldom saw them thus; Our master is angry with Odin-- Odin is angry with us! Heavy odds have we taken, But never before such odds. The Gods know they are forsaken, We must risk the wrath of the Gods!
Over the crest she flies from, Into its hollow she drops, Cringes and clears her eyes from The wind-torn breaker-tops, Ere out on the shrieking shoulder Of a hill-high surge she drives. Meet her! Meet her and hold her! Pull for your scoundrel lives!
The thunders bellow and clamour The harm that they mean to do! There goes Thor's own Hammer Cracking the dark in two! Close! But the blow has missed her, Here comes the wind of the blow! Row or the squall'll twist her Broadside on to it!--_Row!_
Heark 'ee, Thor of the Thunder! We are not here for a jest-- For wager, warfare, or plunder, Or to put your power to test. This work is none of our wishing-- We would house at home if we might-- But our master is wrecked out fishing. We go to find him to-night.
_For we hold that in all disaster-- As the Gods Themselves have said-- A Man must stand by his Master Till one of the two is dead._
That is our way of thinking, Now you can do as you will, While we try to save her from sinking And hold her head to it still. Bale her and keep her moving, Or she'll break her back in the trough.... Who said the weather's improving, Or the swells are taking off?
Sodden, and chafed and aching, Gone in the loins and knees-- No matter--the day is breaking, And there's far less weight to the seas! Up mast, and finish baling-- In oars, and out with the mead-- The rest will be two-reef sailing.... That was a night indeed!
_But we hold that in all disaster (And faith, we have found it true!) If only you stand by your master, The Gods will stand by you!_
MORNING SONG IN THE JUNGLE
One moment past our bodies cast No shadow on the plain; Now clear and black they stride our track, And we run home again. In morning hush, each rock and bush Stands hard, and high, and raw: Then give the Call: '_Good rest to all_ _That keep the Jungle Law!'_
Now horn and pelt our peoples melt In covert to abide; Now, crouched and still, to cave and hill Our Jungle Barons glide. Now, stark and plain, Man's oxen strain, That draw the new-yoked plough; Now, stripped and dread, the dawn is red Above the lit _talao_.
Ho! Get to lair! The sun's aflare Behind the breathing grass: And creaking through the young bamboo The warning whispers pass. By day made strange, the woods we range With blinking eyes we scan; While down the skies the wild duck cries: '_The Day--the Day to Man!_'
The dew is dried that drenched our hide, Or washed about our way; And where we drank, the puddled bank Is crisping into clay. The traitor Dark gives up each mark Of stretched or hooded claw; Then hear the Call: '_Good rest to all That keep the Jungle Law!_'
BLUE ROSES
Roses red and roses white Plucked I for my love's delight. She would none of all my posies-- Bade me gather her blue roses.
Half the world I wandered through, Seeking where such flowers grew; Half the world unto my quest Answered me with laugh and jest.
Home I came at wintertide, But my silly love had died, Seeking with her latest breath Roses from the arms of Death.
It may be beyond the grave She shall find what she would have. Mine was but an idle quest-- Roses white and red are best.
A RIPPLE SONG
Once a ripple came to land In the golden sunset burning-- Lapped against a maiden's hand, By the ford returning.
_Dainty foot and gentle breast-- Here, across, be glad and rest. 'Maiden, wait,' the ripple saith; 'Wait awhile, for I am Death!'_
'Where my lover calls I go-- Shame it were to treat him coldly-- 'Twas a fish that circled so, Turning over boldly.'
_Dainty foot and tender heart, Wait the loaded ferry-cart. 'Wait, ah, wait!' the ripple saith; 'Maiden, wait, for I am Death!'_
'When my lover calls I haste-- Dame Disdain was never wedded!' Ripple-ripple round her waist, Clear the current eddied.
_Foolish heart and faithful hand, Little feet that touched no land. Far away the ripple sped, Ripple--ripple--running red!_
BUTTERFLIES
Eyes aloft, over dangerous places, The children follow the butterflies, And, in the sweat of their upturned faces, Slash with a net at the empty skies.
So it goes they fall amid brambles, And sting their toes on the nettle-tops, Till, after a thousand scratches and scrambles, They wipe their brows and the hunting stops.
Then to quiet them comes their father And stills the riot of pain and grief, Saying, 'Little ones, go and gather Out of my garden a cabbage-leaf.
'You will find on it whorls and clots of Dull grey eggs that, properly fed, Turn, by way of the worm, to lots of Glorious butterflies raised from the dead...,'
'Heaven is beautiful, Earth is ugly,' The three-dimensioned preacher saith, So we must not look where the snail and the slug lie For Psyche's birth.... And that is our death!
