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Archives: Poems

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!

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His Consolation

Alas! Alas! it is a tale so old—
   Alas! Alas! its pain is very new;
   It is a strange, hard thought for me and you—
That warm limbs and strong hearts should ere wax cold,
That ever Life should cease within our eyes,
   And silence for a season fall on each,
   And for a season, Loving ended be.—
Ah! Sweet, what need to follow phantasies
When Love's best fruit lies hard within our reach—
   And nought disturbs immutability—
Trust me—when weak the heart and faint the hand,
And Death, the master, little tarrieth—
Then, through Death's own blow shall we understand,
   How Love is stronger than all earthly Death.

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Haste

So the end came
      In the darkness of night— 
There was no flame,
      There was no light 
To guide us aright.

And I called to her out of the gloom—
      (She was all to me)
      'Flee thou to the sea 
Lest they seek for thee
And hale us twain to the doom.'

And she said 'This is woe 
      Greater than all—
      In the way that we go 
There be many that fall
      And trouble will come to us so'—

But we fled away,
      (Tho' the face of the sea 
 Was covered with spray,
      And the wave rose angrily)
To 'scape from the God of the Seas—
And we twain were ill at ease 

And we came  to  a weedy shore— 
      But when we would have passed
The boat stayed evermore
      In the wrack that held it fast, 
Even as Sin that will last,
      Though many years be o'er. 

So we waited for God on the sea 
      (Silent and hand in hand)
Till there came a wind from the land 
      And the deep was stirred with pain,
And she passed with a sigh from me
Into the mist and the rain—
Yet I pray to the God of the Seas 
      That he give me my Love again, 
      That he bring my spirit ease.
        But I fear me, my prayers are vain.

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Harp Song of the Dane Women

1 
What is a woman that you forsake her, 
And the hearth-fire and the home-acre. 
To go with the old grey Widow-maker?  
2 
She has no house to lay a guest in
But one chill bed for all to rest in, 
That the pale suns and the stray bergs nest in.  
3 
She has no strong white arms to fold you, 
But the ten-times-fingering weed to hold you 
Out on the rocks where the tide has rolled you.  


4 
Yet, when the signs of summer thicken, 
And the ice breaks, and the birch-buds quicken, 
Yearly you turn from our side, and sicken—  
5 
Sicken again for the shouts and the slaughters. 
You steal away to the lapping waters, 
And look at your ship in her winter-quarters.  
6 
You forget our mirth, and talk at the tables, 
The kine in the shed and the horse in the stables 
To pitch her sides and go over her cables.  
7 
Then you drive out where the storm-clouds swallow, 
And the sound of your oar-blades, falling hollow, 
Is all we have left through the months to follow.  
8 
Ah, what is Woman that you forsake her,  
And the hearth-fire and the home-acre,  
To go with the old grey Widow-maker?

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How Breitmann became President on the Bicycle Ticket

(With all apologies to C.G. Leland)

