ld songs turn up again, But kep' it quiet--same as you! They knew 'e stole; 'e knew they knowed. They didn't tell, nor make a fuss, But winked at 'Omer down the road, An 'e winked back--the same as us! The Ladies I've taken my fun where I've found it; I've rogued an' I've ranged in my time; I've 'ad my pickin' o' sweet'earts, An' four o' the lot was prime. One was an 'arf-caste widow, One was a woman at Prome, One was the wife of a jemadar-sais,[(] An' one is a girl at 'ome. Now I aren't no 'and with the ladies, For, takin 'em all along, You never can say till you ve tried 'em, An then you are like to be wrong. There's times when you'll think that you mightn't, There's times when you'll know that you might; But the things you will learn from the Yellow an' Brown, They'll 'elp you an 'eap with the White! I was a young un at 'Oogli, Shy as a girl to begin; Aggie de Castrer she made me, An' Aggie was clever as sin; Older than me, but my first un-- More like a mother she were-- Showed me the way to promotion an' pay, An' I learned about women from 'er. Then I was ordered to Burma, Actin' in charge o' Bazar, An' I got me a tiddy live 'eathen Through buyin' supplies off 'er pa. Funny an' yellow an' faithful-- Doll in a teacup she were, But we lived on the square, like a true-married pair, An' I learned about women from 'er. Then we was shifted to Neemuch (Or I might ha' been keepin' 'er now), An' I took with a shiny she-devil, The wife of a nigger at Mhow; 'Taught me the gipsy-folks' bolee;[(] Kind o' volcano she were, For she knifed me one night 'cause I wished she was white, And I learned about women from 'er. Then I come 'ome in the trooper, 'Long of a kid o' sixteen-- Girl from a convent at Meerut, The straightest I ever 'ave seen. Love at first sight was 'er trouble, She didn't know what it were; An' I wouldn't do such, 'cause I liked 'er too much, But--I learned about women from 'er! I've taken my fun where I've found it, An' now I must pay for my fun, For the more you 'ave known o' the others The less will you settle to one; An' the end of it's sittin' and thinkin', An' dreamin' Hell-fires to see; So be warned by my lot (which I know you will not), An' learn about women from me! What did the colonel's lady think? Nobody never knew. Somebody asked the sergeant's wife, An' she told 'em true. When you get to a man in the case, They're like as a row of pins-- For the colonel's lady an' Judy O'Grady Are sisters under their skins! The Sergeant's Weddin' 'E was warned agin 'er-- That's what made 'im look; She was warned agin 'im-- That is why she took. 'Wouldn't 'ear no reason, 'Went an' done it blind; We know all about 'em, They've got all to find! Cheer for the Sergeant's weddin'-- Give 'em one cheer more! Cray gun-'orses in the lando, An' a rogue is married to, etc. What's the use o' tellin' 'Arf the lot she's been? 'E's a bloomin' robber, An' 'e keeps canteen. 'Ow did 'e get 'is buggy? Gawd, you needn't ask! Made 'is forty gallon Out of every cask! Watch 'im, with 'is 'air cut, Count us filin' by-- Won't the Colonel praise 'is Pop--u--lar---i--ty! We 'ave scores to settle-- Scores for more than beer; She's the girl to pay 'em-- That is why we're 'ere! See the chaplain thinkin'? See the women smile? Twig the married winkin' As they take the aisle? Keep your side-arms quiet, Dressin' by the Band. Ho! You 'oly beggars, Cough be'ind your 'and! Now it's done an' over, 'Ear the organ squeak, "Voice that breathed o'er Eden"-- Ain't she got the cheek! White an' laylock ribbons, Think yourself so fine! I'd pray Gawd to take yer 'Fore I made yer mine! Escort to the kerridge, Wish 'im luck, the brute! Chuck the slippers after-- [Pity 'taint a boot!] Bowin' like a lady, Blushin' like a lad-- 'Oo would say to see 'em-- Both are rotten bad! Cheer for the Sergeant's weddin'- Give 'em one cheer more! Gray gun-'orses in the lando, An' a rogue is married to, etc. The 'Eathen The 'eathen in 'is blindness bows down to wood an' stone; 'E don't obey no orders unless they is 'is own; 'E keeps 'is side-arms awful: 'e leaves 'em all about, An' then comes up the regiment an' pokes the 'eathen out. All along o' dirtiness, all along o' mess, All along o' doin things rather-more-or-less, All along of abby-nay,[(] kul,[(] and hazar-ho,[(] Mind you keep your rifle an yourself jus' so! The young recruit is 'aughty--'e draf's from Gawd knows where; They bid 'im show 'is stockin's an' lay 'is mattress square; 'E calls it bloomin' nonsense--'e doesn't know, no more-- An' then up comes 'is company an' kicks 'em round the floor! The young recruit is 'ammered--'e takes it very 'ard; 'E 'angs 'is 