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Uniform with this volume, by Rudyara Kipling: Barrack-Room Ballads.

Departmental Ditties and other verses ^ ^

RUDYARD KIPLING

NEW YORK : M. F. MANSFIELD 22 EAST SIXTEENTH STREET

Copyright,

1898, M. F. Mansfield & Co.

CONTENTS.

A Ballad of Burial	65
A Code of Morals	12
A Legend of the Foreign Offick	19
Army Headquarters	16
Delilah	28
Departmental Ditties	3
General Summary	5
In Springtime	79
La Nuit Blanche	54
Municipal	44
My Rival	59
Pagett, M.P.	68
Pink Dominoes	37
Possibilities	85
Public Waste	25
Study of an Elevation, in Indian Ink	10
The Bethrothed	88
The Last Department	48
The Lovers' Litany	62
The Man Who Could Write	40
The Mare's Nest	76
The Overland Mail	81
The Post that Fitted	7
The Rupaiyat of Omar Kal'vin	72
The Story of Uriah	23
To the Unknown Goddess	51
What Happened	^2

DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES.

DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 1

I HAVE eaten your bread and salt, I have drunk your water and wine, The deaths ye died I have watched beside, And the lives that ye led were mine.

Was there aught that I did not share

In vigil or toil or ease, — One joy or woe that I did not know.

Dear hearts across the seas ?

I have written the tale of our life For a sheltered people's mirth,

In jesting guise — but ye are wise. And ye know what the jest is worth.

GEIslERAL SUMMARY.

WE are very slightly changed From the semi-apes who ranged India's prehistoric clay ; Whoso drew the longest bow, Ran his brother down, you know. As we run men down to-day.

" Dowb," the first of all his race, Met the Mammoth face to face

On the lake or in the cave. Stole the steadiest canoe, Ate the quarry others slew,

Died — and took the finest grave.

When they scratched the reindeer-bone, Some one made the sketch his own.

Filched it from the artist — then, Even in those early days. Won a simple Viceroy's praise

Through the toil of other men. 5

GENERAL SUMMARY.

Ere they hewed the Sphinx's visage Favoritism governed kissage, Even as it does in this age.

Who shall doubt the secret hid Under Cheops' pyramid Was that the contractor did

Cheops out of several millions ? Or that Joseph's sudden rise To Comptroller of Supplies Was a fraud of monstrous size

On King Pharaoh's swart Civilians ?

Thus, the artless songs I sing Do not deal with anything New or never said before. /As it was in the beginning, I Is to-day official sinning, \ And shall be for evermore.

THE POST THA T FITTED.

Though tangled and twisted the course of true love,

This ditty explains No tangle's so tangled it cannot improve

If the Lover has brains.

ERE the Steamer bore him Eastward, Sleary was engaged to marry An attractive girl at Tunbridge, whom he

called "my little Carrie." Sleary's pay was very modest ; Sleary was

the other way. Who can cook a two-plate dinner on eight paltry dibs a day?

Long he pondered o'er the question in

his scantly furnished quarters — Then proposed to Minnie Boifkin, eldest

of Judge Boffkin's daughters. Certainly an impecunious Subaltern was

not a catch, But the Boffkins knew that Minnie

mightn't make another match. 7

THE POST THA T FITTED.

So they recognized the business, and, to

feed and clothe the bride. Got him made a Something Something

somewhere on the Bombay side. Anyhow, the billet carried pay enough

for him to marry — As the artless Sleary put it: — " Just the

thing for me and Carrie."

Did he, therefore, jilt Miss Boffkin — impulse of a baser mind?

No ! He started epileptic fits of an appal- ling kind.

(Of his modus operandi only this much I could gather: —

** Pears' shaving sticks will give you little taste and lots of lather.")

Frequently in public places his affliction

used to smite Sleary with distressing vigor — always in

the Boffkins' sight.

THE POST THAT FITTED.

Ere a week was over Minnie weepingly returned his ring,

Told him his " unhappy weakness" stop- ped all thought of marrying.

Sleary bore the information with a chas- tened holy joy, —

Epileptic fits don't matter in Political employ, —

Wired three short words to Carrie — took his ticket, packed his kit —

Bade farewell to Minnie Boffkin in one last, long, lingering fit.

Four weeks later, Carrie Sleary read —

and laughed until she wept — Mrs. Boffkins' warning letter on the

"wretched epilept." Year by year, in pious patience, vengeful

Mrs. Boffkin sits Waiting for the Sleary babies to develop

Sleary's fits.

9

STUDY OF AN ELEVATION, IN INDIAN INK.

This ditty is a string of lies.

But — how the deuce did Gubbins rise ?

POTIPHAR GUBBINS, C. E., Stands at the top of the tree ; And I muse in my bed on the reasons that led

To the hoisting of Potiphar G.

Potiphar Gubbins, C. E., Is seven years junior to Me; Each bridge that he makes he either buckles or breaks,

And his work is as rough as he.

Potiphar Gubbins, C. E., Is coarse as a chimpanzee; And I can't understand why you gave him your hand.

Lovely Mehitabel Lee.

STUDY OF AN ELEVATION, IN

INDIAN INK.

Potiphar Gubbins, C. E.,

Is dear to the Powers that Be ;

For They bow and They smile in an affa- ble style

Which is seldom accorded to Me.

Potiphar Gubbins, C. E., Is certain as certain can be Of a highly paid post which is claimed by a host

Of seniors — including Me.

Careless and lazy is he, Greatly inferior to Me. What is the spell that you manage so well, Commonplace Potiphar G. ?

Lovely Mehitabel Lee, Let me inquire of thee, Should I have riz to what Potiphar is, Hadst thou been mated to Me ? II

A CODE OF MORALS.

Lest you should think this story true, I merely mention I Evolved it lately. 'Tis a most Unmitigated misstatement.

NOW Jones had left his new-wed bride to keep his house in order, And hied away to the Hurrum Hills above

the Afghan border, To sit on a rock with a heliograph ; but

ere he left he taught His wife the wording of the Code that sets the miles at naught.

And love had made him very sage, as Nature made her fair;

So Cupid and Apollo linked, per helio- graph, the pair.

