Songs from Books Part 12

But whether the Eagles obey us, Or we go to the Ravens--alone, I'd sooner be Lalage's lover Than sit on an Emperor's throne!

We've _all_ left Rome for Lalage's sake, etc.

'POOR HONEST MEN'

(A.D. 1800)

Your jar of Virginny Will cost you a guinea Which you reckon too much by five s.h.i.+llings or ten; But light your churchwarden And judge it according, When I've told you the troubles of poor honest men!

From the Capes of the Delaware, As you are well aware, We sail with tobacco for England--but then, Our own British cruisers, They watch us come through, sirs, And they press half a score of us poor honest men!

Or if by quick sailing (Thick weather prevailing) We leave them behind (as we do now and then) We are sure of a gun from Each frigate we run from, Which is often destruction to poor honest men!

Broadsides the Atlantic We tumble short-handed, With shot-holes to plug and new canvas to bend, And off the Azores, Dutch, Dons and Monsieurs Are waiting to terrify poor honest men.

Napoleon's embargo Is laid on all cargo Which comfort or aid to King George may intend; And since roll, twist and leaf, Of all comforts is chief, They try for to steal it from poor honest men!

With no heart for fight, We take refuge in flight But fire as we run, our retreat to defend, Until our stern-chasers Cut up her fore-braces, And she flies up the wind from us poor honest men!

Twix' the Forties and Fifties, South-eastward the drift is, And so, when we think we are making Land's End, Alas! it is Ushant With half the King's Navy, Blockading French ports against poor honest men!

But they may not quit station (Which is our salvation), So swiftly we stand to the Nor'ard again; And finding the tail of A homeward-bound convoy, We slip past the Scillies like poor honest men.

Twix' the Lizard and Dover, We hand our stuff over, Though I may not inform how we do it, nor when.

But a light on each quarter Low down on the water Is well understanded by poor honest men!

Even then we have dangers, From meddlesome strangers, Who spy on our business and are not content To take a smooth answer, Except with a handspike ...

And they say they are murdered by poor honest men!

To be drowned or be shot Is our natural lot, Why should we, moreover, be hanged in the end-- After all our great pains For to dangle in chains As though we were smugglers, not poor honest men?

'WHEN THE GREAT ARK'

When the Great Ark, in Vigo Bay, Rode stately through the half-manned fleet, From every s.h.i.+p about her way She heard the mariners entreat-- 'Before we take the seas again, Let down your boats and send us men!

'We have no lack of victual here With work--G.o.d knows!--enough for all, To hand and reef and watch and steer, Because our present strength is small.

While your three decks are crowded so Your crews can scarcely stand or go.

'In war, your numbers do but raise Confusion and divided will; In storm, the mindless deep obeys Not mult.i.tudes but single skill; In calm, your numbers, closely pressed.

Do breed a mutiny or pest.

'We, even on unchallenged seas, Dare not adventure where we would, But forfeit brave advantages For lack of men to make 'em good; Whereby, to England's double cost.

Honour and profit both are lost!'

PROPHETS AT HOME

Prophets have honour all over the Earth, Except in the village where they were born.

Where such as knew them boys from birth, Nature-ally hold 'em in scorn.

When Prophets are naughty and young and vain, They make a won'erful grievance of it; (You can see by their writings how they complain), But O, 'tis won'erful good for the Prophet!

There's nothing Nineveh Town can give (Nor being swallowed by whales between), Makes up for the place where a man's folk live, Which don't care nothing what he has been.

He might ha' been that, or he might ha' been this, But they love and they hate him for what he is.

JUBAL AND TUBAL CAIN

Jubal sang of the Wrath of G.o.d And the curse of thistle and thorn-- But Tubal got him a pointed rod, And scrabbled the earth for corn.

Old--old as that early mould, Young as the sprouting grain-- Yearly green is the strife between Jubal and Tubal Cain!

Jubal sang of the new-found sea, And the love that its waves divide-- But Tubal hollowed a fallen tree And pa.s.sed to the further side.

Black--black as the hurricane-wrack, Salt as the under-main-- Bitter and cold is the hate they hold-- Jubal and Tubal Cain!

Jubal sang of the golden years When wars and wounds shall cease-- But Tubal fas.h.i.+oned the hand-flung spears And showed his neighbours peace.

New--new as the Nine point Two, Older than Lamech's slain-- Roaring and loud is the feud avowed Twix' Jubal and Tubal Cain!

Jubal sang of the cliffs that bar And the peaks that none may crown-- But Tubal clambered by jut and scar And there he builded a town.

High--high as the snowsheds lie, Low as the culverts drain-- Wherever they be they can never agree-- Jubal and Tubal Cain!

THE VOORTREKKER

The gull shall whistle in his wake, the blind wave break in fire.

He shall fulfil G.o.d's utmost will, unknowing his desire.

And he shall see old planets change and alien stars arise, And give the gale his seaworn sail in shadow of new skies.

Strong l.u.s.t of gear shall drive him forth and hunger arm his hand, To win his food from the desert rude, his pittance from the sand.

His neighbours' smoke shall vex his eyes, their voices break his rest, He shall go forth till south is north sullen and dispossessed.

He shall desire loneliness and his desire shall bring, Hard on his heels, a thousand wheels, a People and a King.

He shall come back on his own track, and by his scarce-cooled camp There shall he meet the roaring street, the derrick and the stamp: There he shall blaze a nation's ways with hatchet and with brand, Till on his last-won wilderness an Empire's outposts stand.