MY LADY'S LAW
The Law whereby my lady moves Was never Law to me, But 'tis enough that she approves Whatever Law it be.
For in that Law, and by that Law, My constant course I'll steer; Not that I heed or deem it dread, But that she holds it dear.
Tho' Asia sent for my content Her richest argosies, Those would I spurn, and bid return, If that should give her ease.
With equal heart I'd watch depart Each spicèd sail from sight, Sans bitterness, desiring less Great gear than her delight.
Though Kings made swift with many a gift My proven sword to hire, I would not go nor serve 'em so, Except at her desire.
With even mind, I'd put behind Adventure and acclaim, And clean give o'er, esteeming more Her favour than my fame.
Yet such am I, yea such am I-- Sore bond and freest free, The Law that sways my lady's ways Is mystery to me!
THE NURSING SISTER
_(Maternity Hospital)_
Our sister sayeth such and such. And we must bow to her behests; Our sister toileth overmuch, Our little maid that hath no breasts.
A field untilled, a web unwove, A flower withheld from sun or bee, An alien in the courts of Love, And--teacher unto such as we!
We love her, but we laugh the while, We laugh, but sobs are mixed with laughter; Our sister hath no time to smile, She knows not what must follow after.
Wind of the South, arise and blow, From beds of spice thy locks shake free; Breathe on her heart that she may know, Breathe on her eyes that she may see.
Alas! we vex her with our mirth, And maze her with most tender scorn, Who stands beside the gates of Birth, Herself a child--a child unborn!
_Our sister sayeth such and such, And we must bow to her behests; Our sister toileth overmuch, Our little maid that hath no breasts._
THE LOVE SONG OF HAR DYAL
Alone upon the housetops to the North I turn and watch the lightning in the sky-- The glamour of thy footsteps in the North. _Come back to me, Beloved, or I die._
Below my feet the still bazar is laid-- Far, far below the weary camels lie-- The camels and the captives of thy raid. _Come back to me, Beloved, or I die!_
My father's wife is old and harsh with years, And drudge of all my father's house am I-- My bread is sorrow and my drink is tears. _Come back to me. Beloved, or I die!_
A DEDICATION
And they were stronger hands than mine That digged the Ruby from the earth-- More cunning brains that made it worth The large desire of a king, And stouter hearts that through the brine Went down the perfect Pearl to bring.
Lo, I have wrought in common clay Rude figures of a rough-hewn race, Since pearls strew not the market-place In this my town of banishment, Where with the shifting dust I play, And eat the bread of discontent.
Yet is there life in that I make. O thou who knowest, turn and see-- As thou hast power over me So have I power over these, Because I wrought them for thy sake, And breathed in them mine agonies.
Small mirth was in the making--now I lift the cloth that cloaks the clay, And, wearied, at thy feet I lay My wares, ere I go forth to sell. The long bazar will praise, but thou-- Heart of my heart--have I done well?
MOTHER O' MINE
If I were hanged on the highest hill, _Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!_ I know whose love would follow me still, _Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!_
If I were drowned in the deepest sea, _Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!_ I know whose tears would come down to me, _Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!_
If I were damned of body and soul, I know whose prayers would make me whole, _Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!_
THE ONLY SON
She dropped the bar, she shot the bolt, she fed the fire anew, For she heard a whimper under the sill and a great grey paw came through. The fresh flame comforted the hut and shone on the roof-beam, And the Only Son lay down again and dreamed that he dreamed a dream. The last ash fell from the withered log with the click of a falling spark, And the Only Son woke up again, and called across the dark:-- 'Now was I born of womankind and laid in a mother's breast? For I have dreamed of a shaggy hide whereon I went to rest? And was I born of womankind and laid on a father's arm? For I have dreamed of clashing teeth that guarded me from harm. And was I born an Only Son and did I play alone? For I have dreamed of comrades twain that bit me to the bone. And did I break the barley-cake and steep it in the tyre? For I have dreamed of a youngling kid new-riven from the byre. For I have dreamed of a midnight sky and a midnight call to blood, And red-mouthed shadows racing by, that thrust me from my food. 'Tis an hour yet and an hour yet to the rising of the moon, But I can see the black roof-tree as plain as it were noon. 'Tis a league and a league to the Lena Falls where the trooping blackbuck go; But I can hear the little fawn that bleats behind the doe. 'Tis a league and a league to the Lena Falls where the crop and the upland meet, But I can smell the wet dawn-wind that wakes the sprouting wheat. Unbar the door, I may not bide, but I must out and see If those are wolves that wait outside or my own kin to me!'