At dawn, across the Hurrum Hills, he flashed her counsel wise —

At e'en, the dying sunset bore her hus- band's homilies.

12

A CODE OF MORALS.

He warned her 'gainst seductive youths in scarlet clad and gold,

As much as 'gainst the blandishments pa- ternal of the old;

But kept his gravest warnings for (hereby the ditty hangs)

That snowy-haired Lothario, Lieutenant- General Bangs.

'Twas General Bangs, with Aide and Staff, that tittupped on the way,

When they beheld a heliograph tempes- tuously at play;

They thought of Border risings, and of stations sacked and burnt —

So stopped to take the message down — and this is what they learnt : —

*' Dash dot dot, dot, dot dash, dot dash dot " twice. The General swore.

"Was ever General Officer addressed as ' dear ' before ? 13

A CODE OF MO HALS.

'My Love,' i' faith! 'My Duck,' Gad-

zooks! ' My darling popsy-wop! ' Spirit of great Lord Wolseley, who is on

that mountain top ? "

The artless Aide-de-camp was mute ; the

gilded Staff were still, As, dumb with pent-up mirth, they booked

that message from the hill ; For, clear as summer's lightning flare,

the husband's warning ran : — '* Don't dance or ride with General Bangs

— a most immoral man."

(At dawn, across the Hurrum Hills, he

flashed her counsel wise — But, howsoever Love be blind, the world

at large hath eyes.) With damnatory dot and dash he helio-

graphed his wife Some interesting^ details of the General's

private life.

A CODE OF MORALS.

The artless Aide-de-cama was mute; the shining Staff were still,

And red and ever redder grew the Gen- eral's shaven gill.

And this is what he said at last (his feel- ings matter not) : —

" I think we've tapped a private line. Hi ! Threes about there I Trot ! "

All honor unto Bangs, for ne'er did Jones

thereafter know By word or act official who read off that

helio. ; But the tale is on the Frontier, and from

Michni to Mool/a« They knew the worthy General as "that

most immoral man."

15

ARMY HEADQUARTERS.

Old is the song that I sing —

Old as my unpaid bills — Old as the chicken that kitmutgars bring

Men at dak- bungalows — old as the Hills.

AHASUERUS JENKINS of the "Operatic Own" Was dowered with a tenor voice of super-

Santley tone. His views on equitation were, perhaps, a

trifle queer; He had no seat worth mentioning, but oh ! he had an ear.

He clubbed his wretched company a

dozen times a day, He used to quit his charger in a parabolic

way, His method of saluting was the joy of all

beholders. But Ahasuerus Jenkins had a head upon

his shoulders.

i6

ARM Y HEADQ UAR TERS.

He took two months to Simla when the

year was at the spring, And underneath the deodars eternally

did sing. He warbled like a bulbul, but particularly

at Cornelia Agrippina, who was musical and

fat.

She controlled a humble husband, who in turn controlled a Dept. ,

Where Cornelia Agrippina's human sing- ing birds were kept

From April to October on a plump retain- ing fee,

Supplied, of course, per mensem, by the Indian Treasury.

Cornelia used to sing with him, and Jen- kins used to play;

He praised unblushingly her notes, for he was false as they: 17

ARMY HEADQUAR TERS. ■

So when the winds of April turned the

budding roses brown, Cornelia told her husband: — "Tom, you

mustn't send him down."

They haled him from his regiment, which

didn't much regret him; They found for him an office stool, and

on that stool they set him. To play with maps and catalogues three

idle hours a day. And draw his plump retaining fee — which

means his double pay.

Now, ever after dinner, when the coffee cups are brought,

Ahasuerus waileth o'er the grand piano- forte ;

And, thanks to fair Cornelia, his fame hath waxen great,

And Ahasuerus Jenkins is a power in the State.

i8

A LEGEND OF THE FOREIGN OFFICE.

This is the reason why Rustum Beg,

Rajah of Kolazai, Drjnketh the "simpkin" and brandy peg,

Maketh the money to fly, Vexeth a Government tender and kind. Also — but this is a detail — blind.

RUSTUM BEG of Kolazai— slightly backward native state — Lusted for a C. S. I., — so began to sani- tate. Built a Jail and Hospital — nearly built a

City drain — Till his faithful subjects all thought their ruler was insane.

Strange departures made he then — yea, Departments stranger still,

Half a dozen Englishmen helped the Rajah with a will,

Talked of noble aims and high, hinted of a future fine

19

A LEGEND OF THE FOREIGN' OFFICE.

For the State of Kolazai, on a strictly Western line.

Rajah Rustum held his peace; lowered

octroi dues a half; Organized a State Police; purified the

Civil Staff; Settled cess and tax afresh in a very

liberal way; Cut temptations of the flesh — also cut the

Bukhshi's pay;

Roused his Secretariat to a fine Mahratta

fury, By a Hookum hinting at supervision of

dasturi; Turned the State of Kolazai very nearly

upside down; When the end of May was nigh, waited

his achievement crown. 20

A LEGEND OF THE FOREIGN OFFICE.

Then the Birthday Honors came. Sad to

state and sad to see, Stood against the Rajah's name nothing

more than C. I. E.!

Things were lively for a week in the State

of Kolazai. Even now the people speak of that time

regretfully.

How he disendowed the Jail — stopped at

once the City drain; Turned to beauty fair and frail — got his

senses back again ; Doubled taxes, cesses, all; cleared away

each new-built thana; Turned the two-lakh Hospital into a

superb Zenana;

Heaped upon the Bukhshi Sahib wealth and honors manifold ;

21

A LEGEND OF THE FOREIGN OFFICE.

Clad himself in Eastern garb — squeezed his people as of old.

Happy, happy Kolazai! Never more will Rustum Beg

Play to catch the Viceroy's eye. He pre- fers the "simpkin" peg.

THE STORY OF URIAH.

"Now there were two men in one citj-; the one rich and the other poor."

JACK BARRETT went to Quetta Because they told him to. He left his wife at Simla

On three-fourths his monthly screw: Jack Barrett died at Quetta

Ere the next month's pay he drew.

Jack Barrett went to Quetta.

He didn't understand The reason of his transfer

From the pleasant mountain-land: The season was September,

And it killed him out of hand.

