Part 2

Fenced by your careful fathers, ringed by your leaden seas, Long did ye wake in quiet and long lie down at ease; Till ye said of Strife, ‘What is it?’ of the Sword, ‘It is far from our ken’; Till ye made a sport of your shrunken hosts and a toy of your armed men. Ye stopped your ears to the warning--ye would neither look nor heed-- Ye set your leisure before their toil and your lusts above their need. Because of your witless learning and your beasts of warren and chase, Ye grudged your sons to their service and your fields for their camping-place. Ye forced them glean in the highways the straw for the bricks they brought; Ye forced them follow in byways the craft that ye never taught. Ye hindered and hampered and crippled; ye thrust out of sight and away Those that would serve you for honour and those that served you for pay. Then were the judgments loosened; then was your shame revealed, At the hands of a little people, few but apt in the field. Yet ye were saved by a remnant (and your land’s long-suffering Star), When your strong men cheered in their millions while your striplings went to the war. Sons of the sheltered city--unmade, unhandled, unmeet-- Ye pushed them raw to the battle as ye picked them raw from the street. And what did ye look they should compass? War-craft learned in a breath, Knowledge unto occasion at the first far view of Death? So! And ye train your horses and the dogs ye feed and prize? How are the beasts more worthy than the souls your sacrifice? But ye said, ‘Their valour shall show them’; but ye said, ‘The end is close.’ And ye sent them comfits and pictures to help them harry your foes, And ye vaunted your fathomless power, and ye flaunted your iron pride, Ere--ye fawned on the Younger Nations for the men who could shoot and ride! Then ye returned to your trinkets; then ye contented your souls With the flannelled fools at the wicket or the muddied oafs at the goals. Given to strong delusion, wholly believing a lie, Ye saw that the land lay fenceless, and ye let the months go by Waiting some easy wonder: hoping some saving sign-- Idle--openly idle--in the lee of the forespent Line. Idle--except for your boasting--and what is your boasting worth If ye grudge a year of service to the lordliest life on earth? Ancient, effortless, ordered, cycle on cycle set, Life so long untroubled, that ye who inherit forget It was not made with the mountains, it is not one with the deep. Men, not gods, devised it. Men, not gods, must keep. Men, not children, servants, or kinsfolk called from afar, But each man born in the Island broke to the matter of war. Soberly and by custom taken and trained for the same; Each man born in the Island entered at youth to the game-- As it were almost cricket, not to be mastered in haste, But after trial and labour, by temperance, living chaste. As it were almost cricket--as it were even your play, Weighed and pondered and worshipped, and practised day and day. So ye shall bide sure-guarded when the restless lightnings wake In the womb of the blotting war-cloud, and the pallid nations quake. So, at the haggard trumpets, instant your soul shall leap Forthright, accoutred, accepting--alert from the wells of sleep. So at the threat ye shall summon--so at the need ye shall send Men, not children or servants, tempered and taught to the end; Cleansed of servile panic, slow to dread or despise, Humble because of knowledge, mighty by sacrifice. But ye say, ‘It will mar our comfort.’ Ye say, ‘It will minish our trade.’ Do ye wait for the spattered shrapnel ere ye learn how a gun is laid? For the low, red glare to southward when the raided coast-towns burn? (Light ye shall have on that lesson, but little time to learn.) Will ye pitch some white pavilion, and lustily even the odds, With nets and hoops and mallets, with rackets and bats and rods? Will the rabbit war with your foemen--the red deer horn them for hire? Your kept cock-pheasant keep you?--he is master of many a shire. Arid, aloof, incurious, unthinking, unthanking, gelt, Will ye loose your schools to flout them till their brow-beat columns melt? Will ye pray them or preach them, or print them, or ballot them back from your shore? Will your workmen issue a mandate to bid them strike no more? Will ye rise and dethrone your rulers? (Because ye were idle both? Pride by insolence chastened? Indolence purged by sloth?) No doubt but ye are the People; who shall make you afraid? Also your gods are many; no doubt but your gods shall aid. Idols of greasy altars built for the body’s ease; Proud little brazen Baals and talking fetishes; Teraphs of sept and party and wise wood-pavement gods-- _These_ shall come down to the battle and snatch you from under the rods? From the gusty, flickering gun-roll with viewless salvoes rent, And the pitted hail of the bullets that tell not whence they were sent. When ye are ringed as with iron, when ye are scourged as with whips, When the meat is yet in your belly, and the boast is yet on your lips; When ye go forth at morning and the noon beholds you broke, Ere ye lie down at even, your remnant, under the yoke.