* * * * *
She loosed the bar, she slid the bolt, she opened the door anon, And a grey bitch-wolf came out of the dark and fawned on the Only Son!
MOWGLI'S SONG AGAINST PEOPLE
I will let loose against you the fleet-footed vines-- I will call in the Jungle to stamp out your lines! The roofs shall fade before it, The house-beams shall fall, And the _Karela_, the bitter _Karela_, Shall cover it all!
In the gates of these your councils my people shall sing, In the doors of these your garners the Bat-folk shall cling; And the snake shall be your watchman, By a hearthstone unswept; For the _Karela_, the bitter _Karela_, Shall fruit where ye slept!
Ye shall not see my strikers; ye shall hear them and guess; By night, before the moon-rise, I will send for my cess, And the wolf shall be your herdsman By a landmark removed, For the _Karela_, the bitter _Karela_, Shall seed where ye loved!
I will reap your fields before you at the hands of a host; Ye shall glean behind my reapers for the bread that is lost; And the deer shall be your oxen On a headland untilled, For the _Karela_, the bitter _Karela_, Shall leaf where ye build!
I have untied against you the club-footed vines-- I have sent in the Jungle to swamp out your lines! The trees--the trees are on you! The house-beams shall fall, And the _Karela_, the bitter _Karela_, Shall cover you all!
ROMULUS AND REMUS
Oh, little did the Wolf-Child care, When first he planned his home, What City should arise and bear The weight and state of Rome!
A shiftless, westward-wandering tramp, Checked by the Tiber flood, He reared a wall around his camp Of uninspired mud.
But when his brother leaped the Wall And mocked its height and make, He guessed the future of it all And slew him for its sake.
Swift was the blow--swift as the thought Which showed him in that hour How unbelief may bring to naught The early steps of Power.
Foreseeing Time's imperilled hopes Of Glory, Grace, and Love-- All singers, Cæsars, artists, Popes-- Would fail if Remus throve,
He sent his brother to the Gods, And, when the fit was o'er, Went on collecting turves and clods To build the Wall once more!
CHAPTER HEADINGS
THE JUNGLE BOOKS
Now Chil the Kite brings home the night That Mang the Bat sets free-- The herds are shut in byre and hut For loosed till dawn are we. This is the hour of pride and power, Talon and tush and claw. Oh hear the call!--Good hunting all That keep the Jungle Law!
_Mowgli's Brothers._
* * * * *
His spots are the joy of the Leopard: his horns are the Buffalo's pride. Be clean, for the strength of the hunter is known by the gloss of his hide. If ye find that the bullock can toss you, or the heavy-browed Sambhur can gore; Ye need not stop work to inform us. We knew it ten seasons before. Oppress not the cubs of the stranger, but hail them as Sister and Brother, For though they are little and fubsy, it may be the Bear is their mother. 'There is none like to me!' says the Cub in the pride of his earliest kill; But the Jungle is large and the Cub he is small. Let him think and be still.
_Kaa's Hunting._
* * * * *
The stream is shrunk--the pool is dry, And we be comrades, thou and I; With fevered jowl and dusty flank Each jostling each along the bank; And, by one drouthy fear made still, Foregoing thought of quest or kill. Now 'neath his dam the fawn may see, The lean Pack-wolf as cowed as he, And the tall buck, unflinching, note The fangs that tore his father's throat. _The pools are shrunk--the streams are dry, And we be playmates, thou and I, Till yonder cloud--Good Hunting!--loose The rain that breaks our Water Truce._
_How Fear Came._
* * * * *
What of the hunting, hunter bold? _Brother, the watch was long and cold._ What of the quarry ye went to kill? _Brother, he crops in the jungle still._ Where is the power that made your pride? _Brother, it ebbs from my flank and side._ Where is the haste that ye hurry by? _Brother, I go to my lair to die!_
_'Tiger-Tiger!'_
* * * * *
Veil them, cover them, wall them round-- Blossom, and creeper, and weed-- Let us forget the sight and the sound, The smell and the touch of the breed!
Fat black ash by the altar-stone. Here is the white-foot rain, And the does bring forth in the fields unsown, And none shall affright them again; And the blind walls crumble, unknown, o'erthrown, And none shall inhabit again!
_Letting in the Jungle._
* * * * *
These are the Four that are never content, that have never been filled since the Dews began-- Jacala's mouth, and the glut of the Kite, and the hands of the Ape, and the Eyes of Man.