Jack Barrett went to Quetta, And there gave up the ghost,

Attempting two men's duty In that very healthy post;

And Mrs. Barrett mourned for him Five lively months at most. 23

THE STORY OF URIAH. Jack Barrett's bones at Quetta

Enjoy profound repose; But I shouldn't be astonished

If now his spirit knows The reason of his transfer

From the Himalayan snows.

And, when the Last Great Bugle Call

Adown the Hurnai throbs, When the last grim joke is entered

In the big black Book of Jobs, And Quetta graveyards give again

Their victims to the air, I shouldn't like to be the man

Who sent Jack Barrett there.

24

PUBLIC WASTE.

Walpole talks of "a man and his price." ' List to a ditty queer—

The sale of a Deputy-Acting-Vice- Resident-Engineer,

Bought like a bullock, hoof and hide.

By the Little Tin Gods on the Mountain Side.

BY the Laws of the Family Circle 'tis written in letters of brass That only a Colonel from Chatham can

manage the Railways of State, Because of the gold on hisbreeks, and the

subjects wherein he must pass; Because in all matters that deal not with Railways his knowledge is great.

Now Exeter Battleby Tring had labored

from boyhood to eld On the Lines of the East and the West,

and eke of the North and South; Many Lines had he built and surveyed —

important the posts which he held ; And the Lords of the Iron Horse were

dumb when he opened his mouth. 25

PUBLIC WASTE.

Black as the raven his garb, and his her- esies jettier still —

Hinting that Railways required lifetimes of study and knowledge ;

Never clanked sword by his side — Vauban he knew not, nor drill —

Nor was his name on the list of the men who had passed through the "College."

Wherefore the Little Tin Gods harried their little tin souls.

Seeing he came not from Chatham, jing- led no spurs at his heels,

Knowing that, nevertheless, was he first on the Government rolls

For the billet of "Railway Instructor to Little Tin Gods on Wheels."

Letters not seldom they wrote him, " hav- ing the honor to state,"

It would be better for all men if he were laid on the shelf: 26

PUBLIC WASTE.

Much would accrue to his bank book, and

he consented to wait Until the Little Tin Gods built him a

berth for himself.

** Special, well paid, and exempt from the

Law of the Fifty and Five, Even to Ninety and Nine" — these were

the terms of the pact: Thus did the Little Tin Gods (long may

Their Highnesses thrive !) Silence his mouth with rupees, keeping

their Circle intact;

Appointing a Colonel from Chatham who

managed the Bhamo State Line, (The which was one mile and one furlong

— a guaranteed twenty-inch gauge). So Exeter Battleby Tring consented his

claims to resign, And died, on four thousand a month, in

the ninetieth year of his age. 27

DELILAH.

We have anotner Viceroy now, those days are dead

and done, Of Delilah Aberyswith and depraved Ulysses

Gunne.

DELILAH ABERYSWITH was a lady — not too young — With a perfect taste in dresses, and a

badly bitted tongue, With a thirst for information, and a

greater thirst for praise, And a little house in Simla, in the Pre- historic Days.

By reason of her marriage to a gentleman

in power, Delilah was acquainted with the gossip of

the hour; And many little secrets, of a half-official

kind, Were whispered to Delilah, and she bore

them all in mind. 28

DELILAH.

She patronized extensively a man, Ulysses

Gunne, Whose mode of earning money was a low

and shameful one. He wrote for divers papers, which, as

everybody knows. Is worse than serving in a shop or scaring

off the crows.

He praised her "queenly beauty " first;

and, later on, he hinted At the " vastness of her intellect" with

compliments unstinted. He went with her a-riding, and his love

for her was such That he lent her all his horses, and — she

galled them very much.

One day, They brewed a secret of a fine

financial sort; It related to Appointments, to a Man and

a Report.

29

DELILAH.

'Twas almost worth the keeping (only

seven people knew it), And Gunne rose up to seek the truth and

patiently ensue it.

It was a Viceroy's Secret, but — perhaps

the wine was red — Perhaps an aged Councillor had lost his

aged head — Perhaps Delilah's eyes were bright —

Delilah's whispers sweet — The Aged Member told her what 'twere

treason to repeat.

Ulysses went a-riding, and they talked of

love and flowers; Ulysses went a-calling, and he called for

several hours; Ulysses went a-waltzing, and Delilah

helped him dance — Ulysses let the waltzes go, and waited for

his chance.

30

DELILAH.

The summer sun was setting, and the

summer air was still, The couple went a-walking in the shade

of Summer Hill, The wasteful sunset faded out in turkis-

green and gold, Ulysses pleaded softly and . . . that bad

Delilah told !

Next morn a startled Empire learnt the all-important news;

Next week the Aged Councillor was shak- ing in his shoes;

Next month I met Delilah, and she did not show the least

Hesitation in affirming that Ulysses was a "beast."

We have another Viceroy now, those days

are dead and done, Of Delilah Aberyswith and most mean

Ulysses Gunne! 31

WHAT HAPPENED.

HURREE CHUNDER MOOKER- JEE, pride of Bow Bazar, Owner of a native press, ** Barrishter-at-

Lar," Waited on the Government with a claim

to wear Sabres by the bucketful, rifles by the pair.

Then the Indian Government winked a

wicked wink. Said to Chunder Mookerjee: "Stick to

pen and ink. They are safer implements; but, if you

insist, We will let you carry arms wheresoe'er

you list."

Hurree Chunder Mookerjee sought the

gunsmith and

32

/<*•
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WHA T HAPPENED.

Bought the tuber of Lancaster, Ballard,

Dean and Bland, Bought a shiny bowie-knife, bought a

town-made sword. Jingled like a carriage horse when he

went abroad.

But the Indian Government, always keen

to please, Also gave permission to horrid men like

these — Yar Mahommed Yusufzai, down to kill or

steal, Chimbu Singh from Bikaneer, Tantia the

Bhil.

Killar Khan the Marri chief, Jowar Singh

the Sikh, •Nubbee Baksh Punjabi Jat, Abdul Huq

Rafiq— He was a Wahabi; last, little Boh Hla-oo

33

WIIA T HAPPENED. Took advantage of the act — took a Snider too.

