Chapter 8
After the sack of the City, when Rome was sunk to a name, In the years that the lights were darkened, or ever St. Wilfrid came, Low on the borders of Britain (the ancient poets sing) Between the Cliff and the Forest there ruled a Saxon King. Stubborn all were his people from cottar to overlord-- Not to be cowed by the cudgel, scarce to be schooled by the sword; Quick to turn at their pleasure, cruel to cross in their mood, And set on paths of their choosing as the hogs of Andred's Wood. Laws they made in the Witan--the laws of flaying and fine-- Common, loppage and pannage, the theft and the track of kine-- Statutes of tun and market for the fish and the malt and the meal-- The tax on the Bramber packhorse and the tax on the Hastings keel. Over the graves of the Druids and under the wreck of Rome Rudely but surely they bedded the plinth of the days to come. Behind the feet of the Legions and before the Norseman's ire, Rudely but greatly begat they the framing of state and shire. Rudely but deeply they laboured, and their labour stands till now, If we trace on our ancient headlands the twist of their eight-ox plough. There came a king from Hamtun, by Bosenham he came. He filled Use with slaughter, and Lewes he gave to flame. He smote while they sat in the Witan--sudden he smote and sore, That his fleet was gathered at Selsea ere they mustered at Cymen's Ore. Blithe went the Saxons to battle, by down and wood and mere, But thrice the acorns ripened ere the western mark was clear. Thrice was the beechmast gathered, and the Beltane fires burned Thrice, and the beeves were salted thrice ere the host returned. They drove that king from Hamtun, by Bosenham o'erthrown, Out of Rugnor to Wilton they made his land their own. Camps they builded at Gilling, at Basing and Alresford, But wrath abode in the Saxons from cottar to overlord. Wrath at the weary war-game, at the foe that snapped and ran Wolf-wise feigning and flying, and wolf-wise snatching his man. Wrath for their spears unready, their levies new to the blades-- Shame for the helpless sieges and the scornful ambuscades. At hearth and tavern and market, wherever the tale was told, Shame and wrath had the Saxons because of their boasts of old. And some would drink and deny it, and some would pray and atone; But the most part, after their anger, avouched that the sin was their own. Wherefore, girding together, up to the Witan they came, And as they had shouldered their bucklers so did they shoulder their blame. For that was the wont of the Saxons (the ancient poets sing), And first they spoke in the Witan and then they spoke to the King: 'Edward King of the Saxons, thou knowest from sire to son, 'One is the King and his People--in gain and ungain one. 'Count we the gain together. With doubtings and spread dismays 'We have broken a foolish people--but after many days. 'Count we the loss together. Warlocks hampered our arms, 'We were tricked as by magic, we were turned as by charms. 'We went down to the battle and the road was plain to keep, 'But our angry eyes were holden, and we struck as they strike in sleep-- 'Men new shaken from slumber, sweating, with eyes a-stare 'Little blows uncertain dealt on the useless air. 'Also a vision betrayed us, and a lying tale made bold 'That we looked to hold what we had not and to have what we did not hold: 'That a shield should give us shelter--that a sword should give us power-- 'A shield snatched up at a venture and a hilt scarce handled an hour: 'That being rich in the open, we should be strong in the close-- 'And the Gods would sell us a cunning for the day that we met our foes. 'This was the work of wizards, but not with our foe they bide, 'In our own camp we took them, and their names are Sloth and Pride. 'Our pride was before the battle: our sloth ere we lifted spear, 'But hid in the heart of the people as the fever hides in the mere, 'Waiting only the war-game, the heat of the strife to rise 'As the ague fumes round Oxeney when the rotting reed-bed dries. 'But now we are purged of that fever--cleansed by the letting of blood, 'Something leaner of body--something keener of mood. 'And the men new-freed from the levies return to the fields again, 'Matching a hundred battles, cottar and lord and thane. 'And they talk aloud in the temples where the ancient wargods are. 'They thumb and mock and belittle the holy harness of war. 'They jest at the sacred chariots, the robes and the gilded staff. 'These things fill them with laughter, they lean on their spears and laugh. 'The men grown old in the war-game, hither and thither they range-- 'And scorn and laughter together are sire and dam of change; 'And change may be good or evil--but we know not what it will bring, 'Therefore our King must teach us. That is thy task, O King!'