_No doubt but ye are the People--absolute, strong, and wise; Whatever your heart has desired ye have not withheld from your eyes. On your own heads, in your own hands, the sin and the saving lies!_

THE PEACE OF DIVES [Page 40]

The Word came down to Dives in Torment where he lay: ‘Our World is full of wickedness, My Children maim and slay, ‘And the Saint and Seer and Prophet ‘Can make no better of it ‘Than to sanctify and prophesy and pray.

‘Rise up, rise up, thou Dives, and take again thy gold, ‘And thy women and thy housen as they were to thee of old. ‘It may be grace hath found thee ‘In the furnace where We bound thee, ‘And that thou shalt bring the peace My Son foretold.’

Then merrily rose Dives and leaped from out his fire, And walked abroad with diligence to do the Lord’s desire; And anon the battles ceased, And the captives were released, And Earth had rest from Goshen to Gadire.

The Word came down to Satan that raged and roared alone, ’Mid the shouting of the peoples by the cannon overthrown (But the Prophets, Saints, and Seers Set each other by the ears, For each would claim the marvel as his own):

‘Rise up, rise up, thou Satan, upon the Earth to go, ‘And prove the peace of Dives if it be good or no: ‘For all that he hath planned ‘We deliver to thy hand, ‘As thy skill shall serve to break it or bring low.’

Then mightily rose Satan, and about the Earth he hied, And breathed on Kings in idleness and Princes drunk with pride; But for all the wrong he breathed There was never sword unsheathed, And the fires he lighted flickered out and died.

Then terribly rose Satan, and he darkened Earth afar, Till he came on cunning Dives where the money-changers are; And he saw men pledge their gear For the gold that buys the spear, And the helmet and the habergeon of war.

Yea to Dives came the Persian and the Syrian and the Mede-- And their hearts were nothing altered, nor their cunning nor their greed-- And they pledged their flocks and farms For the king-compelling arms, And Dives lent according to their need.

Then Satan said to Dives:--’Return again with me, ‘Who hast broken His Commandment in the day He set thee free, ‘Who grindest for thy greed, ‘Man’s belly-pinch and need; ‘And the blood of Man to filthy usury!’

Then softly answered Dives where the money-changers sit:-- ‘My refuge is Our Master, O My Master in the Pit; ‘But behold all Earth is laid ‘In the peace which I have made, ‘And behold I wait on thee to trouble it!’

Then angrily turned Satan, and about the Seas he fled, To shake the new-sown peoples with insult, doubt, and dread; But for all the sleight he used There was never squadron loosed, And the brands he flung flew dying and fell dead.

Yet to Dives came Atlantis and the Captains of the West-- And their hates were nothing weakened nor their anger nor unrest-- And they pawned their utmost trade For the dry, decreeing blade; And Dives lent and took of them their best.

Then Satan said to Dives:--’Declare thou by The Name, ‘The secret of thy subtlety that turneth mine to shame. ‘It is known through all the Hells ‘How my peoples mocked my spells, ‘And my faithless Kings denied me ere I came.’

Then answered cunning Dives: ‘Do not gold and hate abide ‘At the heart of every Magic, yea, and senseless fear beside? ‘With gold and fear and hate ‘I have harnessed state to state, ‘And with hate and fear and gold their hates are tied.

‘For hate men seek a weapon, for fear they seek a shield-- ‘Keener blades and broader targes than their frantic neighbours wield-- ‘For gold I arm their hands, ‘And for gold I buy their lands, ‘And for gold I sell their enemies the yield.

‘Their nearest foes may purchase, or their furthest friends may lease, ‘One by one from Ancient Accad to the Islands of the Seas. ‘And their covenants they make ‘For the naked iron’s sake, ‘But I--I trap them armoured into peace.

‘The flocks that Egypt pledged me to Assyria I drave, ‘And Pharaoh hath the increase of the herds that Sargon gave. ‘Not for Ashdod overthrown ‘Will the Kings destroy their own, ‘Or their peoples wake the strife they feign to brave.

‘Is not Calno like Carchemish? For the steeds of their desire ‘They have sold me seven harvests that I sell to Crowning Tyre; ‘And the Tyrian sweeps the plains ‘With a thousand hired wains, ‘And the Cities keep the peace and--share the hire.