They were unenlightened men, Ballard knew them not,

They procured their swords and guns chiefly on the spot.

And the lore of centuries, plus a hundred fights.

Made them slow to disregard one an- other's rights.

With a unanimity dear to patriot hearts All those hairy gentlemen out of foreign

parts Said: " The good old days are back —

let us go to war! " Swaggered down the Grand Trunk Road,

into Bow Bazar.

Nubbee Baksh Punjabi Jat found a hide- bound flail,

34

WHAT HAPPENED. Chimbu Singh from Bikaneer oiled his

Tonk jezail, Yar Mahommed Yusufzai spat and grinned

with glee As he ground the butcher-knife of the

Khyberee.

Jowar Singh the Sikh procured sabre,

quoit, and mace, Abdul Huq, Wahabi, took the dagger

from its place, While amid the jungle-grass danced and

grinned and jabbered Little Boh Hla-oo and cleared the dah-

blade from the scabbard.

What became of Mookerjee ? Soothly,

who can say ? Yar Mahommed only grins in a nasty

way, Jowar Singh is reticent, Chimbu Singh is

mute,

35

WHAT HAPPENED.

But the belts of them all simply bulge with loot.

What became of Ballard's guns ? Afghans black and grubby

Sell them for their silver weight to the men of Pubbi;

And the shiny bowie-knife and the town- made sword are

Hanging in a Marri camp just across the Border,

What became of Mookerjee ? Ask Ma-

hommed Yar Prodding Siva's sacred bull down the

Bow Bazar. Speak to placid Nubbee Baksh — question

land and sea — Ask the Indian Congress men — only don't

ask me!

36

PINK DOMINOES.

•' They are fools who kiss and tell," Wisely has the poet sung. Man may hold all sorts of posts "" If he'll only hold his tongue.

JENNY and Me were engaged, you see, On the eve of the Fancy Ball ; So a kiss or two was nothing to you Or any one else at all.

Jenny would go in a domino —

Pretty and pink but warm ; While I attended, clad in a splendid

Austrian uniform.

Now we had arranged, through notes ex- changed

Early that afternoon, At Number Four to waltz no more,

But to sit in the dusk and spoon.

(I wish you to see that Jenny and Me

Had barely exchanged our troth ; 37

PINK DOMINOES.

So a kiss or two was strictly due By, from, and between us both.)

When Three was over, an eager lover,

I fled to the gloom outside; And a Domino came out also

Whom I took for my future bride.

That is to say, in a casual way, I slipped my arm around her;

With a kiss or two (which is nothing to you), And ready to kiss I found her.

She turned her head and the name she said Was certainly not my own ; But ere I could speak, with a smothered shriek She fled and left me alone.

Then Jenny came, and I saw with shame She'd doffed her domino ;

38

PINK DOMINOES. And I had embraced an alien waist — But I did not tell her so.

Next morn I knew that there were two

Dominoes pink, and one Had cloaked the spouse of Sir Julian Vouse,

Our big political gun.

Sir J. was old, and her hair was gold, And her eye was a blue cerulean ;

And the name she said when she turned her head Was not in the least like "Julian,"

Now wasn't it nice, when want oi pice

Forbade us twain to marry, That old Sir J., in the kindest way,

Made me his Secrefarry ?

39

THE MAN WHO COULD WRITE.

Shun— shun the Bowl ! That fatal . facile drink Has ruined many geese who dipped their quills in't:

Bribe, murder, marry, but steer clear of Ink Save when you write receipts for paid-up bills in't.

There may be silver in the " blue- black " — all

I know of is the iron and the gall.

BOANERGES BLITZEN, servant of the Queen, Is a dismal failure — is a Might-have- been. In a luckless moment he discovered men Rise to high position through a ready pen.

Boanerges Blitzen argued, therefore: "I With the selfsame weapon can attain as

high." Only he did not possess, when he made

the trial, Wicked wit of C-lv-n, irony of L 1.

(Men who spar with Government, need to back their blows, 40

THE MAN WHO COULD WRITE.. Something more than ordinary journaUs- tic prose.)

Never young Civilian's prospects were so- bright,

Till an Indian paper found that he could write :

Never young Civilian's prospects were sa dark,

When the wretched Blitzen wrote ta make his mark.

Certainly he scored it, bold and black and firm,

In that Indian paper — made his seniors squirm.

Quoted office scandals, wrote the tact- less truth —

Was there ever known a more misguided youth ?

When the rag he wrote for, praised his. plucky game,

41

THE MAN WHO COULD WRITE. Boanerges Blitzen felt that this was

Fame: When the men he wrote of, shook their

heads and swore, Boanerges Blitzen only wrote the more.

Posed as Young Ithuriel, resolute and

grim, Till he found promotion didn't come to

him; Till he found that reprimands weekly

were his lot, And his many Districts curiously hot.

Till he found his furlough strangely hard to win,

Boanerges Blitzen didn't care a pin :

Then it seemed to dawn on him some- thing wasn't right —

Boanerges Blitzen put it down to

"spite."

42

THE MAN WHO COULD WRITE. Languished in a District desolate and

dry; Watched the Local Government yearly

pass him by; Wondered where the hitch was; called it

most unfair.

That was seven years ago — and he still is there.

43

MUNICIPAL.

" Why is my District death-rate low ? "

Said Blinks of Hezebad. " Wells, drains, and sewage-outfalls are

My own peculiar fad. I learned a lesson once. It ran Thus," quote that most veracious man :—

IT was an August evening, and, in snowy garments clad, I paid a round of visits in the lines of

Hezebad; When, presently, my Waler saw, and did

not like at all, A Commissariat elephant careering down the Mall.

I couldn't see the driver, and across my mind it rushed

That the Commissariat elephant had sud- denly gone musth,

I didn't care to meet him, and I couldn't well get down,

So I let the Waler have it, and we headed for the town. 44

MUNICIPAL.

The buggy was a new one, and, praise Dykes, it stood the strain,

Till the Waler jumped a bullock just above the City Drain;

And the next that I remember was a hur- ricane of squeals,

And the creature making toothpicks of my five-foot patent wheels.