POSEIDON'S LAW
When the robust and Brass-bound Man commissioned first for sea His fragile raft, Poseidon laughed, and 'Mariner,' said he, 'Behold, a Law immutable I lay on thee and thine, That never shall ye act or tell a falsehood at my shrine.
'Let Zeus adjudge your landward kin, whose votive meal and salt At easy-cheated altars win oblivion for the fault, But you the unhoodwinked wave shall test--the immediate gulf condemn-- Except ye owe the Fates a jest, be slow to jest with them.
'Ye shall not clear by Greekly speech, nor cozen from your path The twinkling shoal, the leeward beach, and Hadria's white-lipped wrath; Nor tempt with painted cloth for wood my fraud-avenging hosts; Nor make at all, or all make good, your bulwarks and your boasts.
'Now and henceforward serve unshod, through wet and wakeful shifts, A present and oppressive God, but take, to aid, my gifts-- The wide and windward-opening eye, the large and lavish hand, The soul that cannot tell a lie--except upon the land!'
In dromond and in catafract--wet, wakeful, windward-eyed-- He kept Poseidon's Law intact (his ship and freight beside), But, once discharged the dromond's hold, the bireme beached once more, Splendaciously mendacious rolled the Brass-bound Man ashore.
The thranite now and thalamite are pressures low and high, And where three hundred blades bit white the twin-propellers ply: The God that hailed, the keel that sailed, are changed beyond recall, But the robust and Brass-bound Man he is not changed at all!
From Punt returned, from Phormio's Fleet, from Javan and Gadire, He strongly occupies the seat about the tavern fire, And, moist with much Falernian or smoked Massilian juice, Revenges there the Brass-bound Man his long-enforced truce!
A TRUTHFUL SONG
The Bricklayer:
_I tell this tale, which is strictly true, Just by way of convincing you How very little, since things mere made, Things have altered in the building trade._
A year ago, come the middle of March, We was building flats near the Marble Arch, When a thin young man with coal-black hair Came up to watch us working there.
Now there wasn't a trick in brick or stone That this young man hadn't seen or known; Nor there wasn't a tool from trowel to maul But this young man could use 'em all!
Then up and spoke the plumbyers bold, Which was laying the pipes for the hot and cold: 'Since you with us have made so free, Will you kindly say what your name might be?'
The young man kindly answered them: 'It might be Lot or Methusalem, Or it might be Moses (a man I hate), Whereas it is Pharaoh surnamed the Great.
'Your glazing is new and your plumbing's strange, But otherwise I perceive no change, And in less than a month if you do as I bid I'd learn you to build me a Pyramid!'
The Sailor:
_I tell this tale, which is stricter true, Just by way of convincing you How very little, since things was made, Things have altered in the shipwright's trade._
In Blackwall Basin yesterday A China barque re-fitting lay, When a fat old man with snow-white hair Came up to watch us working there.
Now there wasn't a knot which the riggers knew But the old man made it--and better too; Nor there wasn't a sheet, or a lift, or a brace. But the old man knew its lead and place.
Then up and spoke the caulkyers bold, Which was packing the pump in the afterhold: 'Since you with us have made so free, Will you kindly tell what your name might be?'
The old man kindly answered them: 'It might be Japheth, it might be Shem, Or it might be Ham (though his skin was dark), Whereas it is Noah, commanding the Ark.
'Your wheel is new and your pumps are strange, But otherwise I perceive no change, And in less than a week, if she did not ground, I'd sail this hooker the wide world round!'
Both:
_We tell these tales, which are strictest true, Just by way of convincing you How very little, since things was made, Anything alters in any one's trade._
A SMUGGLER'S SONG
If you wake at midnight, and hear a horse's feet, Don't go drawing back the blind, or looking in the street. Them that asks no questions isn't told a lie, Watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by! Five and twenty ponies, Trotting through the dark-- Brandy for the Parson, 'Baccy for the Clerk; Laces for a lady, letters for a spy, And watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!
Running round the woodlump if you chance to find Little barrels, roped and tarred, all full of brandy-wine, Don't you shout to come and look, nor use 'em for your play. Put the brishwood back again--and they'll be gone next day!
If you see the stable-door setting open wide; If you see a tired horse lying down inside; If your mother mends a coat cut about and tore; If the lining's wet and warm--don't you ask no more!
If you meet King George's men, dressed in blue and red, You be careful what you say, and mindful what is said. If they call you 'pretty maid,' and chuck you 'neath the chin. Don't you tell where no one is, nor yet where no one's been!