'ead an' mutters--'e sulks about the yard; 'E talks o' "cruel tyrants" 'e'll swing for by-an'-bye, An' the others 'ears an' mocks 'im, an' the boy goes orf to cry. The young recruit is silly--'e thinks o' suicide; 'E's lost 'is gutter-devil; 'e 'asn't got 'is pride; But day by day they kicks 'im, which 'elps 'im on a bit, Till 'e finds 'isself one mornin' with a full an' proper kit. Gettin clear o' dirtiness, gettin done with mess, Gettin shut o' doin things rather-more-or-less; Not so fond of abby-nay, kul, nor bazar-ho, Learns to keep 'is rifle an 'isself jus' so! The young recruit is 'appy--'e throws a chest to suit; You see 'im grow mustaches; you 'ear 'im slap 'is boot; 'E learns to drop the "bloodies" from every word he slings, An' 'e shows an 'ealthy brisket when 'e strips for bars an' rings. The cruel tyrant sergeants they watch 'im 'art a year; They watch 'im with 'is comrades, they watch 'im with 'is beer; They watch 'im with the women, at the regimental dance, And the cruel tyrant sergeants send 'is name along for "Lance." An' now 'e's 'arf o' nothin', an' all a private yet, 'Is room they up an' rags 'im to see what they will get; They rags 'im low an' cunnin', each dirty trick they can, But 'e learns to sweat 'is temper an' 'e learns to know 'is man. An', last, a Colour-Sergeant, as such to be obeyed, 'E leads 'is men at cricket, 'e leads 'em on parade; They sees 'em quick an' 'andy, uncommon set an' smart, An' so 'e talks to orficers which 'ave the Core at 'eart. 'E learns to do 'is watchin' without it showin' plain; 'E learns to save a dummy, an' shove 'im straight again; 'E learns to check a ranker that's buyin' leave to shirk; An' 'e learns to make men like 'im so they'll learn to like their work. An' when it comes to marchin' he'll see their socks are right, An' when it comes to action 'e shows 'em 'ow to sight; 'E knows their ways of thinkin' and just what's in their mind; 'E feels when they are comin' on an' when they've fell be'ind. 'E knows each talkin' corpril that leads a squad astray; 'E feels 'is innards 'eavin', 'is bowels givin' way; 'E sees the blue-white faces all tryin' 'ard to grin, An' 'e stands an' waits an' suffers till it's time to cap 'em in. An' now the hugly bullets come peckin' through the dust, An' no one wants to face 'em, but every beggar must; So, like a man in irons which isn't glad to go, They moves 'em off by companies uncommon stiff an' slow. Of all 'is five years' schoolin' they don't remember much Excep' the not retreatin', the step an' keepin' touch. It looks like teachin' wasted when they duck an' spread an' 'op, But if 'e 'adn't learned 'em they'd be all about the shop! An' now it's "'Oo goes backward?" an' now it's "'Oo comes on?" An' now it's "Get the doolies," an' now the captain's gone; An' now it's bloody murder, but all the while they 'ear 'Is voice, the same as barrick drill, a-shepherdin' the rear. 'E's just as sick as they are, 'is 'eart is like to split, But 'e works 'em, works 'em, works 'em till 'e feels 'em take the bit; The rest is 'oldin' steady till the watchful bugles play, An' 'e lifts 'em, lifts 'em, lifts 'em through the charge that wins the day! The 'eathen in 'is blindness bows down to wood an' stone; 'E don't obey no orders unless they is 'is own; The 'eathen in 'is blindness must end where 'e began, But the backbone of the Army is the noncommissioned man! Keep away from dirtiness--keep away from mess. Don't get into doin things rather-more-or-less! Let's ha' done with abby-nay, kul, an' hazar-ho; Mind you keep your rifle an' yourself jus' so! L'Envoi (TO 'THE SEVEN SEAS') When Earth's last picture is painted, and the tubes are twisted and dried, When the oldest colours have faded, and the youngest critic has died, We shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it--lie down for an ĉon or two, Till the Master of All Good Workmen shall set us to work anew! And those that were good shall be happy: they shall sit in a golden chair; They shall splash at a ten-league canvas with brushes of comets' hair; They shall find real saints to draw from--Magdalene, Peter, and Paul, They shall work for an age at a sitting and never be tired at all! And only the Master shall praise us, and only the Master shall blame; And no one shall work for money, and no one shall work for fame; But each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star, Shall draw the Thing as he sees It for the God of Things as They Are!  * From The Five Nations (1903) *  The Sea and the Hills Who hath desired the Sea?