1 
Der Americanische bolitig,
   Mit all dat bolitig means,
Defelops on lines of cleafage
   More mixed ash a pag of peans;
Und a man must follow his barty,
   His knife und his life in his hand,
But dis is how Hans vas Bresident
   Of der whole of Yangee land.
2 
He go to der same old circus,
   He hear der favorite son,
He see der panners flyin',
   For der same old sine Quay non.
Dey safe und betray der gountry
   Not more dan a hoondert dimes,
Till Breitmann capture Ameriga
   Mit dese earth-schoopin' rhymes:
3 
"Verdamt be der minor McKinley, 
   Likewise der Major Reed.
I speak in der name of Schnitzerl,
   Dot make der philosopede. *
De philosopede she killdt him,
   Boot he say pefore he die:
'Dere is more in der vheelin' pizness
   Dan meet der casual eye.
4 
"'Vheel auf: my soul to her Maker!
   Vatch out! For she come again.
Bestrident a batent safety,
   Mit a plue self-oilin' chain;
Und dot vision of fear und vonder,
   In der after-coming night,
Shall guide you to better mansions—
   Und I guess dey are bainted white.
5 
"'I see der feet of a nation
   Dot nefer touch der groundt—
Der legs of die noble madchen
   All wafin' roundt und roundt!
Ten million bells are ringin'—
   Ten million lamps are lit—
Der holy anchels gall me,
   Und Breitmann you are it!
6 
"Der Schnitzerl he is buried,
   Der vision it is gone;
But I see der legs of der madchen,
   Der madchen mit ploomers on—
Dey wafe from der sands of Bortlandt,
   To der Oregonian pines,
Und so I defelop my bolicy
   On strictly picycle lines.
7 
"Oh plind and jolted people.
   Dot faint beneat' your loads
Der foorst-lasd need of our nation
   Is roads—und roads—und roads!
Dey safe more money on haulin'
   Dan efen Grofer can spend:
Und dey are der farmer's banker,
   Und dey are de lofer's friend.
8 
"Dink of our Youth und Peauty,
   In Indian-file dey crawl,
Most full of human longin's
   But hangin' on for a fall!
Make smooth deir path und broader—
   Der girl's peside der man's—
Dis is der only certain way
   Of makin' Amerigans!"
9 
Den Reed, who is shoost beginnin'
   On a bicycle built for—ten,
He feel he haf slipped his pedal,
   Und so he instruct his men.
He can cow der House in her anger,
   He can curb der House in her pride,
Boot vhen he meet mit an avalanche,
   Tom Reed can let her slide.
10 
"Der goot road pring der farmer-man,
   Dot pring der pedder crop,
Dot pring his wife, dot pring die nurse,
   Und die nurse-girl bring der cop;
Und der cop he pring der bier-saloon,
   Dot buys der Legislate—
Und so we gits to der workin'-blant
   Of a Sofereign Gristian State.
11 
"I stand for honest highways,
   By honest labor made,
On State abbrobriations
   Mit Federal grants-in-aid;
Und dot means blenty of gontracts
   Ash a child may oonderstand,
Or, priefly, stealin' und veelin'
   Troo der length und der breadth of der land!"
12 
Dis pankrupt der little McKinley—
   He vas like Napoleon,
He hear der Deutscher's gannon
   Und know dot his shance vas gone—
For in bolitigs ash in poker,
   Der greater surprises der less,
Und "St. Helena und Blazes!"
   Vas McKinley's last address.
13 
"Now dis is my single bromise,
   For I don't abbrove of deals,
Boot—put me into der White House
   Und I lowers der price on vheels;
We moost crush der bloated monopolies,
   Mit all deir accursed gain,
Und, py shings, if dey will not tumble
   We moost vheel in blood to der chain!"
14 
Dot dickle der Western benches,
   Where der winds und der words haf Waite,
Where foorst dey borrow on mortgage
   Und den dey Peffericate;
But der Eastern delegates snicker—
   Dey know how he git der dust—
(Nota Pene—Hans vas nominee
   Of der Central Bicycle Trust.)
15 
"Now—ash to der Silver Question
   Dot so is searchin' our hearts,
I peliefe in der workshop magsim
   Of inderchangeable barts;
Der wheel you haf puy in Boston
   In Denver you can repair—
We moost make it so mit our dollar
   For der best goes aferywhere.
16 
"On alien immicration
   My blatform is simple und soundt—
Shoost help dem into deir saddles
   Und let dem wapple around;
So der Bole und der Finn und der Dago—
   Dey are all of dem crazy to ride—
Bicks oop some points of each oder
   Und der rule of der road peside.
17 
"In der matter of foreign gollisions
   Und indernational jars,
Ardillery cuts der chausees,
   So I don't pelieve in wars;
Und it vould not help our gountry
   At der close of a century run,
To gear der vheels of brogress
   A la guerre of sixty-one.
18 
"On afery oder issue
   Dot man or der Teufel haf frame,
From dariffs to Cuban cake-walks,
   My answer is shoost der same;
We moost not scorch in der cities,
   Nor drafel mitout our light;
We moost go to der left in passin'
   Und in meetin' keep to der right.
19 
"Finale, und in gonclusion
   (I am anxious to meet my end),
I stand for der L. A. W.
   Und all she comprehend;
Which is Law if you go by der spellin',
   Majistic, unbought und clean,
Boot yet, for der weaker brethren
   Mit liddle let-oops petween."
20 
Like a wafe dot exalt der nations
   On der vild Atlantic shweep,
Ven der Dutch are sick in der steerage
   Und deep is callin' to deep.
Mit der roar of a young volcano
   Und a yell dot shplit der heafen,
Dey nominated der Breitmann
   Ash der model for '97!
21 
So Hans he dank dem (et cetera),
   Und pefore der broceedin's close
Der foorst crate national issue
   Was opened under his nose—
For der foorst crate national issue
   Is: "Shendlemans, vhat you dakes?"
Und der meetin' sung "Hail Columbia" 
   Ingludin' all oder makes!


             ________________

            
Herr Schniterl make a ph'losopede,
Von of der pullyest kind;
It vent mitout a vheel in front,
And hadn't none pehind.