Knocks and footsteps round the house--whistles after dark-- You've no call for running out till the house-dogs bark. _Trusty's_ here, and _Pinchers_ here, and see how dumb they lie-- _They_ don't fret to follow when the Gentlemen go by!
If you do as you've been told, 'likely there's a chance, You'll be give a dainty doll, all the way from France, With a cap of Valenciennes, and a velvet hood-- A present from the Gentlemen, along o' being good! Five and twenty ponies, Trotting through the dark-- Brandy for the Parson, 'Baccy for the Clerk. Them that asks no questions isn't told a lie-- Watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!
KING HENRY VII. AND THE SHIPWRIGHTS
(A.D. 1487)
Harry, our King in England, from London town is gone, And comen to Hamull on the Hoke in the countie of Suthampton. For there lay _The Mary of the Tower_, his ship of war so strong, And he would discover, certaynely, if his shipwrights did him wrong.
He told not none of his setting forth, nor yet where he would go (But only my Lord of Arundel), and meanly did he show, In an old jerkin and patched hose that no man might him mark; With his frieze hood and cloak above, he looked like any clerk.
He was at Hamull on the Hoke about the hour of the tide. And saw the _Mary_ haled into dock, the winter to abide, With all her tackle and habiliments which are the King his own; But then ran on his false shipwrights and stripped her to the bone.
They heaved the main-mast overboard, that was of a trusty tree, And they wrote down it was spent and lost by force of weather at sea. But they sawen it into planks and strakes as far as it might go, To maken beds for their own wives and little children also.
There was a knave called Slingawai, he crope beneath the deck. Crying: 'Good felawes, come and see! The ship is nigh a wreck! For the storm that took our tall main-mast, it blew so fierce and fell, Alack! it hath taken the kettles and pans, and this brass pott as well!'
With that he set the pott on his head and hied him up the hatch, While all the shipwrights ran below to find what they might snatch; All except Bob Brygandyne and he was a yeoman good, He caught Slingawai round the waist and threw him on to the mud.
'I have taken plank and rope and nail, without the King his leave, After the custom of Portesmouth, but I will not suffer a thief. Nay, never lift up thy hand at me! There's no clean hands in the trade-- Steal in measure,' quo' Brygandyne. 'There's measure in all things made!'
'Gramercy, yeoman!' said our King. 'Thy council liketh me.' And he pulled a whistle out of his neck and whistled whistles three. Then came my Lord of Arundel pricking across the down, And behind him the Mayor and Burgesses of merry Suthampton town.
They drew the naughty shipwrights up, with the kettles in their hands, And bound them round the forecastle to wait the King's commands. But 'Since ye have made your beds,' said the King, 'ye needs must lie thereon. For the sake of your wives and little ones--felawes, get you gone!'
When they had beaten Slingawai, out of his own lips Our King appointed Brygandyne to be Clerk of all his ships. 'Nay, never lift up thy hands to me--there's no clean hands in the trade. But steal in measure,' said Harry our King. 'There's measure in all things made!'
_God speed the 'Mary of the Tower,' the 'Sovereign,' and 'Grace Dieu,' The 'Sweepstakes' and the 'Mary Fortune,' and the 'Henry of Bristol' too! All tall ships that sail on, the sea, or in our harbours stand, That they may keep measure with Harry our King and peace in Engeland!_
THE WET LITANY
When the water's countenance Blurrs 'twixt glance and second glance; When our tattered smokes forerun. Ashen 'neath a silvered sun; When the curtain of the haze Shuts upon our helpless ways-- Hear the Channel Fleet at sea; _Libera nos Domine!_
When the engines' bated pulse Scarcely thrills the nosing hulls; When the wash along the side Sounds, a sudden, magnified; When the intolerable blast Marks each blindfold minute passed;
When the fog-buoy's squattering flight Guides us through the haggard night; When the warning bugle blows; When the lettered doorways close; When our brittle townships press, Impotent, on emptiness;
When the unseen leadsmen lean Questioning a deep unseen; When their lessened count they tell To a bridge invisible; When the hid and perilous Cliffs return our cry to us;
When the treble thickness spread Swallows up our next-ahead; When her siren's frightened whine Shows her sheering out of line; When, her passage undiscerned, We must turn where she has turned, Hear the Channel Fleet at sea: _Libera nos Domine!_
THE BALLAD OF MINEPIT SHAW
About the time that taverns shut And men can buy no beer, Two lads went up to the keepers' hut To steal Lord Pelham's deer.