‘Hast thou seen the pride of Moab? For the swords about his path, ‘His bond is to Philistia, in half of all he hath. ‘And he dare not draw the sword ‘Till Gaza give the word, ‘And he show release from Askalon and Gath.

‘Wilt thou call again thy peoples, wilt thou craze anew thy Kings? ‘Lo! my lightnings pass before thee, and their whistling servant brings, ‘Ere the drowsy street hath stirred-- ‘Every masked and midnight word, ‘And the nations break their fast upon these things.

‘So I make a jest of Wonder, and a mock of Time and Space, ‘The roofless Seas an hostel, and the Earth a market-place, ‘Where the anxious traders know ‘Each is surety for his foe, ‘And none may thrive without his fellows’ grace.

‘Now this is all my subtlety and this is all my wit, ‘God give thee good enlightenment, My Master in the Pit. ‘But behold all Earth is laid ‘In the peace which I have made, ‘And behold I wait on thee to trouble it!’

SOUTH AFRICA [Page 49]

Lived a woman wonderful, (May the Lord amend her!) Neither simple, kind, nor true, But her Pagan beauty drew Christian gentlemen a few Hotly to attend her.

_Christian gentlemen a few From Berwick unto Dover; For she was South Africa, And she was South Africa, She was our South Africa, Africa all over!_

Half her land was dead with drouth, Half was red with battle; She was fenced with fire and sword, Plague on pestilence outpoured, Locusts on the greening sward And murrain on the cattle!

_True, ah true, and overtrue; That is why we love her! For she is South Africa, And she is South Africa, She is our South Africa, Africa all over!_

Bitter hard her lovers toiled, Scandalous their payment,-- Food forgot on trains derailed; Cattle-dung where fuel failed; Water where the mules had staled; And sackcloth for their raiment!

So she filled their mouths with dust And their bones with fever; Greeted them with cruel lies; Treated them despiteful-wise; Meted them calamities Till they vowed to leave her.

They took ship and they took sail, Raging, from her borders,-- In a little, none the less, They forgat their sore duresse, They forgave her waywardness And returned for orders!

They esteemed her favour more Than a Throne’s foundation. For the glory of her face Bade farewell to breed and race-- Yea, and made their burial-place Altar of a Nation!

Wherefore, being bought by blood, And by blood restorèd To the arms that nearly lost, She, because of all she cost, Stands, a very woman, most Perfect and adorèd!

_On your feet, and let them know This is why we love her! For she is South Africa, She is our South Africa, Is our own South Africa, Africa all over!_

THE SETTLER [Page 53]

Here, where my fresh-turned furrows run, And the deep soil glistens red, I will repair the wrong that was done To the living and the dead. Here, where the senseless bullet fell, And the barren shrapnel burst, I will plant a tree, I will dig a well, Against the heat and the thirst.

Here, in a large and a sunlit land, Where no wrong bites to the bone, I will lay my hand in my neighbour’s hand, And together we will atone For the set folly and the red breach And the black waste of it all, Giving and taking counsel each Over the cattle-kraal.

Here will we join against our foes-- The hailstroke and the storm, And the red and rustling cloud that blows The locust’s mile-deep swarm; Frost and murrain and floods let loose Shall launch us side by side In the holy wars that have no truce ’Twixt seed and harvest tide.

Earth, where we rode to slay or be slain, Our love shall redeem unto life; We will gather and lead to her lips again The waters of ancient strife, From the far and the fiercely guarded streams And the pools where we lay in wait, Till the corn cover our evil dreams And the young corn our hate.

And when we bring old fights to mind, We will not remember the sin-- If there be blood on his head of my kind, Or blood on my head of his kin-- For the ungrazed upland, the untilled lea Cry, and the fields forlorn: ‘The dead must bury their dead, but ye-- Ye serve an host unborn.’

Bless then, our God, the new-yoked plough And the good beasts that draw, And the bread we eat in the sweat of our brow According to Thy Law. After us cometh a multitude-- Prosper the work of our hands, That we may feed with our land’s food The folk of all our lands!

Here, in the waves and the troughs of the plains, Where the healing stillness lies, And the vast, benignant sky restrains And the long days make wise-- Bless to our use the rain and the sun And the blind seed in its bed, That we may repair the wrong that was done To the living and the dead!