*("Schnitzerl's Philosopede."  
The Breitmann Ballads, C.G. Leland) 

             ________________

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Hans Breitmann as an administrator

1 
Hans Breitmann vent to India—
   Dere vasn't no demonsdration—
He bummed along in a B and O 
   To look at de Aryan nation;
But Himmel's face had a shiny smile 
   As if it knowed de thing,
Und liddle shtars coom out und vinked 
   At Breitmann on de ving.
2 
Hans Breitmann went to India— 
   Dey drop him at Bombay—
He hoonted aroun' for de Gofernor, 
   On top of a buggy—shay.
'Darwaza bund', de porter said—
   Der Breitmann speak him fair:—
'Dere vasn't any sooch a man,
   Und if dere vas I'm dere!
3 
I seek a shenuine Deutscher, 
   Dey say he runs dis show,
Und arguin' on a door-mat
   Is dwice so mean ash slow—
Derefore!' He shvore ein juron
   De liddlest dot he knew—
De porter faint mit horror und
   De Breitmann pass through.
4 
He found de crate Herr Gofernor
   In bens and ink geshpilt
Wrop up in adminisdration—
   Likevise in a plazin' kilt.
'Die Färb' sind mir nicht unbekannt— 
   But I guess de green haf ran
Into die red und vhite und plue, 
   Remark de Breitmann.
5 
Dey sat him down on a sofa, 
   Dey gafe him a long cigar,
Vhile de Gofernor dell of troubles 
   Mit bapers in Kathiawar—
Und vhen he haf grasp de inwardness 
   Und lighted another schmoke,
Mit his feet on de fop of de dable 
   'Tvas so de Breitmann shboke:—
6 
'Now bist du Scotch or Deutscher 
   Or bist du both—in shpots,
It's bedder to vork on a brinciple 
   Vhich I'll pring down to dots:
For de more dot brinciple's acted on 
   Und trifen home to de heft,
De less vill you be hong up to dry,
   Und de less vill you get left.
7 
Dere's a certain sort of cussin' 
   Dot bolidicks mostly breeds—
Slanganderin' men by nations
   And drowin' mud on deir creeds;
But dot's legitimate pizness
   For, since de world pegan,
Lager, de girls and de gali
   Ish more dan meat to a man.
8 
He'll shvear at de Pope und Kaiser 
   He'll shvear at his frau, by shings!
Und ven his frau shvears back at him, 
   He'll shvear at afery dings!
Und 'lowin' for human nadure
   De notion's safe und sound,
So long as de man mit grievance 
   Joost sloshes his shvearin' around.
9 
But vhen subjectif cussin' 
   Tevelops a tefinite line
Und begomes objectif libel,
   Fidelicit:—"Schmitt is a schwein!"
De Schmitt dot is called a schwein-pick,
   Howefer his bolidicks lean,
Vill call on de Herr Redakteur'  
   Und say:—"Vot Hell you mean?"
10 
Nun! Oonder your vay of pizness— 
   I put de matter in prief—
A snigglin', snoopin' schwein–blatt 
   Have called your servant a  thief;
Und when you asked for de proofments
   Und found dot dere vasn't none,
Insdeat of bustin' de druckerei  
   You leaf dat schwein–blatt alone.'
11 
De Gofernor look at de ceilin'— 
   De Gofernor look on de floor,
He never vas so behondelt 
   By voman or man pefore.
'Now dere was a custom in Kansas'— 
   Hans schmile a derrible schmile—
'For sublimatin' de kultur 
   Und puttin' a gloss on de style.
12 
Ve passed a simple rulin' 
   To raise de tone of de blace,
Und nailed a gratis copy 
   To every forme und case:— 
"De man dot publishes ardicles  
   Peyont his politishescope
De Viligance Committee 
   Sub-edits ... mit a rope!"
13 
Und dot vas in "bleedin' Kansas",  
   Vhere men are ge–built in de raw—
Und foorst dey empty deir bistol 
   Und den enquire de Law;
But no one was called a horse–thief  
   Mitout a mountain of proof,
For de only case of libel 
   Ve hanged from his office roof.
14 
Gut! Toornin' again to your trouble,  
   Vhich you have so mooch bemessed
De man dot vas tarred in de paper  
   Haf folded his vings in de West,
Und, since dot paper haf shwallowed  
   Its statement hump and paw,
Onless you vass heeled und ready, 
   Vhy Devil und all did you draw.
15 
Potzblitz! and dou art a Deutscher!  
   Herr Gott! and a Baron too!
Mit a lien on de Sherman nation  
   Vhich makes it Reayson–de–blu
Dot you shouldn't be so spread–eagled  
   Und hung by der heels to bleed,
But I guess I haf taught you somedings.