Night and the liquor was in their heads-- They laughed and talked no bounds, Till they waked the keepers on their beds, And the keepers loosed the hounds.
They had killed a hart, they had killed a hind, Ready to carry away, When they heard a whimper down the wind And they heard a bloodhound bay.
They took and ran across the fern, Their crossbows in their hand, Till they met a man with a green lantern That called and bade 'em stand.
'What are ye doing, O Flesh and Blood, And what's your foolish will, That you must break into Minepit Wood And wake the Folk of the Hill?'
'Oh, we've broke into Lord Pelham's park, And killed Lord Pelham's deer, And if ever you heard a little dog bark You'll know why we come here.
'We ask you let us go our way, As fast as we can flee, For if ever you heard a bloodhound bay You'll know how pressed we be.'
'Oh, lay your crossbows on the bank And drop the knife from your hand, And though the hounds are at your flank I'll save you where you stand!'
They laid their crossbows on the bank, They threw their knives in the wood, And the ground before them opened and sank And saved 'em where they stood.
'Oh, what's the roaring in our ears That strikes us well-nigh dumb?' 'Oh, that is just how things appears According as they come.'
'What are the stars before our eyes That strike us well-nigh blind?' 'Oh, that is just how things arise According as you find.'
'And why's our bed so hard to the bones Excepting where it's cold?' 'Oh, that's because it is precious stones Excepting where 'tis gold.
'Think it over as you stand. For I tell you without fail, If you haven't got into Fairyland You're not in Lewes Gaol.'
All night long they thought of it, And, come the dawn, they saw They'd tumbled into a great old pit, At the bottom of Minepit Shaw.
And the keepers' hound had followed 'em close, And broke her neck in the fall; So they picked up their knives and their crossbows And buried the dog. That's all.
But whether the man was a poacher too Or a Pharisee[A] so bold-- I reckon there's more things told than are true, And more things true than are told!
[Footnote A: A fairy.]
HERIOT'S FORD
'What's that that hirples at my side?' _The foe that you must fight, my lord._ 'That rides as fast as I can ride?' _The shadow of your might, my lord._
'Then wheel my horse against the foe!' _He's down and overpast, my lord._ _You war against the sunset glow,_ _The judgment follows fast, my lord._
'Oh who will stay the sun's descent?' _King Joshua he is dead, my lord._ 'I need an hour to repent!' _'Tis what our sister said, my lord._
'Oh do not slay me in my sins!' _You're safe awhile with us, my lord._ 'Nay, kill me ere my fear begins.' _We would not serve you thus, my lord._
'Where is the doom that I must face?' _Three little leagues away, my lord._ 'Then mend the horses' laggard pace!' _We need them for next day, my lord._
'Next day--next day! Unloose my cords!' _Our sister needed none, my lord. You had no mind to face our swords, And--where can cowards run, my lord?_
'You would not kill the soul alive?' _'Twas thus our sister cried, my lord._ 'I dare not die with none to shrive.' _But so our sister died, my lord._
'Then wipe the sweat from brow and cheek. _It runnels forth afresh, my lord._ 'Uphold me--for the flesh is weak.' _You've finished with the Flesh, my lord._
FRANKIE'S TRADE
Old Horn to All Atlantic said: _(A-hay O! To me O!')_ 'Now where did Frankie learn his trade? For he ran me down with a three-reef mains'le.' _(All round the Horn!)_
Atlantic answered:--'Not from me! You'd better ask the cold North Sea, For he ran me down under all plain canvas.' _(All round the Horn!)_
The North Sea answered:--'He's my man, For he came to me when he began-- Frankie Drake in an open coaster. _(All round the Sands!)_
'I caught him young and I used him sore, So you never shall startle Frankie more, Without capsizing Earth and her waters. _(All round the Sands!)_
'I did not favour him at all. I made him pull and I made him haul-- And stand his trick with the common sailors. _(All round the Sands!)_
'I froze him stiff and I fogged him blind. And kicked him home with his road to find By what he could see in a three-day snow-storm _(All round the Sands!)_
'I learned him his trade o' winter nights, 'Twixt Mardyk Fort and Dunkirk lights On a five-knot tide with the forts a-firing. _(All round the Sands!)_
'Before his beard began to shoot, I showed him the length of the Spaniard's foot-- And I reckon he clapped the boot on it later. _(All round the Sands!)_
'If there's a risk which you can make. That's worse than he was used to take Nigh every week in the way of his business; _(All round the Sands!)_
'If there's a trick that you can try, Which he hasn't met in time gone by, Not once or twice, but ten times over; _(All round the Sands!)_
'If you can teach him aught that's new, _(A-hay O! To me O!)_ I'll give you Bruges and Niewport too, And the ten tall churches that stand between 'em.' _Storm along my gallant Captains!_ _(All round the Horn!)_
THE JUGGLER'S SONG
When the drums begin to beat Down the street, When the poles are fetched and guyed, When the tight-rope's stretched and tied, When the dance-girls make salaam, When the snake-bag wakes alarm, When the pipes set up their drone, When the sharp-edged knives are thrown, When the red-hot coals are shown, To be swallowed by and bye-- _Arré_ Brethren, here come I!