--the sight of salt water unbounded-- The heave and the halt and the hurl and the crash of the comber wind-hounded? The sleek-barrelled swell before storm, grey, foamless, enormous, and growing-- Stark calm on the lap of the Line or the crazy-eyed hurricane blowing-- His Sea in no showing the same--his Sea and the same 'neath each showing: His Sea as she slackens or thrills? So and no otherwise--so and no otherwise hillmen desire their Hills! Who hath desired the Sea?--the immense and contemptuous surges? The shudder, the stumble, the swerve, as the star-stabbing bowsprit emerges? The orderly clouds of the Trades, the ridged, roaring sapphire thereunder-- Unheralded cliff-haunting flaws and the headsail's low-volleying thunder-- His Sea in no wonder the same--his Sea and the same through each wonder: His Sea as she rages or stills? So and no otherwise--so and no otherwise hillmen desire their Hills. Who hath desired the Sea? Her menaces swift as her mercies? The in-rolling walls of the fog and the silver-winged breeze that disperses? The unstable mined berg going South and the calvings and groans that declare it-- White water half-guessed overside and the moon breaking timely to bare it-- His Sea as his fathers have dared--his Sea as his children shall dare it: His Sea as she serves him or kills? So and no otherwise--so and no otherwise hillmen desire their Hills. Who hath desired the Sea? Her excellent loneliness rather Than forecourts of kings, and her outermost pits than the streets where men gather Inland, among dust, under trees--inland where the slayer may slay him-- Inland, out of reach of her arms, and the bosom whereon he must lay him-- His Sea from the first that betrayed--at the last that shall never betray him: His Sea that his being fulfils? So and no otherwise--so and no otherwise hillmen desire their Hills. The White Man's Burden Take up the White Man's burden-- Send forth the best ye breed-- Go bind your sons to exile To serve your captives' need; To wait in heavy harness On fluttered folk and wild-- Your new-caught, sullen peoples, Half-devil and half-child. Take up the White Man's burden-- In patience to abide, To veil the threat of terror And check the show of pride; By open speech and simple, An hundred times made plain. To seek another's profit, And work another's gain. Take up the White Man's burden-- The savage wars of peace-- Fill full the mouth of Famine And bid the sickness cease; And when your goal is nearest The end for others sought, Watch Sloth and heathen Folly Bring all your hope to nought. Take up the White Man's burden-- No tawdry rule of kings, But toil of serf and sweeper-- The tale of common things. The ports ye shall not enter, The roads ye shall not tread, Go make them with your living, And mark them with your dead. Take up the White Man's burden-- And reap his old reward: The blame of those ye better, The hate of those ye guard-- The cry of hosts ye humour (Ah, slowly!) toward the light:-- "Why brought ye us from bondage, "Our loved Egyptian night?" Take up the White Man's burden-- Ye dare not stoop to less-- Nor call too loud on Freedom To cloak your weariness; By all ye cry or whisper, By all ye leave or do, The silent, sullen peoples Shall weigh your Gods and you. Take up the White Man's burden-- Have done with childish days-- The lightly proffered laurel, The easy, ungrudged praise. Comes now, to search your manhood Through all the thankless years, Cold-edged with dear-bought wisdom, The judgment of your peers! Boots We're foot--slog--slog--slog--sloggin' over Africa-- Foot--foot--foot--foot--sloggin' over Africa-- (Boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again!) There's no discharge in the war! Seven--six--eleven--five--nine-an'-twenty mile to-day-- Four--eleven--seventeen--thirty-two the day before-- (Boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again!) There's no discharge in the war! Don't--don't--don't--don't--look at what's in front of you. (Boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again); Men--men--men--men--men go mad with watchin' em, An' there's no discharge in the war! Try--try--try--try--to think o' something different-- Oh--my--God--keep--me from goin' lunatic! (Boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again!) There's no discharge in the war! Count--count--count--count--the bullets in the bandoliers. If--your--eyes---drop--they will get atop o' you! (Boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again)-- There's no discharge in the war! We--can--stick--out--'unger, thirst, an' weariness, But--not--not--not--not the chronic sight of 'em-- Boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again, An' there's no discharge in the war! 