              *               *               *
 
   Here endet de Breitmannleid.

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Half-Ballade of Waterval

When by the labour of my ’ands
  I’ve ’elped to pack a transport tight
With prisoners for foreign lands,
   I ain’t transported with delight.
  I know it’s only just an’ right,
     But yet it somehow sickens me,
For I ’ave learned at Waterval   
     The meanin’ of captivity. 

Be’ind the pegged barb-wire strands,
  Beneath the tall electric light,
We used to walk in bare-’ead bands,
   Explainin’ ’ow we lost our fight;
  An’ that is what they’ll do to-night
     Upon the steamer out at sea,
If I ’ave learned at Waterval
     The meanin’ of captivity. 

They’ll never know the shame that brands—
  Black shame no livin’ down makes white—
The mockin’ from the sentry-stands,
  The women’s laugh, the gaoler’s spite.
  We are too bloomin’-much polite,
     But that is ’ow I’d ’ave us be . . .
Since I ’ave learned at Waterval
     The meanin’ of captivity. 

They’ll get those draggin’ days all right,
  Spent as a foreigner commands,
An’ ’orrors of the locked-up night,
  With ’Ell’s own thinkin’ on their ’ands.
  I’d give the gold o’ twenty Rands
     (If it was mine) to set ’em free
For I ’ave learned at Waterval
     The meanin’ of captivity!

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Hadramauti

1 
 Who knows the heart of the Christian? How does he reason?
 What are his measures and balances? Which is his season
 For laughter, forbearance or bloodshed, and what devils move him
 When he arises to smite us? I do not love him. 
2 
 He invites the derision of strangers—he enters all places.
 Booted, bareheaded he enters. With shouts and embraces
 He asks of us news of the household whom we reckon nameless.
 Certainly Allah created him forty-fold shameless! 
3 
 So it is not in the Desert. One came to me weeping—
 The Avenger of Blood on his track—I took him in keeping.
 Demanding not whom he had slain, I refreshed him, I fed him
 As he were even a brother. But Eblis had bred him. 
4 
 He was the son of an ape, ill at ease in his clothing.
 He talked with his head, hands and feet. I endured him with loathing.
 Whatever his spirit conceived his countenance showed it
 As a frog shows in a mud-puddle. Yet I abode it! 
5 
 I fingered my beard and was dumb, in silence confronting him.
 His soul was too shallow for silence, e’en with Death hunting him.
 I said: “’Tis his weariness speaks,” but, when he had rested,
 He chirped in my face like some sparrow, and, presently, jested! 
6 
 Wherefore slew I that stranger? He brought me dishonour.
 I saddled my mare, Bijli, I set him upon her.
 I gave him rice and goat’s flesh. He bared me to laughter.
 When he was gone from my tent, swift I followed after,
 Taking my sword in my hand. The hot wine had filled him.
 Under the stars he mocked me—therefore I killed him!

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Great-Heart


"The interpreter then called for a
man-servant of his, one Great-Heart."
—Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress.
1 
Concerning brave Captains
   Our age hath made known
For all men to honour,
   One standeth alone,
2 
Of whom, o’er both oceans,
   Both peoples may say:
“Our realm is diminished
   With Great-Heart away.”
3 
In purpose unsparing,
   In action no less,
The labours he praised
   He would seek and profess
4 
Through travail and battle,
   At hazard and pain. . .
And our world is none the braver
   Since Great-Heart was ta’en!
5 
Plain speech with plain folk,
   And plain words for false things,
Plain faith in plain dealing
   ’Twixt neighbours or kings,
6 
He used and he followed,
   However it sped. . . .
Oh, our world is none more honest
   Now Great-Heart is dead!
7 
The heat of his spirit
   Struck warm through all lands;
For he loved such as showed
   ’Emselves men of their hands;
 8 
In love, as in hate,
   Paying home to the last...
But our world is none the kinder
   Now Great-Heart hath passed!
9 
Hard-schooled by long power,
   Yet most humble of mind
Where aught that he was
   Might advantage mankind.
10 
Leal servant, loved master,
   Rare comrade, sure guide.
Oh, our world is none the safer
   Now Great-Heart hath died!
11 
Let those who would handle
   Make sure they can wield
His far-reaching sword
   And his close-guarding shield:
12 
For those who must journey
   Henceforward alone
Have need of stout convoy
   Now Great-Heart is gone.