SERVICE SONGS [Page 58]

_’Tommy’ you was when it began, But now that it is o’er You shall be called The Service Man ’Enceforward, evermore._

_Batt’ry, brigade, flank, centre, van, Defaulter, Army corps-- From first to last The Service Man ’Enceforward, evermore._

_From ’Alifax to ’Industan, From York to Singapore-- ’Orse, foot, an’ guns, The Service Man ’Enceforward, evermore!_

CHANT-PAGAN [Page 59]

ENGLISH IRREGULAR: ’99–02

Me that ’ave been what I’ve been, Me that ’ave gone where I’ve gone, Me that ’ave seen what I’ve seen-- ’Ow can I ever take on With awful old England again, An’ ’ouses both sides of the street, And ’edges two sides of the lane, And the parson an’ ‘gentry’ between, An’ touchin’ my ’at when we meet-- Me that ’ave been what I’ve been?

Me that ’ave watched ’arf a world ’Eave up all shiny with dew, Kopje on kop to the sun, An’ as soon as the mist let ’em through Our ’elios winkin’ like fun-- Three sides of a ninety-mile square, Over valleys as big as a shire-- _Are ye there? Are ye there? Are ye there?_ An’ then the blind drum of our fire ... An’ I’m rollin’ ’is lawns for the Squire, Me!

Me that ’ave rode through the dark Forty mile often on end, Along the Ma’ollisberg Range, With only the stars for my mark An’ only the night for my friend, An’ things runnin’ off as you pass, An’ things jumpin’ up in the grass, An’ the silence, the shine an’ the size Of the ’igh, inexpressible skies.... I am takin’ some letters almost As much as a mile, to the post, An’ ‘mind you come back with the change!’ Me!

Me that saw Barberton took When we dropped through the clouds on their ’ead, An’ they ’ove the guns over and fled-- Me that was through Di’mond ’Ill, An’ Pieters an’ Springs an’ Belfast-- From Dundee to Vereeniging all! Me that stuck out to the last (An’ five bloomin’ bars on my chest)-- I am doin’ my Sunday-school best, By the ’elp of the Squire an’ his wife (Not to mention the ’ousemaid an’ cook), To come in an’ ’ands up an’ be still, An’ honestly work for my bread, My livin’ in that state of life To which it shall please God to call Me!

Me that ’ave followed my trade In the place where the lightnin’s are made, ’Twixt the Rains and the Sun and the Moon; Me that lay down an’ got up Three years an’ the sky for my roof-- That ’ave ridden my ’unger an’ thirst Six thousand raw mile on the hoof, With the Vaal and the Orange for cup, An’ the Brandwater Basin for dish,-- Oh! it’s ’ard to be’ave as they wish, (Too ’ard, an’ a little too soon), I’ll ’ave to think over it first-- Me!

I will arise an’ get ’ence;-- I will trek South and make sure If it’s only my fancy or not That the sunshine of England is pale, And the breezes of England are stale, An’ there’s somethin’ gone small with the lot; For _I_ know of a sun an’ a wind, An’ some plains and a mountain be’ind, An’ some graves by a barb-wire fence; An’ a Dutchman I’ve fought ’oo might give Me a job were I ever inclined, To look in an’ offsaddle an’ live Where there’s neither a road nor a tree-- But only my Maker an’ me, And I think it will kill me or cure, So I think I will go there an’ see.

M. I. [Page 64]

(MOUNTED INFANTRY OF THE LINE)

I wish my mother could see me now, with a fence-post under my arm, And a knife and a spoon in my putties that I found on a Boer farm, Atop of a sore-backed Argentine, with a thirst that you couldn’t buy. I used to be in the Yorkshires once (Sussex, Lincolns, and Rifles once), Hampshires, Glosters, and Scottish once! (_ad lib._) But now I am M. I.

That is what we are known as--that is the name you must call If you want officers’ servants, pickets an’ ’orse-guards an’ all-- Details for buryin’-parties, company-cooks or supply-- Turn out the chronic Ikonas! Roll up the ----[1] M. I.!

My ’ands are spotty with veldt-sores, my shirt is a button an’ frill, An’ the things I’ve used my bay’nit for would make a tinker ill! An’ I don’t know whose dam’ column I’m in, nor where we’re trekkin’ nor why. I’ve trekked from the Vaal to the Orange once-- From the Vaal to the greasy Pongolo once-- (Or else it was called the Zambesi once)-- For now I am M. I.