_The King's Ankus._
* * * * *
For our white and our excellent nights--for the nights of swift running, Fair ranging, far-seeing, good hunting, sure cunning! For the smells of the dawning, untainted, ere dew has departed! For the rush through the mist, and the quarry blind-started! For the cry of our mates when the sambhur has wheeled and is standing at bay! For the risk and the riot of night! For the sleep at the lair-mouth by day! It is met, and we go to the fight. Bay! O bay!
_Red Dog._
* * * * *
Man goes to Man! Cry the challenge through the Jungle! He that was our Brother goes away. Hear, now, and judge, O ye People of the Jungle,-- Answer, who shall turn him--who shall stay?
Man goes to Man! He is weeping in the Jungle: He that was our Brother sorrows sore! Man goes to Man! (Oh, we loved him in the Jungle!) To the Man-Trail where we may not follow more.
_The Spring Running._
* * * * *
At the hole where he went in Red-Eye called to Wrinkle-Skin. Hear what little Red-Eye saith: 'Nag, come up and dance with death!'
Eye to eye and head to head, _(Keep the measure, Nag.)_ This shall end when one is dead; _(At thy pleasure, Nag.)_
Turn for turn and twist for twist-- _(Run and hide thee, Nag.)_ Hah! The hooded Death has missed! _(Woe betide thee, Nag!)_
_'Rikki-Tikki-Tavi.'_
* * * * *
Oh! hush thee, my baby, the night is behind us, And black are the waters that sparkled so green. The moon, o'er the combers, looks downward to find us At rest in the hollows that rustle between. Where billow meets billow, there soft be thy pillow; Ah, weary wee flipperling, curl at thy ease! The storm shall not wake thee, nor shark overtake thee, Asleep in the arms of the slow-swinging seas.
_The White Seal._
* * * * *
You mustn't swim till you're six weeks old, Or your head will be sunk by your heels; And summer gales and Killer Whales Are bad for baby seals. Are bad for baby seals, dear rat, As bad as bad can be; But splash and grow strong, And you can't be wrong, Child of the Open Sea!
_The White Seal._
* * * * *
I will remember what I was, I am sick of rope and chain. I will remember my old strength and all my forest affairs. I will not sell my back to man for a bundle of sugar-cane. I will go out to my own kind, and the wood-folk in their lairs.
I will go out until the day, until the morning break, Out to the winds' untainted kiss, the waters' clean caress. I will forget my ankle-ring and snap my picket-stake. I will revisit my lost loves, and playmates master-less!
_Toomai of the Elephants._
* * * * *
The People of the Eastern Ice, they are melting like the snow-- They beg for coffee and sugar; they go where the white men go. The People of the Western Ice, they learn to steal and fight; They sell their furs to the trading-post; they sell their souls to the white. The People of the Southern Ice, they trade with the whaler's crew; Their women have many ribbons, but their tents are torn and few. But the People of the Elder Ice, beyond the white man's ken-- Their spears are made of the narwhal-horn, and they are the last of the Men!
_Quiquern._
* * * * *
When ye say to Tabaqui, 'My Brother!' when ye call the Hyena to meat, Ye may cry the Full Truce with Jacala--the Belly that runs on four feet.
_The Undertakers._
* * * * *
The night we felt the earth would move We stole and plucked him by the hand, Because we loved him with the love That knows but cannot understand.
And when the roaring hillside broke, And all our world fell down in rain, We saved him, we the Little Folk; But lo! he does not come again!
Mourn now, we saved him for the sake Of such poor love as wild ones may. Mourn ye! Our brother will not wake, And his own kind drive us away!
_The Miracle of Purun Bhagat._
THE EGG-SHELL
The wind took off with the sunset-- The fog came up with the tide, When the Witch of the North took an Egg-shell With a little Blue Devil inside. 'Sink,' she said, 'or swim,' she said, 'It's all you will get from me. And that is the finish of _him_!' she said. And the Egg-shell went to sea.
The wind fell dead with the midnight-- The fog shut down like a sheet, When the Witch of the North heard the Egg-shell Feeling by hand for a fleet. 'Get!' she said, 'or you're gone,' she said, But the little Blue Devil said 'No!' 'The sights are just coming on,' he said, And he let the Whitehead go.
The wind got up with the morning-- And the fog blew off with the rain, When the Witch of the North saw the Egg-shell And the little Blue Devil again. 'Did you swim?' she said. 'Did you sink?' she said, And the little Blue Devil replied: 'For myself I swam, but I think,' he said, 'There's somebody sinking outside.'
THE KING'S TASK