He seemed to want the owner, so I fled,

distraught with fear, To the Main Drain sewage-outfall while

he snorted in my ear — Reached the four-foot drain-head safely,

and, in darkness and despair. Felt the brute's proboscis fingering my

terror-stiffened hair.

Heard it trumpet on my shoulder — tried to crawl a little higher— 45

MUNICIPAL.

Found the Main Drain sewage-outfall

blocked, some eight feet up, with

mire; And, for twenty reeking minutes. Sir, my

very marrow froze. While the trunk was feeling blindly for a

purchase on my toes!

It missed me by a fraction, but my hair

was turning gray Before they called the drivers up and

dragged the brute away. Then I sought the City Elders, and my

words were very plain. They flushed that four-foot drain-head,

and — it never choked again.

You may hold with surface-drainage, and

the sun-for-garbage cure, Till you've been a periwinkle shrinking

coyly up a sewer. 46

MUNICIPAL.

I believe in well-flushed cuJverts . . .

This is why the death-rate's small ; And, if you don't believe me, get shih- arred yourself. That's all.

47

THE LAST DEPARTMENT.

Twelve hundred million men are spread

About this Earth, and I and You Wonder, when You and I are dead.

What will those luckless millions do.

<^ IV T ONE whole or clean," we cry,

i ^ "or free from stain Of favor." Wait awhile, till we attain The Last Department, where nor fraud nor fools, Nor grade nor greed, shall trouble us again.

Pear, Favor, or Affection — what are these

To the grim Head who claims our ser- vices ? I never knew a wife or interest yet

Delay that pukka step, miscalled "de- cease ; "

When leave, long over-due, none can deny;

48

THE LAST DEPARTMENT. When idleness of all Eternity

Becomes our furlough, and the marigold Our thriftless, bullion-minting Treasury.

Transferred to the Eternal Settlement Each in his strait, wood-scantled office pent, No longer Brown reverses Smith's ap- peals. Or Jones records his Minute of Dissent.

And One, long since a pillar of the Court, As mud between the beams thereof is wrought ; And One who wrote on phosphates for the crops Is subject-matter of his own Report.

(These be the glorious ends whereto we

pass — Let Him who Is, go call on Him who

Was;

49

THE LAST DEPARTMENT.

And He shall see the mallie steals the slab For currie-grinder, and for goats the grass.)

A breath of wind, a Border bullet's

flight, A draught of water, or a horse's fright —

The droning of the fat Sheristadar Ceases, the punkah stops, and falls the night

For you or Me. Do those who live de- cline

The step that offers, or their work resign? Trust me, To-day's Most Indispens- ables.

Five hundred men can take your place or mine.

50

OTHER VERSES.

TO THE UNKNOWN GODDESS.

WILL you conquer my heart with your beauty; my soul going out from afar ? Shall I fall to your hand as a victim of crafty and cautious shikar ?

Have I met you ancj passed you already, unknowing, unthinking and blind ?

Shall I meet you next session at Simla, O sweetest and best of your kind ?

Does the P. and O. bear you to me-ward, or, clad in short frocks in the West,

Are you growing the charms that shall capture and torture the heart in my breast ?

Will you stay in the Plains till September — my passion as warm as the day ?

Will you bring me to book on the Moun- tains, or where the thermantidotes play ?

SI

TO THE UNKNOWN GODDESS.

When the light of your eyes shall make pallid the mean lesser lights I pur- sue,

And the charm of your presence shall lure me from love of the gay " thir- teen-two ; "

When the peg and the pigskin shall please not; when I buy me Calcutta-built clothes;

When I quit the Delight of Wild Asses; forswearing the swearing of oaths ;

As a deer to the hand of the hunter when I turn 'mid the gibes of my friends ;

When the days of my freedom are num- bered, and the life of the bachelor ends.

Ah Goddess! child, spinster, or widow — as of old on Mars Hill when they raised

52

TO THE UNKNOWN GODDESS.

To the God that they knew not an altar

— so I, a young Pagan, have praised

The Goddess I know not nor worship; yet, if half that men tell me be true,

You will come in the future, and there- fore these verses are written to you.

53

LA NUIT BLANCHE.

A MUCH-DISCERNING PubHc hold

The Singer penerally sings Of personal and private things. And prints and sells his past for gold.

Whatever I may here disclaim, The very clever folk I sing to Will most indubitably cling to

Their pet delusion, just the same.

I HAD seen, as dawn was breaking And I staggered to my rest, Tari Devi softly shaking

From the Cart Road to the crest. I had seen the spurs of Jakko

Heave and quiver, swell and sink. Was it Earthquake or tobacco, Day of Doom or Night of Drink ?

In the full, fresh, fragrant morning

I observed a camel crawl, Laws of gravitation scorning.

On the ceiling and the wall; 54

LA NUIT BLANCHE.

Then I watched a fender walking,

And I heard gray leeches sing, And a red-hot monkey talking

Did not seem the proper thing.

Then a Creature, skinned and crimson.

Ran about the floor and cried, And they said I had the " jims " on,

And they dosed me with bromide. And they locked me in my bedroom —

Me and one wee Blood Red Mouse — Though I said: " To give my head room

You had best unroof the house."

But my words were all unheeded.

Though I told the grave M. D. That the treatment really needed

Was a dip in open sea That was lapping just below me,

Smooth as silver, white as snow, And it took three men to throw me

When I found I could not go. 55

LA NUIT BLANCHE.

Half the night I watched the Heavens

Fizz like *8i champagne — Fly to sixes and to sevens,

Wheel and thunder back again ; And when all was peace and order

Save one planet nailed askew, Much I wept because my warder

Would not let me set it true.

After frenzied hours of waiting,

When the Earth and Skies were dumb, Pealed an awful voice dictating

An interminable sum, Changing to a tangled story —

"What she said you said I said " — Till the Moon arose in glory,

And I found her ... in my head;

Then a Face came, blind and weeping. And It couldn't wipe Its eyes.

And It muttered I was keeping

Back the moonlight from the skies ; 56

LA NUIT BLANCHE. So I patted It for pity,

But It whistled shrill with wrath, And a huge black Devil City

Poured its peoples on my path.