Stripped to loin-cloth in the sun, Search me well and watch me close! Tell me how my tricks are done-- Tell me how the mango grows? Give a man who is not made To his trade Swords to fling and catch again, Coins to ring and snatch again, Men to harm and cure again. Snakes to charm and lure again-- He'll be hurt by his own blade, By his serpents disobeyed, By his clumsiness bewrayed, By the people laughed to scorn-- So 'tis not with juggler born!
Pinch of dust or withered flower, Chance-flung nut or borrowed staff, Serve his need and shore his power, Bind the spell or loose the laugh!
THORKILD'S SONG
There's no wind along these seas. _Out oars for Stavanger!_ _Forward all for Stavanger!_ So we must wake the white-ash breeze, _Let fall for Stavanger!_ _A long pull for Stavanger!_
Oh, hear the benches creak and strain! _(A long pull for Stavanger!)_ She thinks she smells the Northland rain! _(A long pull for Stavanger!)_
She thinks she smells the Northland snow, And she's as glad as we to go.
She thinks she smells the Northland rime, And the dear dark nights of winter-time.
She wants to be at her own home pier, To shift her sails and standing gear.
She wants to be in her winter-shed. To strip herself and go to bed.
Her very bolts are sick for shore, And we--we want it ten times more!
So all you Gods that love brave men, Send us a three-reef gale again!
Send us a gale, and watch us come, With close-cropped canvas slashing home!
_But_--there's no wind on all these seas, _A long pull for Stavanger!_ So we must wake the white-ash breeze, _A long pull for Stavanger!_
'ANGUTIVAUN TAINA'
Song of the Returning Hunter (Esquimaux).
Our gloves are stiff with the frozen blood, Our furs with the drifted snow, As we come in with the seal--the seal! In from the edge of the floe.
_An jana! Aua! Oha! Haq!_ And the yelping dog-teams go, And the long whips crack, and the men come back, Back from the edge of the floe!
We tracked our seal to his secret place, We heard him scratch below, We made our mark, and we watched beside, Out on the edge of the floe.
We raised our lance when he rose to breathe, We drove it downward--so! And we played him thus, and we killed him thus, Out on the edge of the floe.
Our gloves are glued with the frozen blood, Our eyes with the drifting snow; But we come back to our wives again, Back from the edge of the floe!
_Au jana! Aua! Oha! Haq! And the loaded dog-teams go, And the wives can hear their men come back, Back from the edge of the floe!_
HUNTING-SONG OF THE SEEONEE PACK
As the dawn was breaking the Sambhur belled-- Once, twice and again! And a doe leaped up, and a doe leaped up From the pond in the wood where the wild deer sup. This I, scouting alone, beheld, Once, twice and again!
As the dawn was breaking the Sambhur belled-- Once, twice and again! And a wolf stole back, and a wolf stole back To carry the word to the waiting pack, And we sought and we found and we bayed on his track Once, twice and again!
As the dawn was breaking the Wolf Pack yelled Once, twice and again! Feet in the jungle that leave no mark! Eyes that can see in the dark--the dark! Tongue--give tongue to it! Hark! O hark! Once, twice and again!
SONG OF THE MEN'S SIDE
(Neolithic)
Once we feared The Beast--when he followed us we ran, Ran very fast though we knew It was not right that The Beast should master Man; But what could we Flint-workers do? The Beast only grinned at our spears round his ears-- Grinned at the hammers that we made; But now we will hunt him for the life with the Knife-- And this is the Buyer of the Blade!