From a Cornish Window Part 7

"Those little new-invented things-- Cups, saddles, crowns, are childish joys, So ribbands are and rings, Which all our happiness destroys.

Nor G.o.d In His abode, Nor saints, nor little boys, Nor Angels made them; only foolish men, Grown mad with custom, on those toys Which more increase their wants to date. . . ."

He found no publisher, and they have been rescued by accident after two hundred years of oblivion. (It appears, nevertheless, that he was a happy man.)

And yet--I repeat--since we respond to it so readily, whether in welcome or in irritation, there must be something in this claim set up for childish simplicity; and I cannot help thinking it fortunate and salutary for us that the Celtic poets have taken to sounding its note so boldly. Whatever else they do, on the conventional ideals of this generation they speak out with an uncompromising and highly disconcerting directness. As I said just now, they are held, if at all, by a long and loose chain to the graven images to which we stand bound arm-to-arm and foot-to-foot. They fly far enough aloof to take a bird's-eye view. What they see they declare with a boldness which is the more impressive for being unconscious. And they declare that they see us tied to stupid material G.o.ds, and wholly blind to ideas.

P.S.--I made bold enough to say in the course of these remarks that Euclid's _Elements_ could hardly be improved by writing them out in ballad metre. A friend, to whom I happened to repeat this a.s.sertion, cast doubt on it and challenged me to prove it. I do so with pleasure in the following--

[In the original text, there is shown a geometrical diagram which consists of two equally sized circles superimposed so that they each intersect the other's centre which points are marked A and B. The outermost points on the two circles in line with AB are marked D and E. The upper point where the two circles intersect is marked C and an equilateral triangle is shown by joining points A, B and C.]

NEW BALLAD OF SIR PATRICK SPENS.

The King sits in Dunfermline toun Drinking the blude-red wine: "O wha will rear me an equilateral triangle Upon a given straight line?"

O up and spake an eldern knight, Sat at the King's right knee-- "Of a' the clerks by Granta side Sir Patrick bears the gree.

"'Tis he was taught by the Tod-huntere Tho' not at the tod-hunting; Yet gif that he be given a line, He'll do as brave a thing."

Our King has written a braid letter To Cambrigge or thereby, And there it found Sir Patrick Spens Evaluating PI.

He hadna warked his quotient A point but barely three, There stepped to him a little foot-page And louted on his knee.

The first word that Sir Patrick read, "_Plus_ x," was a' he said: The neist word that Sir Patrick read, 'Twas "_plus_ expenses paid."

The last word that Sir Patrick read, The tear blinded his e'e: "The pound I most admire is not In Scottish currencie."

Stately stepped he east the wa', And stately stepped he north: He fetched a compa.s.s frae his ha'

And stood beside the Forth,

Then gurly grew the waves o' Forth, And gurlier by-and-by-- "O never yet was sic a storm, Yet it isna sic as I!"

Syne he has crost the Firth o' Forth Until Dunfermline toun; And tho' he came with a kittle wame Fu' low he louted doun.

"A line, a line, a gude straight line, O King, purvey me quick!

And see it be of thilka kind That's neither braid nor thick."

"Nor thick nor braid?" King Jamie said, "I'll eat my gude hat-band If arra line as ye define Be found in our Scotland."

"Tho' there be nane in a' thy rule, It sail be ruled by me;"

And lichtly with his little pencil He's ruled the line A B.

Stately stepped he east the wa', And stately stepped he west; "Ye touch the b.u.t.ton," Sir Patrick said, "And I sall do the rest."

And he has set his compa.s.s foot Untill the centre A, From A to B he's stretched it oot-- "Ye Scottish carles, give way!"

Syne he has moved his compa.s.s foot Untill the centre B, From B to A he's stretched it oot, And drawn it viz-a-vee.

The tane circle was BCD, And A C E the t.i.ther: "I rede ye well," Sir Patrick said, "They interseck ilk ither.

"See here, and where they interseck-- To wit with yon point C-- Ye'll just obsairve that I conneck The twa points A and B.

"And there ye have a little triangle As bonny as e'er was seen; The whilk is not isosceles, Nor yet it is scalene."

"The proof! the proof!" King Jamie cried: "The how and eke the why!"

Sir Patrick laughed within his beard-- "'Tis _ex hypothesi_--

"When I ligg'd in my mither's wame, I learn'd it frae my mither, That things was equal to the same, Was equal ane to t'ither.

"Sith in the circle first I drew The lines B A, B C, Be radii true, I wit to you The baith maun equal be.

"Likewise and in the second circle, Whilk I drew widders.h.i.+ns, It is nae skaith the radii baith, A B, AC, be twins.

"And sith of three a pair agree That ilk suld equal ane, By certes they maun equal be Ilk unto ilk by-lane."

"Now by my faith!" King Jamie saith, "What _plane_ geometrie!

If only Potts had written in Scots, How loocid Potts wad be!"

"Now wow's my life!" said Jamie the King, And the Scots lords said the same, For but it was that envious knicht, Sir Hughie o' the Graeme.

"Flim-flam, flim-flam!" and "Ho indeed?"

Quod Hughie o' the Graeme; "'Tis I could better upon my heid This prabblin prablem-game."

Sir Patrick Spens Was nothing laith When as he heard "flim-flam,"

But syne he's ta'en a silken claith And wiped his diagram.

"Gif my small feat may better'd be, Sir Hew, by thy big head, What I hae done with an A B C Do thou with X Y Z."

Then sairly sairly swore Sir Hew, And loudly laucht the King; But Sir Patrick tuk the pipes and blew, And _played_ that eldritch thing!

He's play'd it reel, he's play'd it jig, And the baith alternative; And he's danced Sir Hew to the a.s.ses' Brigg, That's Proposetion Five.

And there they've met, and there they've fet, Forenenst the a.s.ses' Brigg, And waefu', waefu' was the fate That gar'd them there to ligg.

For there Sir Patrick's slain Sir Hew, And Sir Hew Sir Patrick Spens-- Now was not that a fine to-do For Euclid's Elemen's?

But let us sing Long live the King!

And his foes the Deil attend 'em: For he has gotten his little triangle, _Quod erat faciendum!_

[1] This was written some time before the _entente cordiale_.

MARCH.