So I fled with steps uncertain

On a thousand-year long race, , But the bellying of the curtain

Kept me always in one place; While the tumult rose and maddened

To the roar of Earth on fire, Ere it ebbed and sank and saddened

To a whisper tense as wire.

In intolerable stillness

Rose one little, little star. And it chuckled at my illness,

And it mocked me from afar; And its brethren came and eyed me,

Called the Universe to aid; Till I lay, with naught to hide me,

'Neath the Scorn of All Things Made. 57

LA NUIT BLANCHE.

Dun and saffron, robed and splendid,

Broke the solemn, pitying Day, And I knew my pains were ended,

And I turned and tried to pray; But my speech was shattered wholly,

And I wept as children weep. Till the dawn-wind, softly, slowly

Brought to burning eyelids sleep.

58

MY RIVAL.

I GO to concert, party, ball — What profit is in these? I sit alone against the wall

And strive to look at ease. The incense that is mine by right

They burn before Her shrine; And that's because I'm seventeen And She is forty-nine.

I cannot check my girlish blush,

My color comes and goes; I redden to my finger-tips,

And sometimes to my nose. But She is white where white should be,

And red where red should shine. The blush that flies at seventeen

Is fixed at forty-nine.

I wish / had Her constant cheek :

I wish that I could sing All sorts of funny little songs,

Not quite the proper thing. 59

CM^u-fe^VU^ )

MV RIVAL

I'm very gauche and very shy,

Her jokes aren't in my line; And, worst of all, I'm seventeen

While She is forty-nine.

The young men come, the young men go,

Each pink and white and neat, She's older than their mothers, but

They grovel at Her feet. They walk beside Her 'rickshaw wheels —

None ever walk by mine ; And that's because I'm seventeen

And She is forty-nine.

She rides with half a dozen men,

(She calls them "boys" and "mashers") I trot along the Mall alone ;

My prettiest frocks and sashes Don't help to fill my programme-card,

And vainly I repine From ten to two a.m. Ah me!

Would I were forty-nine ! 60

MY RIVAL.

She calls me "darling," ** pet, " and "dear,"

And "sweet retiring maid." I'm always at the back, I know,

She puts me in the shade. She introduces me to men,

"Cast " lovers, I opine, For sixty takes to seventeen,

Nineteen to forty-nine.

But even She must older grow

And end Her dancing days. She can't go on forever so

At concerts, balls, and plays. One ray of priceless hope I see

Before my footsteps shine : Just think, that She'll be eighty-one

when I am forty-nine.

THE LOVERS' LITANY.

EYES of gray — a sodden quay, Driving rain and falling tears, As the steamer wears to sea In a parting storm of cheers.

Sing, for Faith and Hope are high- None so true as you and I — Sing the Lovers' Litany: — ** Love like ours can never die ! "

Eyes of black — a throbbing keel,

Milky foam to left and right;

Whispered converse near the wheel

In the brilliant tropic night.

Cross that rules the Southern Skyf Stars that sweep and wheel and fly Hear the Lovers' Litany: — " Lo7)e like ours can never die! "

Eyes of brown — a dusty plain Split and parched with heat of June,

63

THE LOVERS LITANY. Flying hoof and tightened rein, Hearts that beat the old, old tune. Side by side the horses fly, Frame we now the old reply Of the Lovers' Litany : — " Love like ours can never die ! "

Eyes of blue — the Simla Hills Silvered with the moonlight hoar; Pleading of the waltz that thrills. Dies and echoes round Benmore. ''MaM," " Officers;' " Good-by,'* Glamour, wine, and witchery — On my soul's sincerity, " Love like ours can never die ! "

Maidens, of your charity, Pity my most luckless state. Four times Cupid's debtor I — Bankrupt in quadruplicate. 63

THE LOVERS' LITANY. Vet, despite this evil case, An a maiden showed me grace, Four-and-forty times would I Sing the Lovers' Litany : — * ' Love like ours can never die / "

64

A BALLAD OF BURIAL.

( "Saint PraxecTs ever was the Church for Peace")

IF down here I chance to die, Solemnly I beg you take All that is left of "I"

To the Hills for old sake's sake. Pack me very thoroughly

In the ice that used to slake Pegs I drank when I was dry — This observe for old sake's sake.

To the railway station hie,

There a single ticket take For Umballa — goods train — I

Shall not mind delay or shake. I shall rest contentedly

Spite of clamor coolies make; Thus in state and dignity

Send me up for old sake's sake.

Next the sleepy Babu wake, Book a Kalka van " for four."

Few, I think, will care to make Journeys with me any more 65

A BALLAD OF BURIAL. As they used to do of yore.

I shall need a "special " break — Thing I never took before — Get me one for old sake's sake.

After that — arrangements make.

No hotel will take me in, And a bullock's back would break

'Neath the teak and leaden skin. Tonga ropes are frail and thin,

Or, did I a back seat take, In a tonga I might spin —

Do your best for old sake's sake.

After that — your work is done.

Recollect a Padre must Mourn the dear departed one —

Throw the ashes and the dust. Don't go down at once. I trust

You will find excuse to "snake Three days' casual on the bust,"

Get your fun for old sake's sake. 66

A BALLAD OF BURIAL.

I could never stand the Plains.

Think of blazing June and May, Think of those September rains

Yearly till the Judgment Day I I should never rest in peace,

I should sweat and lie awake. Rail me, then, on my decease,

To the Hills for old sake's sake.

67

FAGETT, M.P.

The toad beneath the harrow knows Exactly where each tooth- point goes. The butterfly upon the road Preaches contentment to that toad.

PAGETT, M.P., was a liar, and a fluent liar therewith, — He spoke of the heat of India as the

"Asian Solar Myth; " Came on a four months* visit, to "study

the East," in November, And I got him to sign an agreement vow- ing to stay till September.

March came in with the koil. Pagett

was cool and gay, Called me a "bloated Brahmin," talked

of my "princely pay." March went out with the roses. "Where

is your heat? " said he. " Coming," said I to Pagett. " Skittles ! "

said Pagett, M.P. 68

PAGETT, M.P.

April began with the punkah, coolies, and

prickly-heat, — Pagett was dear to mosquitoes, sandflies

found him a treat. He grew speckled and lumpy — hammered,

I grieve to say, Aryan brothers who fanned him, in an

illiberal way.

