By MACMILLAN AND CO.
Typography by J. S. Cushing & Co., Boston, U.S.A.
Presswork by Berwick & Smith, Boston, U.S.A.
Further than ever comet flared or vagrant star-dust swirled,
Sit such as fought and sailed and ruled and loved and made our world.
They sit at wine with the Maidens Nine, and the Gods of the Elder Days—
It is their will to serve or be still as fitteth our Father’s praise.
Or buffet a path through the Pits red wrath when God goes out to war,
Or hang with the reckless Seraphim on the rein of a red-maned star.
For they know of toil and the end of toil—they know God’s Law is plain;
So they whistle the Devil to make them sport who know that sin is vain.
And tells them tales of the Seventh Day—of Edens newly made,
And they rise to their feet as He passes by—gentlemen unafraid.
Gods, for they knew the heart of Men—men, for they stooped to Fame—
Borne on the breath that men call Death, my brother’s spirit came.
Even as he trod that day to God, so walked he from his birth—
In simpleness and gentleness and honour and clean mirth.
And made him place at the banquet board, the Strong Men ranged thereby,
Who had done his work and held his peace and had no fear to die.
Further than rebel comet dared or hiving star-swarm swirled,
Sits he with such as praise our God for that they served his world.
The greater part of the ‘Barrack-Room Ballads,’ as well as ‘Cleared,’ ‘Tomlinson,’ and ‘The English Flag’ have appeared in the ‘National Observer.’ Messrs. Macmillan and Co. have kindly given me permission to reproduce four ballads contributed to their Magazine, and I am indebted to the ‘St. James Gazette’ for a like courtesy in regard to the ballads of the ‘Clampherdown’ and ‘Bolivar,’ and the ‘Imperial Rescript.’ ‘The Rhyme of the Three Captains’ was printed first in the ‘Athenæum.’ I fancy that most of the other verses are new.
|THE BALLAD OF EAST AND WEST|
|Oh East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet,||3|
|THE LAST SUTTEE|
|Udai Chand lay sick to death,||12|
|THE BALLAD OF THE KING’S MERCY|
|Abdhur Rahman, the Durani Chief, of him is the story told,||18|
|THE BALLAD OF THE KING’S JEST|
|When spring-time flushes the desert grass,||25|
|WITH SCINDIA TO DELHI|
|The wreath of banquet overnight lay withered on the neck,||31|
|THE BALLAD OF BOH DA THONE|
|This is the ballad of Boh Da Thone,||40|
|THE LAMENT OF THE BORDER CATTLE THIEF|
|O woe is me for the merry life,||53 |
|THE RHYME OF THE THREE CAPTAINS|
|. . . At the close of a winter day,||56|
|THE BALLAD OF THE ‘CLAMPHERDOWN’|
|It was our war-ship ‘Clampherdown,’||64|
|THE BALLAD OF THE ‘BOLIVAR’|
|Seven men from all the world, back to docks again,||69|
|THE SACRIFICE OF ER-HEB|
|Er-Heb beyond the hills of Ao-Safai,||74|
|Love and Death once ceased their strife,||85|
|THE GIFT OF THE SEA|
|The dead child lay in the shroud,||86|
|EVARRA AND HIS GODS|
|Read here: This is the story of Evarra—man—,||90|
|THE CONUNDRUM OF THE WORKSHOPS|
|When the flush of a new-born sun fell first on Eden’s green and gold,||94|
|THE LEGEND OF EVIL|
|This is the sorrowful story,||98 |
|THE ENGLISH FLAG|
|Winds of the World, give answer? They are whimpering to and fro—,||102|
|Help for a patriot distressed, a spotless spirit hurt,||108|
|AN IMPERIAL RESCRIPT|
|Now this is the tale of the Council the German Kaiser decreed,||116|
|Now Tomlinson gave up the ghost in his house in Berkeley Square,||120|
|‘What are the bugles blowin’ for?’ said Files-on-Parade,||133|
|I went into a public-’ouse to get a pint o’ beer,||136|
|We’ve fought with many men acrost the seas,||140|
|‘Soldier, soldier, come from the wars,’||143|
|Smokin’ my pipe on the mountings, sniffin’ the mornin’ cool,||146|
|I’ve a head like a concertina: I’ve a tongue like a button-stick,||150|
|You may talk o’ gin and beer,||153 |
|Wot makes the soldier’s ’eart to penk, wot makes him to perspire?||157|
|If you’ve ever stole a pheasant-egg be’ind the keeper’s back,||161|
|This ’appened in a battle to a batt’ry of the corps,||165|
|THE WIDOW AT WINDSOR|
|‘Ave you ’eard o’ the Widow at Windsor,||169|
|There was a row in Silver Street that’s near to Dublin Quay,||172|
|THE YOUNG BRITISH SOLDIER|
|When the ’arf-made recruity goes out to the East,||176|
|By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin’ eastward to the sea,||180|
|Troopin’, troopin’, troopin’ to the sea,||184 |
|THE WIDOW’S PARTY|
|‘Where have you been this while away,’||187|
|FORD O’ KABUL RIVER|
|Kabul town’s by Kabul river—,||190|
|To the Legion of the Lost Ones to the Cohort of the Damned,||193|
|We’re marchin’ on relief over Injia’s sunny plains,||196|
|SHILLIN’ A DAY|
|My name is O’Kelly, I’ve heard the revelly,||200|
|There’s a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield,||202|