That is what we are known as--we are the push you require For outposts all night under freezin’, an’ rear-guard all day under fire. Anything ’ot or unwholesome? Anything dusty or dry? Borrow a bunch of Ikonas! Trot out the ---- M. I.!

Our Sergeant-Major’s a subaltern, our Captain’s a Fusilier-- Our Adjutant’s ‘late of Somebody’s ’Orse,’ an’ a Melbourne auctioneer; But you couldn’t spot us at ’arf a mile from the crackest caval-ry. They used to talk about Lancers once, Hussars, Dragoons, an’ Lancers once, ’Elmets, pistols, an’ carbines once, But now we are M. I.

That is what we are known as--we are the orphans they blame For beggin’ the loan of an ’ead-stall an’ makin’ a mount to the same: ‘Can’t even look at an ’orselines but some one goes bellerin’ ‘Hi! ‘’Ere comes a burglin’ Ikona!’ Footsack you ---- M. I.!

We’re trekkin’ our twenty miles a day an’ bein’ loved by the Dutch, But we don’t hold on by the mane no more, nor lose our stirrups--much; An’ we scout with a senior man in charge where the ’oly white flags fly. We used to think they were friendly once, Didn’t take any precautions once (Once, my ducky, an’ only once!) But now we are M. I.

That is what we are known as--we are the beggars that got Three days ‘to learn equitation,’ an’ six months o’ bloomin’ well trot! Cow-guns, an’ cattle, an’ convoys--an’ Mister De Wet on the fly-- We are the rollin’ Ikonas! We are the ---- M. I.!

The new fat regiments come from home, imaginin’ vain V.C.’s (The same as our talky-fighty men which are often Number Threes[2]), But our words o’ command are ‘Scatter’ an’ ‘Close’ an’ ‘Let your wounded lie.’ We used to rescue ’em noble once,-- Givin’ the range as we raised ’em once, Gettin’ ’em killed as we saved ’em once-- But now we are M. I.

That is what we are known as--we are the lanterns you view After a fight round the kopjes, lookin’ for men that we knew; Whistlin’ an’ callin’ together, ’altin’ to catch the reply:-- ‘’Elp me! O ’elp me, Ikonas!’ This way, the ---- M. I.!

I wish my mother could see me now, a-gatherin’ news on my own, When I ride like a General up to the scrub and ride back like Tod Sloan, Remarkable close to my ’orse’s neck to let the shots go by. We used to fancy it risky once (Called it a reconnaissance once), Under the charge of an orf’cer once, But now we are M. I.

That is what we are known as--that is the song you must say When you want men to be Mausered at one and a penny a day; We are no five-bob colonials--we are the ’omemade supply, Ask for the London Ikonas! Ring up the ---- M. I.!

I wish myself could talk to myself as I left ’im a year ago; I could tell ’im a lot that would save ’im a lot on the things that ’e ought to know! When I think o’ that ignorant barrack-bird, it almost makes me cry. I used to belong in an Army once (Gawd! what a rum little Army once), Red little, dead little Army once! But now I am M. I.!

That is what we are known as--we are the men that have been Over a year at the business, smelt it an’ felt it an’ seen. We ’ave got ’old of the needful--_you_ will be told by and by; Wait till you’ve ’eard the Ikonas, spoke to the old M. I.!

_Mount--march, Ikonas! Stand to your ’orses again! Mop off the frost on the saddles, mop up the miles on the plain. Out go the stars in the dawnin’, up goes our dust to the sky, Walk--trot, Ikonas! Trek jou,[3] the old M. I.!_

[1] Number according to taste and service of audience.

[2] Horse-holders when in action, and therefore generally under cover.

[3] Get ahead.

COLUMNS [Page 72]

(MOBILE COLUMNS OF THE LATER WAR)

Out o’ the wilderness, dusty an’ dry (_Time, an’ ’igh time to be trekkin’ again!_) ’Oo is it ’eads to the Detail Supply? (_A section, a pompom, an’ six ’undred men._)

’Ere comes the clerk with ’is lantern an’ keys (_Time, an’ ’igh time to be trekkin’ again!_) ‘Surplus of everything--draw what you please ‘_For the section, the pompom, an’ six ’undred men_.’

‘What are our orders an’ where do we lay?’ (_Time, an’ ’igh time to be trekkin’ again!_) ‘You came after dark--you will leave before day, ‘_You section, you pompom, an’ six ’undred men!_’