'Tain't--so--bad--by--day because o' company, But night--brings--long--strings--o' forty thousand million Boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again. There's no discharge in the war! I--'ave--marched--six--weeks in 'Ell an' certify It-is--not--fire--devils, dark, or anything, But boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again, An' there's no discharge in the war!  * From Songs from Books (1912 ff.) *  Cities and Thrones and Powers Cities and Thrones and Powers, Stand in Time's eye, Almost as long as flowers, Which daily die; But, as new buds put forth To glad new men, Out of the spent and unconsidered Earth The Cities rise again. This season's Daffodil, She never hears, What change, what chance, what chill, Cut down last year's: But with bold countenance, And knowledge small, Esteems her seven days' continuance, To be perpetual. So Time that is o'er-kind, To all that be, Ordains us e'en as blind, As bold as she: That in our very death, And burial sure, Shadow to shadow, well-persuaded, saith, 'See how our works endure!' Tarrant Moss I closed and drew for my love's sake That now is false to me, And I slew the Reiver of Tarrant Moss And set Dumeny free. They have gone down, they have gone down, They are standing all arow-- Twenty knights in the peat-water, That never struck a blow! Their armour shall not dull nor rust, Their flesh shall not decay, For Tarrant Moss holds them in trust, Until the Judgment Day. Their soul went from them in their youth, Ah God, that mine had gone, Whenas I leaned on my love's truth And not on my sword alone! Whenas I leaned on lad's belief And not on my naked blade-- And I slew a thief, and an honest thief, For the sake of a worthless maid. They have laid the Reiver low in his place, They have set me up on high, But the twenty knights in the peat-water Are luckier than I. And ever they give me gold and praise And ever I mourn my loss-- For I struck the blow for my false love's sake And not for the Men of the Moss! A Song to Mithras (HYMN OF THE 30[TH] LEGION: CIRGA A.D. 350) Mithras, God of the Morning, our trumpets waken the Wall! 'Rome is above the Nations, but Thou art over all!' Now as the names are answered, and the guards are marched away, Mithras, also a soldier, give us strength for the day! Mithras, God of the Noontide, the heather swims in the heat. Our helmets scorch our foreheads, our sandals bum our feet. Now in the ungirt hour--now ere we blink and drowse, Mithras, also a soldier, keep us true to our vows! Mithras, God of the Sunset, low on the Western main-- Thou descending immortal, immortal to rise again! Now when the watch is ended, now when the wine is drawn! Mithras, also a soldier, keep us pure till the dawn! Mithras, God of the Midnight, here where the great bull dies, Look on thy children in darkness. Oh take our sacrifice! Many roads thou hast fashioned--all of them lead to the Light: Mithras, also a soldier, teach us to die aright! Hadramauti 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. 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. So it is not in the Desert. One came to me weeping-- The Avenger of Blood on his track--1 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. 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! 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! 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! The Law of the Jungle Now this is the Law of the Jungle--as old and as true as the sky; And the Wolf that shall keep it may prosper, but the Wolf that shall break it must die. As the creeper that girdles the tree-trunk the Law runneth forward and back-- For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack. Wash daily from nose-tip to tail-tip; drink deeply, but never too deep; And remember the night is for hunting, and forget not the day is for sleep. The Jackal may follow the Tiger, but, Cub, when thy whiskers are grown, Remember the Wolf is a hunter--go forth and get food of thine own. Keep peace with the Lords of the Jungle--the Tiger, the Panther, the Bear; And trouble not Hathi the Silent, and mock not the Boar in his lair. When Pack meets with Pack in the Jungle, and neither will go from the trail, Lie down till the leaders have spoken--it may be fair words shall prevail. When ye fight with a Wolf of the Pack, ye must fight him alone and afar, Lest others take part in the quarrel, and the Pack be diminished by war. The Lair of the Wolf is his refuge, and where he has made him his home, Not even the Head Wolf may enter, not even the Council may come. The Lair of the Wolf is his refuge, but where he has