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Gow’s Watch

 

[This play will be moved to the “Tales” section when I work out how to do it – Editor Nov2024]

 

Act II Scene 2

(the first eight lines are used as a heading to
chapter X of Kim, attributed to “Old Play”)

The Pavilion in the Gardens. Enter FERDINAND and the KING

FERDINAND. Your tiercel’s too long at hack, Sir.
He’s no eyass but a passage-hawk that footed ere we caught him,
Dangerously free o’ the air. ‘Faith were he mine
(As mine’s the glove he binds to for his tirings)
I’d fly him with a make-hawk. He’s in yarak
Plumed to the very point. So manned so—weathered!
Give him the firmament God made him for
And what shall take the air of him?

THE KING. A young wing yet
Bold—overbold on the perch but, think you, Ferdinand,
He can endure the raw skies yonder? Cozen
Advantage out of the teeth of the hurricane?
Choose his own mate against the lammer-geier?
Ride out a night-long tempest, hold his pitch
Between the lightning and the cloud it leaps from,
Never too pressed to kill?

FERDINAND. I’ll answer for him.
Bating all parable, I know the Prince.
There’s a bleak devil in the young, my Lord;
God put it there to save ’em from their elders
And break their father’s heart, but bear them scatheless
Through mire and thorns and blood if need be. Think
What our prime saw! Such glory, such achievements
As now our children, wondering at, examine
Themselves to see if they shall hardly equal.
But what cared we while we wrought the wonders? Nothing!
The rampant deed contented.

THE KING. Little enough. God knows! But afterwards.—
after— Then comes the reckoning. I would save him that.

FERDINAND. Save him dry scars that ache of winternights,
Worn out self-pity and as much of knowledge
As makes old men fear judgment? Then loose him—loose him
A’ God’s name loose him to adventure early!
And trust some random pike, or half-backed horse,
Besides what’s caught in Italy, to save him.

THE KING. I know. I know. And yet. . . . What stirs in the
garden?

Enter GOW and a GARDENER bearing the Prince’s body

FERDINAND. (Gods give me patience!) Gow and a gardener
Bearing some load along in the dusk to the dunghill.
Nay—a dead branch— But as I said, the Prince——

THE KING. They’ve laid it down. Strange they should work
so late.

GOW (setting down the body). Heark, you unsanctified fool
while I set out our story.We found it, this side the North Park
wall which it had climbed to pluck nectarines from the alley.
Heark again! There was a nectarine in its hand when we found it,
and the naughty brick that slippedfrom the coping beneath its foot
and so caused its death, lies now under the wall for the King to see.

THE KING (above). The King to see! Why should he? Who’s
the man?

GOW. That is your tale. Swerve from it by so much as the
breadth of my dagger and here’s your
instant reward. You heard not, saw not, and by the Horns of
ninefold-cuckolded Jupiter you thought
not nor dreamed not anything more or other!

THE KING. Ninefold-cuckolded Jupiter. That’s a rare oath!
Shall we look closer?

FERDINAND. Not yet, my Lord! (I cannot hear him breathe.)

GARDENER. The North Park wall? It was so. Plucking nectarines.
It shall be. But how shall I sayif any ask why our Lady the Queen——

GOW (stabs him). Thus! Hie after the Prince and tell him y’are the
first fruits of his nectarine
tree. Bleed there behind the laurels.

THE KING. Why did Gow buffet the clown? What said he? I’ll
go look.

FERDINAND (above). Save yourself! It is the King!

Enter the KING and FERDINAND to GOW GOW. God save you!
Thiswas the Prince!

THE KING. The Prince! Not a dead branch? (Uncovers the face.)
My flesh
and blood! My son! my son! my son!

FERDINAND (to Gow). I had feared something of this. And that
fool yonder?

GOW. Dead, or as good. He cannot speak.

FERDINAND. Better so.

THE KING. “Loosed to adventure early!” Tell the tale.

GOW. Saddest truth alack! I came upon him not a half hour since,
fallen from the North Parkwall over against the Deerpark side—dead—
dead!—a nectarine in his hand that the dear lad musthave climbed for,
and plucked the very instant, look you, that a brick slipped on the coping.
’Tis there now. So I lifted him, but his neck was as you see—and already
cold.

THE KING. Oh, very cold. But why should he have troubled to climb?
He was free of all the fruit in my garden God knows! . . . What, Gow?

GOW. Surely, God knows!

THE KING. A lad’s trick. But I love him the better for it . . . . True, he’s past
loving . . . .And now we must tell our Queen. What a coil at the day’s end!
She’ll grieve for him. Not as Ishall, Ferdinand, but as youth for youth.
They were much of the same age. Playmate for playmate.
See, he wears her colours. That is the knot she gave him last—last . . . .
Oh God! When was yesterday?