May set in with a dust-storm, — Pagett

went down with the sun. All the delights of the season tickled him

one by one. Imprimis — ten days' ** liver" — due to his

drinking beer; Later, a dose of fever — slight, but he

called it severe.

Dysent'ry touched him in June, after the

Chota Bursat — Lowered his portly person — made him

yearn to depart. 6g

PAGETT, M.F.

He didn't call me a "Brahmin," or " bloated," or " overpaid,"

But seemed to think it a wonder that any- one stayed.

July was a trifle unhealthy, — Pagett was ill with fear,

Called it the " Cholera Morbus," hinted that life was dear.

He babbled of " Eastern exile," and men- tioned his home with tears;

But I hadn't seen my children for close upon seven years.

We reached a hundred and twenty once

in the Court at noon, (I've mentioned Pagett was portly) Pagett

went off in a swoon. That was an end to the business; Pagett,

the perjured, fled With a practical, working knowledge of

*' Solar Myths" in his head. 70

PAGETT, M.P.

And I laughed as I drove from the station, but the mirth died out on my Hps

As I thought of the fools like Pagett who write of their " Eastern trips,"

And the sneers of the travelled idiots who duly misgovern the land.

And I prayed to the Lord to deliver an- other one into my hand.

71

THE RUrAIYAT OF OMAR KAL VIN.

[Allowing for the difference 'twixt prose and rhymed exaggeration, this ought to reproduce the

sense of what Sir A told the nation some time ago.

when the Government struck from our incomes two per cent.]

NOW the New Year, reviving last Year's Debt, The Thoughtful Fisher casteth wide his Net; So I with begging Dish and ready Tongue Assail all Men for all that I can get.

Imports indeed are gone with all their

Dues — Lo ! Salt a Lever that I dare not use,

Nor may I ask the Tillers in Bengal — Surely my Kith and Kin will not refuse!

Pay — and I promise, by the Dust of Spring,

72

THE RUPAIYAT OF OMAR KAL VIN.

Retrenchment. If my promises can bring Comfort, Ye have Them now a thousand- fold— By Allah! I will promise Anything!

Indeed, indeed, Retrenchment oft before

I swore — but did I mean it when I swore?

And then, and then. We wandered to

the Hills,

And so the Little Less became Much

More.

Whether at Boileaugunge or Babylon, I know not how the wretched Thing is done, The Items of Receipt grow surely small; The Items of Expense mount one by one.

I cannot help it. What have I to do With One and Five, or Four, or Three, or Two ?

73

THE RUPAIYAT OF OMAR KAL VIN. Let Scribes spit Blood and Sulphur as

they please, Or Statemen call me foolish — Heed not

you.

Behold, I promise — Anything You will. Behold, I greet you with an empty Till —

Ah! Fellow-Sinners, of your Charity Seek not the Reason of the Dearth, but fill.

For if I sinned and fell, where lies the Gain

Of Knowledge ? Would it ease you of your Pain To know the tangled Threads of Rev- enue,

I ravel deeper in a hopeless Skein ?

"Who hath not Prudence" — what was it I said,

74

THE RUPAIYAT OF OMAR KAL

VIN.

Of Her who paints Her Eyes and tires Her

Head, And gibes and mocks the People in the

Street, And fawns upon them for Her thriftless

Bread ?

Accursed is She of Eve's daughters — She Hath cast off Prudence, and Her End

shall be Destruction . . . Brethien, of your

Bounty grant Some portion of your daily Bread to Me

75

THE MARE'S NEST.

JANE Austen Beecher Stowe de Rouse Was good beyond all earthly need; But, on the other hand, her spouse

Was very, very bad indeed. He smoked cigars, called churches slow, And raced — but this she did not know.

For Belial Machiavelli kept

The little fact a secret, and, Though o'er his minor sins she wept,

Jane Austen did not understand That Lilly — thirteen-two and bay — Absorbed one-half her husband's pay.

She was so good, she made him worse;

(Some women are like this, I think;) He taught her parrot how to curse,

Her Assam monkey how to drink. He vexed her righteous soul until She went up, and he went down hill. 76

THE MARE'S NEST.

Then came the crisis, strange to say,

Which turned a good wife to a better. A telegraphic peon, one day,

Brought her — now, had it been a letter For Belial Machiavelli, I Know Jane would just have let it lie.

But 'twas a telegram instead,

Marked "urgent," and her duty plain To open it. Jane Austen read : —

"Your Lilly's got a cough again. Can't understand why she is kept At your expense." Jane Austen wept.

It was a misdirected wire.

Her husband was at Shaitanpore. She spread her anger, hot as fire,

Through six thin foreign sheets or more. Sent off that letter, wrote another To her solicitor — and mother. 77

THE MARE'S NEST. Then Belial Machiavelli saw

Her error and, I trust, his own, Wired to the minion of the Law,

And travelled wifeward — not alone. For Lilly — thirteen-two and bay — Came in a horse-box all the way.

There was a scene — a weep or two— With many kisses. Austen Jane

Rode Lilly all the season through. And never opened wires again.

She races now with Belial. This

Is very sad, but so it is.

78

IN SPRINGTIME.

MY garden blazes brightly with the rose-bush and the peach, And the koil sings above it, in the siris by the well, From the creeper-covered trellis comes the squirrel's chattering speech, And the blue-jay screams and flutters where the cheery sat-bhai dwell. But the rose has lost its fragrance, and the koiVs note is strange; I am sick of endless sunshine, sick of blossom-burdened bough. Give me back the leafless woodlands where the winds of Springtime range — Give me back one day in England, for it's Spring in England now!

Through the pines the gusts are booming, o'er the brown fields blowing chill,

79

IN SPRINGTIME.

From the furrow of the ploughshare streams the fragrance of the loam, And the hawk nests on the cliff-side and the jackdaw in the hill, And my heart is back in England mid the sights and sounds of Home. But the garland of the sacrifice this wealth of rose and peach is; Ah ! koil, little kbil^ singing on the siris bough, In my ears the knell of exile your cease- less bell-like speech is — QdSi you tell me aught of England or of Spring in England now?

80

THE OVERLAND MAIL.