digged it too plain, The Council shall send him a message, and so he shall change it again. If ye kill before midnight, be silent, and wake not the woods with your bay, Lest ye frighten the deer from the crops, and the brothers go empty away. Ye may kill for yourselves, and your mates, and your cubs as they need, and ye can; But kill not for pleasure of killing, and seven times never kill Man! If ye plunder his Kill from a weaker, devour not all in thy pride; Pack-Right is the right of the meanest; so leave him the head and the hide. The Kill of the Pack is the meat of the Pack. Ye must eat where it lies; And no one may carry away of that meat to his lair, or he dies. The Kill of the Wolf is the meat of the Wolf. He may do what he will, But, till he has given permission, the Pack may not eat of that Kill. Cub-Right is the right of the Yearling. From all of his Pack he may claim Full-gorge when the killer has eaten; and none may refuse him the same. Lair-Right is the right of the Mother. From all of her year she may claim One haunch of each kill for her litter; and none may deny her the same. Cave-Right is the right of the Father--to hunt by himself for his own: He is freed of all calls to the Pack; he is judged by the Council alone. Because of his age and his cunning, because of his gripe and his paw, In all that the Law leaveth open, the word of the Head Wolf is Law. Now these are the Laws of the Jungle, and many and mighty are they; But the head and the hoof of the Law and the haunch and the hump is--Obey! If- If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or being hated don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dream--and not make dreams your master; If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim, If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools: If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!' If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with Kings--nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son! x x x I keep six honest serving-men (They taught me all I knew); Their names are What and Why and When And How and Where and Who. I send them over land and sea, I send them east and west; But after they have worked for me, I give them all a rest. I let them rest from nine till five, For I am busy then, As well as breakfast, lunch, and tea, For they are hungry men. But different folk have different views; I know a person small-- She keeps ten million serving-men, Who get no rest at all! She sends 'em abroad on her own affairs, From the second she opens her eyes-- One million Hows, two million Wheres, And seven million Whys! The Song of the little Hunter Ere Mor the Peacock flutters, ere the Monkey People cry, Ere Chil the Kite swoops down a furlong sheer, Through the Jungle very softly flits a shadow and a sigh-- He is Fear, 0 Little Hunter, he is Fear! Very softly down the glade runs a waiting, watching shade, And the whisper spreads and widens far and near. And the sweat is on thy brow, for he passes even now-- He is Fear, 0 Little Hunter, he is Fear! Ere the moon has climbed the mountain, ere the rocks are ribbed with light, When the downward-dipping trails are dank and drear, Comes a breathing hard behind thee--snuffle-snuffle through the night-- It is Fear, 0 Little Hunter, it is Fear! On thy knees and draw the bow; bid the shrilling arrow go; In the empty, mocking thicket plunge the spear! But thy hands are loosed and weak, and the blood has left thy cheek-- It is Fear, 0 Little Hunter, it is Fear! When the heat-cloud sucks the tempest, when the slivered pine-trees fall, When the blinding, blaring rain-squalls lash and veer, Through the war-gongs of the thunder rings a voice more loud than all- It is Fear, 0 Little Hunter, it is Fear! Now the spates are banked and deep; now the footless boulders leap-- Now the lightning shows each littlest leaf-rib clear-- But thy throat is shut and dried, and thy heart against thy side Hammers: Fear, 0 Little Hunter--this is Fear! Blue Roses Roses red and roses white Plucked I for my love's delight. She would none of all my posies-- Bade me gather her blue roses. Half the world I wandered through, Seeking where such flowers grew. Half the world unto my quest Answered me with laugh and jest. Home I came at wintertide, But my silly love had died, Seeking with her latest breath Roses from the arms of Death. It may be beyond the grave She shall find what she would have. Mine was but an idle quest-- Roses white and red are best. Mother o' Mine If I were hanged on the highest hill, Mother o' mine, 0 mother o' mine! I know whose love would follow me still, Mother o' mine, 0 mother o' mine! If I were drowned in the deepest sea, Mother o' mine, 0 mother o' mine! I know whose tears would come down to me, Mother o' mine, 0 mother o' mine! If I were damned of body and soul, I know whose prayers would make me whole, Mother o' mine, 0 mother o' mine!  * From Miscellaneous Sources *  The Vampire A fool there was and he made his prayer (Even as you and I!) To a rag and a bone and a hank of hair (We called her the woman who did not care) But the fool he called her his lady fair-- (Even as you and I!) Oh, the years we waste and the tears we waste, And the work of our head and hand Belong to the woman who did not know (And now we know that she never could know) And did not understand. A fool there was and his goods he spent (Even as you and I!) Honour and faith and a sure intent (And it wasn't the least what the lady meant), But a fool must follow his natural bent (Even as you and I!) Oh, the toil we lost and the spoil we lost, And the excellent things we planned, Belong to the woman who didn't know why (And now we know that she never knew why) And did not understand. The fool was stripped to his foolish hide (Even as you and I!) Which she might have seen when she threw him aside (But it isn't on record the lady tried) So some of him lived but the most of him died (Even as you and I!) And it isn't the shame and it isn't the blame That stings like a white hot brand, It's coming to know that she never knew why (Seeing at last she could never know why) And never could understand. Recessional God of our fathers, known of old, Lord of our far-flung battle-line, Beneath whose awful Hand we hold Dominion over palm and pine-- Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget--lest we forget! The tumult and the shouting dies; The Captains and the Kings depart: Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice, An humble and a contrite heart. Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget--lest we forget! Far-called, our navies melt away; On dune and headland sinks the fire: Lo, all our pomp of yesterday Is one with Nineveh and Tyre! Judge of the Nations, spare us yet, Lest we forget--lest we forget! If, drunk with sight of power, we loose Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe, Such boastings as the Gentiles use, Or lesser breeds without the Law-- Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget--lest we forget! For heathen heart that puts her trust In reeking tube and iron shard, All valiant dust that builds on dust, And guarding, calls not Thee to guard, For frantic boast and foolish word-- Thy mercy on Thy People, Lord! Amen The Absent-Minded Beggar When you've shouted "Rule Britannia," when you've sung "God save the Queen"-- When you've finished killing Kruger with your mouth-- Will you kindly drop a shilling in my little tambourine For a gentleman in kharki ordered South? He's an absent-minded beggar, and his weaknesses are great-- But we and Paul must take him as we find him-- He is out on active service, wiping something off a slate-- And he's left a lot of little things behind him! Duke's son--cook's son--son of a hundred kings-- (Fifty thousand horse and foot going to Table Bay!) Each of 'em doing his country's work (and who's to look after their things?) Pass the hat for your credit's sake, and pay--pay--pay! There are girls he married secret, asking no permission to, For he knew he wouldn't get it if he did. There is gas and coals and vittles, and the house-rent falling due, And it's more than rather likely there's a kid. There are girls he walked with casual, they'll be sorry now he's gone, For an absent-minded beggar they will find him, But it ain't the time for sermons with the winter coming on-- We must help the girl that Tommy's left behind him! Cook's son--Duke's son--son of a belted Earl-- Son of a Lambeth publican--it's all the same to-day! Each of 'em doing his country's work (and who's to look after the girl?) Pass the hat for your credit's sake, and--pay! pay! pay! There are families by thousands, far too proud to beg or speak-- And they'll put their sticks and bedding up the spout, And they'll live on half o' nothing paid 'em punctual once a week, 'Cause the man that earns the wage is ordered out. He's an absent-minded beggar, but he heard his country call, And his reg'ment didn't need to send to find him: He chucked his job and joined it--so the job before us all Is to help the home that Tommy's left behind him! Duke's job--cook's job--gardener, baronet, groom-- Mews or palace or paper-shop--there's some one gone away! Each of 'em doing his country's work (and