FERDINAND. Come in! Come in, my Lord. There’s a dew falling.

THE KING. He’ll take no harm of it. I’ll follow presently.
He’s all his mother’s now and none of mine—
Her very face on the bride-pillow. Yet I tricked her.
But that was later—and she never guessed.
I do not think he sinned much—he’s too young—
Much the same age as my Queen. God must not judge him
Too hardly for such slips as youth may fall in.
But I’ll entreat that Throne.

(Prays by the body.)

GOW. The Heavens hold up still. Earth opens not and this dew’s
mere water. What shall a man think of it all? (To GARDENER.)
Not dead yet, sirrah? I bade you follow the Prince. Despatch!

GARDENER. Some kind soul pluck out the dagger. Why did you
slay me? I’d done no wrong. I’d ha’ kept it secret till my dying day.
But not now—not now! I’m dying. The Prince fell from the
Queen’s chamber window. I saw it in the nut-alley. He was——

FERDINAND. But what made you in the nut-alley at that hour?

GARDENER. No wrong. No more than another man’s wife. Jocasta
of the still-room. She’d kissed me good-night too; but that’s over with
the rest . . . . I’ve stumbled on the Prince’s beastly loves, and I pay
for all. Let me pass!

GOW. Count it your fortune, honest man. You would have revealed
it to your woman at the next meeting. You fleshmongers are all one
feather. (Plucks out the dagger.) Go in peace and lay your death to
Fortune’s door. He’s sped—thank Fortune!

FERDINAND. Who knows not Fortune, glutted on easy thrones,
Stealing from feasts as rare to coney-catch
Privily in the hedgerows for a clown,
With that same cruel-lustful hand and eye,
Those nails and wedges, that one hammer and lead,
And the very gerb of long-stored lightning loosed.
Yesterday ’gainst some King.

THE KING. I have pursued with prayers where my heart warns
me My soul shall overtake—

Enter the QUEEN THE KING. Look not! Wait till I tell you, dearest. . .
. Air! . . .
“Loosed to adventure early”
. . . I go late. (Dies.)

GOW. So! God hath cut off the Prince in his pleasures. Gow,
to save the King, hath silencedone poor fool who knew how
it befell, and, now the King’s dead, ’needs only that the Queen
shouldkill Gow and all’s safe for her this side o’ the judgment . . . .
Señor Ferdinand, the wind’s easterly. I’m for the road.

FERDINAND. My horse is at the gate. God speed you. Whither?

GOW. To the Duke, if the Queen does not lay hands on me before.
However it goes, I charge you bear witness,Señor Ferdinand,
I served the old King faithfully. To the death, Señor Ferdinand—
to the death!

 

Act Ill Scene 2

(used as a heading for “Mrs Bathurst” – 1904, collected in
Traffics and Discoveries, attributed to “Lyden’s Irenius”)

GOW Had it been your Prince instead of a groom caught in this
noose there’s not an astrologer of the city—

PRINCE Sacked ! Sacked ! We were a city yesterday.

GOW So be it, but I was not governor. Not an astrologer, but
would ha’ sworn he’d foreseen it at the last versary of Venus,
when Vulcan caught her with Mars in the house of stinking
Capricorn. But since ’tis Jack of the Straw that hangs, the
forgetful stars had it not on their tablets.

PRtNCE Another life ! Were there any left to die? How did the
poor fool come by it ?

GOW Simpliciter thus. She that damned him to death knew not t
hat she did it, or would have died ere she had done it. For she loved
him. He that hangs him does so in obedience to the Duke, and
asks no more ‘ Where is the rope ? ‘ The Duke, very exactly he hath
told us, works God’s will, in which holy employ he’s not to be
questioned. We have then left upon this danger, only Jack whose
soul now plucks the left sleeve of Destiny in Hell to overtake why
she clapped him up like a fly on a sunny wall. Whuff ! Soh !

PRINCE Your cloak, Ferdinand. I’ll sleep now,

FERDINAND Sleep, then . . . He too, loved his life ?

GOW. He was born of woman . . . but at the end threw life from
him like your Prince, for a little sleep . . . ‘ Have I any look of a King?’
said he, clanking his chain—’to be so baited on all sides by Fortune,
hat I must e’en die now to live with myself one day longer.’ I left him
railing at Fortune and woman’s love.