(^Foot-Service to the Hills.)

IN the name of the Empress of India, make way, O Lords of the Jungle, wherever you roam. The woods are astir at the close of the day — We exiles are waiting for letters from Home. Let the robber retreat — let the tiger turn

tail — In the Name of the Empress, the Over- land Mail!

With a jingle of bells as the dusk gathers in, He turns to the foot-path that heads up the hill — The bags on his back and a cloth round his chin,

8i

THE OVERLAND MAIL. And, tucked in his waist-belt, the Post

Office bill:— " Despatched on this date, as received by

the rail, Per runner, two bags of the Overland

Mail."

Is the torrent in spate ? He must ford it or swim. Has the rain wrecked the road ? He must climb by the cliff.

Does the tempest cry **Halt"? What are tempests to him ? The Service admits not a "but" or an "if."

While the breath's in his mouth, he must bear without fail,

In the Name of the Empress, the Over- land Mail.

From aloe to rose-oak, from rose-oak to fir.

82

THE OVERLAND MAIL. From level to upland, from upland to crest,

From rice-field to rock-ridge, from rock- ridge to spur. Fly the soft sandalled feet, strains the brawny brown chest.

From rail to ravine — to the peak from the vale —

Up, up through the night goes the Over- land Mail.

There's a speck on the hillside, a dot on the road — A jingle of bells on the foot-path below — There's a scuffle above in the monkey's abode — The world is awake, and the clouds are aglow.

83

THE OVERLAND MAIL.

For the great Sun himself must attend to the hail: —

" In the name of the Empress, the Over- land Mail ! "

84

POSSIBILITIES.

A Y, lay him 'neath the Simla pine — ■**■ A fortnight fully to be missed,

Behold, we lose our fourth at whist, A chair is vacant where we dine.

His place forgets him; other men

Have bought his ponies, guns and traps. His fortune is the Great Perhaps

And that cool rest-house down the glen,

Whence he shall hear, as spirits may, Our mundane revel on the height. Shall watch each flashing 'rkkshaw- light

Sweep on to dinner, dance and play.

Benmore shall woo him to the ball

With lighted rooms and braying band, And he shall hear and understand

*^Dream Faces" better than us all, 85

POSSIBILITIES.

For, think you, as the vapors flee Across Sanjaolie after rain, His soul may climb the hill again

To each old field of victory.

Unseen, who women held so dear,

The strong man's yearning to his

kind Shall shake at most the window-blind.

Or dull awhile the card-room's cheer.

In his own place of power unknown, His Light o' Love another's flame, His dearest pony galloped lame,

And he an alien and alone.

Yet may he meet with many a friend — Shrewd shadows, lingering long un- seen Among us when ^^ God save the Queen " Shows even " extras" have an end. 86

POSSIBILITIES.

And, when we leave the heated room, And, when at four the lights expire. The crew shall gather round the fire

And mock our laughter in the gloom.

Talk as we talked, and they ere death- First wanly, dance in ghostly wise. With ghosts of tunes for melodies,

And vanish at the morning's breath.

87

THE BETROTHED.

" You must choose between me and your cipar."

OPEN the old cigar-box, get me a Cuba stout, For things are running crossways, and Maggie and I are out.

We quarrelled about Havanas — we fought

o'er a good cheroot, And I know she isexacting,and she says I

am a brute.

Open the old cigar-box — let me consider

a space ; In the soft blue veil of the vapor, musing

on Maggie's face.

Maggie is pretty to look at — Maggie's a

loving lass. But the prettiest cheeks must wrinkle

the truest of loves must pass. 88

THE BETROTHED.

There's peace in a Laranaga, there's calm

in a Henry Clay, But the best cigar in an hour is finished

and thrown away —

Thrown away for another as perfect and

ripe and brown — But I could not throw away Maggie for

fear o' the talk o' the town !

Maggie, my wife at fifty — gray and dour

and old — With never another Maggie to purchase

for love or gold !

And the light of Days that have Been, the dark of the Days that Are,

And Love's torch stinking and stale, like the butt of a dead cigar —

The butt of a dead cigar you are bound to keep in your pocket — 89

THE BETROTHED. With never a new one to light tho' it's charred and black to the socket.

Open the old cigar-box — let me consider

a while — Here is a mild Manilla — there is a wifely

smile.

Which is the better portion — bondage

bought with a ring, Or a harem of dusky beauties fifty tied in

a string ?

Counsellors cunning and silent — com- forters true and trie.

And never a one of the fifty to sneer at a rival bride.

Thought in the early morning, solace in

time of woes, Peace in the hush of the twilight, balm

ere my eyelids close. 90

THE BETROTHED.

This will the fifty give me, asking nought

in return, With only a Suttee's passion — to do their

duty and burn.

This will the fifty give me. When they are spent and dead,

Five times other fifties shall be my ser- vants instead.

The furrows of far-off Java, the isles of

the Spanish Main, When they hear my harem is empty, will

send me my brides again.

I will take no heed to their raiment, nor food for their mouth withal.

So long as the gulls are nesting, so long as the showers fall.

I will scent 'em with best vanilla, with tea will I temper their hides, 91

THE BETROTHED.

And the Moor and the Mormon shall envy who read of the tale of my brides.

For Maggie has written a letter to give

me my choice between The wee little whimpering Love and the

great god Nick o' Teen.

And I have been servant of Love for barely a twelvemonth clear,

But I have been Priest of Partagas a matter of seven year;

And the gloom of my bachelor days is flecked with the cheery light

Of stumps that I burned to Friendship and Pleasure and Work and Fight.

And I turn my eyes to the future that

Maggie and I must prove, But the only light on the marshes is the

Will-o'-the-Wisp of Love. 92

THE BETROTHED.

Will it see me safe through my journey, or leave me bogged in the mire?

Since a puff of tobacco can cloud it, shall I follow the fitful fire?

Open the old cigar-box — let me consider

anew — Old friends, and who is Maggie that I

should abandon you ?

A million surplus Maggies are willing to

bear the yoke; And a woman is only a woman, but a

good cigar is a Smoke.

Light me another Cuba; I hold to my

first-sworn vows. If Maggie will have no rival, I'll have no

Maggie for spouse !

93

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