who's to look after the room?) Pass the hat for your credit's sake, and--pay! pay! pay! Let us manage so as, later, we can look him in the face, And tell him--what he'd very much prefer-- That, while he saved the Empire his employer saved his place, And his mates (that's you and me) looked out for her. He's an absent-minded beggar and he may forget it all, But we do not want his kiddies to remind him, That we sent 'em to the workhouse while their daddy hammered Paul, So we'll help the homes that Tommy left behind him. Cook's home--Duke's home--home of a millionaire-- (Fifty thousand horse and foot going to Table Bay!) Each of 'em doing his country's work (and what have you got to spare?) Pass the hat for your credit's sake, and--pay! pay! pay! The Female of the Species When the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride, He shouts to scare the monster who will often turn aside. But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail. For the female of the species is more deadly than the male. When Nag, the wayside cobra, hears the careless foot of man, He will sometimes wriggle sideways and avoid it if he can, But his mate makes no such motion where she camps beside the trail-- For the female of the species is more deadly than the male. When the early Jesuit fathers preached to Hurons and Choctaws, They prayed to be delivered from the vengeance of the squaws-- 'Twas the women, not the warriors, turned those stark enthusiasts pale-- For the female of the species is more deadly than the male. Man's timid heart is bursting with the things he must not say, For the Woman that God gave him isn't his to give away; But when hunter meets with husband, each confirms the other's tale-- The female of the species is more deadly than the male. Man, a bear in most relations, worm and savage otherwise, Man propounds negotiations, Man accepts the compromise; Very rarely will he squarely push the logic of a fact To its ultimate conclusion in unmitigated act. Fear, or foolishness, impels him, ere he lay the wicked low, To concede some form of trial even to his fiercest foe. Mirth obscene diverts his anger; Doubt and Pity oft perplex Him in dealing with an issue--to the scandal of the Sex! But the Woman that God gave him, every fibre of her frame Proves her launched for one sole issue, armed and engined for the same, And to serve that single issue, lest the generations fail, The female of the species must be deadlier than the male. She who faces Death by torture for each life beneath her breast May not deal in doubt or pity--must not swerve for fact or jest. These be purely male diversions--not in these her honour dwells-- She, the Other Law we live by, is that Law and nothing else! She can bring no more to living than the powers that make her great As the Mother of the Infant and the Mistress of the Mate; And when Babe and Man are lacking and she strides unclaimed to claim Her right as femme (and baron), her equipment is the same. She is wedded to convictions--in default of grosser ties; Her contentions are her children. Heaven help him, who denies! He will meet no cool discussion, but the instant, white-hot, wild Wakened female of the species warring as for spouse and child. Unprovoked and awful charges--even so the she-bear fights; Speech that drips, corrodes and poisons--even so the cobra bites; Scientific vivisection of one nerve till it is raw, And the victim writhes in anguish--like the Jesuit with the squaw! So it comes that Man, the coward, when he gathers to confer With his fellow-braves in council, dare not leave a place for her Where, at war with Life and Conscience, he uplifts his erring hands To some God of Abstract Justice--which no woman understands. And Man knows it! Knows, moreover, that the Woman that God gave him Must command but may not govern; shall enthrall but not enslave him. And She knows, because She warns him and Her instincts never fail, That the female of Her species is more deadly than the male!  * Notes to the Text *  An immense vocabulary, drawn from many historical, social and professional levels of the English language, is one of the characteristics of Kipling's poetry. Hardly any reader will fail to have recourse to a good dictionary now and again. These brief notes concentrate on the Asian and African allusions, British army jargon and a few other specialized geographical and historical terms. No attempt has been made to gloss such items as (to give only two instances) the parts of a ship's engine detailed in "McAndrew's Hymn" (not to mention the Scottish dialect!) or the far-flung topography of "The English Flag." A LEGEND OF THE FOREIGN OFFICE. "Simpkin": Hindustani pronunciation of champagne. Peg: small drink. C. S. I.: Companion of (the Order of) the Star of India, a high decoration. Cess: tax for special purpose. Bukhshi: commander in chief. Mahratta: a people of central western India. Hookum: order. Dasturi: bribery. Birthday honors: decorations announced on the occasion of the British monarch's birthday. C. I. E.: Companion of (the Order of) the Indian Empire, a lower-ranking decoration. Thana: police station. Lakh: 100,000 rupees. Zenana: harem. THE STORY OF URIAH. Uriah: husband of Bathsheba, whom King David sent to the front line to get him out of the way. Quetta: in what is now the Pakistani province Baluchistan, in Kipling's day a remote and dangerous post. Simla: Himalayan summer resort town for British officers in India. Screw: pay. Hurnai: Harnai, in the Quetta region. THE BETROTHED. Suttee: faithful Indian widow who cremates herself on her husband's pyre. THE BALLAD OF EAST AND WEST. Border: between British India and Afghanistan. Calkins: sharp metal pieces attached to horseshoes for stability; turning them would confuse the trail. Ressaldar: commander of a native cavalry troop. Snaffle: type of bridle bit. Byre: cowshed. Ling: heather. Peshawur: Peshawar, chief border town on the Indian (now Pakistani) side. Khyber: border pass near Peshawar. THE BALLAD OF THE KING'S MERCY. Durani: Durrani, Afghani tribal confederation. Baikh, Kandahar: provinces of Afghanistan. Kaffir: "unbeliever" in Arabic. Euzufzai: Afghani tribe. Reiver: robber, cattle rustler. Sungar: breastwork. Usbeg: Uzbek, a Central Asian people. Ramazan: Islamic fasting month. THE BALLAD OF THE 'BOLIVAR.' Hog: receive upward curvature in the keel. Lloyd's: London insurance house. IN THE NEOLITHIC AGE. Dwerg: dwarf. Solutré, Crenelle: French prehistoric sites. Tr--l: Traill (the mid-nineteenth-century editor of the Encyclopaedia Britannica??). Allobrogenses: ancient Gallic tribe. Kew, Clapham: London suburbs. Khatmandhu: capital of Nepal. Martaban: town in Burma. TOMLINSON. Empusa: ancient Greek hobgoblin. TOMMY. Tommy Atkins: personification of the British enlisted man. Widow: Queen Victoria. 'FUZZY-WUZZY.' Paythan: Pathan, an Afghani people. Impi: body of warriors. Martini: Martini-Henry rifle. Square: hollow-square battle formation. GUNGA DIN. Aldershot: military camp near London. Bhisti: water carrier. Dooli: litter, stretcher. Lazarushian-leather: humorous combination of Lazarus and Russian leather. OONTS. Penk: tap. MANDALAY. Theebaw: Thibau, king of Burma 1878-1885, conquered by the British. Hathi: elephant. GENTLEMEN-RANKERS. The title term means rank-and-file soldiers who belonged to the gentry in civilian life. L'ENVOI (TO 'BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS'). Tents of Shem: connotes comfortable home territory. Peter: signal for setting sail. SESTINA OF THE TRAMP-ROYAL. Sestina: a poem written to the prosodic rules manifested in this one. Tucker: food, sustenance. THE LADIES. Prome: town in Burma. 'Oogli: Hugli, town in Bengal. De Castrer: de Castro, typical name of an Anglo-Indian (of mixed Indian and European--in this case, Portuguese--parentage). Neemuch, Mhow: in Central India. Meerut: city near Delhi. THE SERGEANT'S WEDDIN'. "An' a rogue is married to, etc.": the "etc." stands for "a whore"; the Victorians wouldn't spell it out, but they knew which word was intended. Twig: observe. THE 'EATHEN. Lance: lance corporal, still drawing private's pay. THE WHITE MAN'S BURDEN: written 1899, an exhortation to the United States upon its acquisition of the Philippines. A SONG TO MITHRAS. Mithras: god of an Iranian salvation religion in the early centuries A.D., especially popular with legionaries through-out the Roman Empire. Wall: Hadrian's Wall in the north of England, Rome's northwesternmost frontier. HADRAMAUTI. Hadramauti: native of a region of what is now Saudi Arabia. Eblis: Satan. THE VAMPIRE: inspired by a painting by Philip Burne-Jones exhibited in London in 1897. THE ABSENT-MINDED BEGGAR: written during the Boer War and intended for public performance, it was set to music by Sir Arthur Sullivan. Paul: Kruger, the Boer leader. THE FEMALE OF THE SPECIES: originally bearing the subtitle "A Natural History," this devastatingly misogynistic piece ironically was first published in the U.S. in The Ladies' Home Joumal! x x x 1 Bring water swiftly. 2 Mr. Atkins' equivalent for '0 brother.' 3 Be quick. 1 Hit you. 2 Water skin. 1 Camel--oo is pronounced like u in 'bull,' but by Mr. Atkins to rhyme with 'front.' 1 Head-groom. 1 Slang. 1 Not now. 1 To-morrow. 1 Wait a bit.