FERDINAND Ah, woman’s love !
(Aside) Who knows not Fortune, glutted on easy thrones,
Stealing from feasts as rare to coney catch,
Privily in the hedgerows for a clown
With that same cruel-lustful hand and eye,
Those nails and wedges, that one hammer and lcad,
And the very gcrb of long-stored lightnings loosed
Yesterday ‘gainst some King.

THE KING. I have pursued with prayers where my heart warns me
My soul shall overtake-

Enter the QUEEN

THE KING. Look not! Wait till I tell you, dearest….  Air …

” Loosed to adventure early”   I go late. (Dies)

GOW. So! God hath cut off the Prince in his pleasures. Gow, to save the King, hath silenced one
poor fool who knew how it befell, and, now the King’s dead, ‘needs only that the Queen should kill
Gow and all’s safe for her this side o’ the Judgment…. Senor Ferdinand, the wind’s easterly.
I’m for the road.

FERDINAND. My horse is at the gate. God speed you. hither?

GOW To the Duke, if the Queen does not lay hands on me before. However it goes, I charge you bear
witness Senor Ferdinand, I served the old King faithfully, to the death Senor Ferdinand, to the death.

 

Act IV Scene 4

(follows the story “The Prophet and the
Country” – 1924, in Debits and Credits)

The Head of the Bargi Pass—in snow. GOW and FERDINAND
with their Captains.

GOW (to FERDINAND). The Queen’s host would be delivered me
to-day—but that these Mountain Men have sent battalia to hold the Pass.
They’re shod, helmed and torqued with soft gold. For the rest, naked.
By no argument can I persuade ’em their gilt carcasses against my
bombards avail not. What’s to do, Fox?

FERDINAND. Fatherless folk go furthest. These loud pagans
Are doubly fatherless. Consider; they came
Over the passes, out of all man’s world—
Adullamites, unable to endure
Its ancient pinch and belly-ache—full of revenges
Or wilfully forgetful. The land they found
Was manless—her raw airs uncloven by speech,
Earth without wheel-track, hoof -mark, hearth or ploughshare
Since God created; nor even a cave where men,
When night was a new thing, had hid themselves.

GOW. Excellent. Do I fight them, or let go?

FERDINAND. Unused earth, air and water for their spoil,
And none to make comparison of their deeds.
No unbribed dead to judge, accuse ’em or comfort—
Their present all their future and their past.
What should they know of reason-litters of folk—
New whelped to emptiness?
GOW. Nothing. They bar my path.

FERDINAND. Turn it, then—turn it.
Give them their triumph. They’ll be wiser anon—some
thirty generations hence.

GOW. Amen! I’m no disposed murderer. (To the MOUNTAIN MEN)
Most magnificent Senors! Lords of all Suns, Moons, firmaments—
Sole Architects of Yourselves and this present Universe. Yon
Philosopher in the hairy cloak bids me wait a thousand years,
till ye’ve sorted
you.

THE PRIEST OF THE MOUNTAIN MEN. There are none beside
ourselves to lead the world!

GOW That is common knowledge. I supplicate you, allow us the
head of the Pass, that we may better reach the Queen’s host yonder.
Ye will not? Why?

PRIEST. Because it is our will . There is none other law for all the
earth.

GOW (That a few feet of snow on a nest of rocky mountains’d
have hatched this dream-people!) (To PRIEST) Ye have reason
in nature—all you’ve known of it . . . . But—a thousand vears—I
fear they will not suffice.

THE PRIEST. Go you back! We hold the passes into and out of
the world. Do you defy us?

FERDINAND (to GOW) I warned you. There’s none like them
Heaven. Say it!

GOW Defy your puissance, Senors? Not I. We’ll have our
bombards away, all, by noon; and our poor hosts with them. And
you, Senors, shall have your triumph upon us.

FERDINAND Ah! That touches! Let them shout and blow their horns
half a day and they’ll not think of aught else!

GOW Fall to your riots, then! Senors, ye have won. We’ll leave
you the head of the Pass—for thirty generations. (Loudly) The
mules to the bombards, and away!

FERDINAND Most admirably you spoke to my poor text.

GOW Maybe the better, Fox, because the discourse has drawn
them to the head of the Pass. Meantime, our main body has taken the
lower road, with all the Artillery.

FERDINAND. Had you no bombards here, then?

GOW None, Innocence, at all! None, except your talk and theirs I

 

Act V Scene 3

(follows the story “A Madonna of the
Trenches” – 1924, in Debits and Credits)

(After the Battle. The PRINCESS by the Standard on the Ravelin.
Enter Gow, with the Crown of the Kingdom)

GOW Here’s earnest of the Queen’s submission. This by her last
herald—and in haste.

