Songs from Books Part 30

When the water's countenance Blurrs 'twixt glance and second glance; When our tattered smokes forerun.

Ashen 'neath a silvered sun; When the curtain of the haze Shuts upon our helpless ways-- Hear the Channel Fleet at sea; _Libera nos Domine!_

When the engines' bated pulse Scarcely thrills the nosing hulls; When the wash along the side Sounds, a sudden, magnified; When the intolerable blast Marks each blindfold minute pa.s.sed;

When the fog-buoy's squattering flight Guides us through the haggard night; When the warning bugle blows; When the lettered doorways close; When our brittle townships press, Impotent, on emptiness;

When the unseen leadsmen lean Questioning a deep unseen; When their lessened count they tell To a bridge invisible; When the hid and perilous Cliffs return our cry to us;

When the treble thickness spread Swallows up our next-ahead; When her siren's frightened whine Shows her sheering out of line; When, her pa.s.sage undiscerned, We must turn where she has turned, Hear the Channel Fleet at sea: _Libera nos Domine!_

THE BALLAD OF MINEPIT SHAW

About the time that taverns shut And men can buy no beer, Two lads went up to the keepers' hut To steal Lord Pelham's deer.

Night and the liquor was in their heads-- They laughed and talked no bounds, Till they waked the keepers on their beds, And the keepers loosed the hounds.

They had killed a hart, they had killed a hind, Ready to carry away, When they heard a whimper down the wind And they heard a bloodhound bay.

They took and ran across the fern, Their crossbows in their hand, Till they met a man with a green lantern That called and bade 'em stand.

'What are ye doing, O Flesh and Blood, And what's your foolish will, That you must break into Minepit Wood And wake the Folk of the Hill?'

'Oh, we've broke into Lord Pelham's park, And killed Lord Pelham's deer, And if ever you heard a little dog bark You'll know why we come here.

'We ask you let us go our way, As fast as we can flee, For if ever you heard a bloodhound bay You'll know how pressed we be.'

'Oh, lay your crossbows on the bank And drop the knife from your hand, And though the hounds are at your flank I'll save you where you stand!'

They laid their crossbows on the bank, They threw their knives in the wood, And the ground before them opened and sank And saved 'em where they stood.

'Oh, what's the roaring in our ears That strikes us well-nigh dumb?'

'Oh, that is just how things appears According as they come.'

'What are the stars before our eyes That strike us well-nigh blind?'

'Oh, that is just how things arise According as you find.'

'And why's our bed so hard to the bones Excepting where it's cold?'

'Oh, that's because it is precious stones Excepting where 'tis gold.

'Think it over as you stand.

For I tell you without fail, If you haven't got into Fairyland You're not in Lewes Gaol.'

All night long they thought of it, And, come the dawn, they saw They'd tumbled into a great old pit, At the bottom of Minepit Shaw.

And the keepers' hound had followed 'em close, And broke her neck in the fall; So they picked up their knives and their crossbows And buried the dog. That's all.

But whether the man was a poacher too Or a Pharisee[A] so bold-- I reckon there's more things told than are true, And more things true than are told!

[Footnote A: A fairy.]

HERIOT'S FORD

'What's that that hirples at my side?'

_The foe that you must fight, my lord._ 'That rides as fast as I can ride?'

_The shadow of your might, my lord._

'Then wheel my horse against the foe!'

_He's down and overpast, my lord._ _You war against the sunset glow,_ _The judgment follows fast, my lord._

'Oh who will stay the sun's descent?'

_King Joshua he is dead, my lord._ 'I need an hour to repent!'

_'Tis what our sister said, my lord._

'Oh do not slay me in my sins!'

_You're safe awhile with us, my lord._ 'Nay, kill me ere my fear begins.'

_We would not serve you thus, my lord._

'Where is the doom that I must face?'

_Three little leagues away, my lord._ 'Then mend the horses' laggard pace!'

_We need them for next day, my lord._

'Next day--next day! Unloose my cords!'

_Our sister needed none, my lord.

You had no mind to face our swords, And--where can cowards run, my lord?_

'You would not kill the soul alive?'

_'Twas thus our sister cried, my lord._ 'I dare not die with none to shrive.'

_But so our sister died, my lord._

'Then wipe the sweat from brow and cheek.

_It runnels forth afresh, my lord._ 'Uphold me--for the flesh is weak.'

_You've finished with the Flesh, my lord._

FRANKIE'S TRADE

Old Horn to All Atlantic said: _(A-hay O! To me O!')_ 'Now where did Frankie learn his trade?