PRINCESS ‘Twas ours already. Where is the woman?

GOW Fled with her horse. They broke at dawn. Noon has not
struck, and you’re Queen questionless.

PRINCESS By you—through you. How shall I honour you?

GOW Me? But for what?

PRINCESS. For all—all—all—
Since the realm sunk beneath us! Hear him! ‘For what?’
Your body ‘twixt my bosom and her knife,
Your lips on the cup she proffered for my death;
Your one cloak over me, that night in the snows,
We held the Pass at Bargi. Every hour,
New strengths, to this most unbelievable last.
‘Honour him?’ I will honour—will honour you—
‘Tis at your choice.

GOW Child, mine was long ago.

(Enter FERDINAND, as from horse)

But here’s one worthy honour. Welcome, Fox!

FERDINAND And to you, Watchdog. This day clenches all—
we·ve made it and seen it.

GOW Is the city held?

FERDINAND Loyally. Oh, they’re drunk with loyalty yonder.
A virtuous mood . Your bombards helped ’em to it . . .
But here’s my word for you. The Lady Frances—

PRINCESS I left her sick in the city. No harm, I pray.

FERDINAND. Nothing that she called harm. In truth, so little
That (to GOW) I am bidden tell you, she’ll be here
Almost as soon as I.

GOW She says it ?

FERDINAND Writes
This (gives him letter) yester eve… ‘T’was given me by the priest—
He with her in her hour.

GOW So? (Reads) So it is.
She will be here. (To FERDINAND) And all is safe in the city?

FERDINAND As thy long sword and my lean wits can make it.
You’ve naught to stay for. Is it the road again?

GOW Ay. This time, not alone. . . . She will be here?

PRINCESS I am here. You have not looked at me awhile.

GOW The rest is with you, Ferdinand . . . Then free.

PRINCESS And at my service more than ever. I claim—
(Our wars have taught me)—being your Queen, now, claim
You wholly mine.

GOW Then free. . . . She will be here? A little while—

PRINCESS (to FERDINAND) He looks beyond, not at me.

FERDINAND Weariness.
We are not so young as once was. Two days’ fight—
A worthy servitor—to be allowed
Some freedom.

PRINCESS I have offered him all he would.

FERDINAND He takes what he has taken.

(The Spirit of the LADY FRANCES appears to Gow)

GOW Frances!

PRINCESS Distraught!

FERDINAND An old head-blow, maybe. He has dealt in them.

GOW (to the Spirit) What can the Grave against us, O my Heart,
Comfort and light and reason in all things
Visible and invisible—my one God?
Thou that wast I these barren unyoked years
Of triflings now at end! Frances!

PRINCESS She’s old.

FERDINAND. True. By most reckonings old. They must keep other count.

PRINCESS. He kisses his hand to the air!

FERDINAND. His ring, rather, he kisses. Yes—for sure-the ring.

GOW Dear and most dear! And now—those very arms!
(Dies)

PRINCESS Oh, look! He faints. Haste, you! Unhelm him!
Help!

FERDINAND. Needless. No help avails against that poison. He is sped.

PRINCESS. By his own hand? This hour? When I had offered—

FERDINAND. He had made other choice—an old, old choice,
Ne’er swerved from, and now patently sealed in death.

PRINCESS He called on—the Lady Frances, was it? Wherefore?

FERDINAND. Because she was his life. Forgive, my friend—
(covers Gow’s face)
God’s uttermost beyond me in all faith,
Service and passion—that I unveil at last
The secret. (To the PRINCESS) Thought-dreamed you, it was for you
He poured himself—for you resoldered the Crown?
Struck here, held there, amended, broke, built up
His multiplied imaginings for you?

PRINCESS. I thought—I thought he—

FERDINAND. Looked beyond. Her wish
Was the sole Law he knew. She did not choose
Your House should perish. Therefore he bade it stand.
Enough for him when she had breathed a word:
‘Twas his to make it iron, stone, or fire,
Driving our flesh and blood before his ways
As the wind straws. Her one face unregarded
Waiting you with your mantle or your glove—
That is the God whom he is gone to worship.

(Trumpets without. Enter the PRINCE’S Heralds)

And here’s the craft of Kingship begun again.
These from the Prince of Bargi—to whose sword
You owe such help as may, he thinks, be paid.
He’s equal in blood, in fortune more than peer,
Young, most well favoured, with a heart to love—
And two States in the balance. Do you meet him?

PRINCESS. God and my Misery! I have seen Love at last.
What shall content me after?

 

 (this is as far as the story goes ……..)