Complete Works of Rudyard Kipling (Illustrated)

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Complete Works of Rudyard Kipling (Illustrated) Page 773

by Rudyard Kipling


  And the “drip-drip-drip” from the baskets

  Reddened the grass by the way.

  They made a pile of their trophies

  High as a tall man’s chin,

  Head upon head distorted,

  Set in a sightless grin,

  Anger and pain and terror

  Stamped on the smoke-scorched skin.

  Subadar Prag Tewarri

  Put the head of the Boh

  On the top of the mound of triumph,

  The head of his son below —

  With the sword and the peacock-banner

  That the world might behold and know.

  Thus the samadh was perfect,

  Thus was the lesson plain

  Of the wrath of the First Shikaris —

  The price of a white man slain;

  And the men of the First Shikaris

  Went back into camp again.

  Then a silence came to the river,

  A hush fell over the shore,

  And Bohs that were brave departed,

  And Sniders squibbed no more;

  For the Burmans said

  That a white man’s head

  Must be paid for with heads five-score.

  There’s a widow in sleepy Chester

  Who weeps for her only son;

  There’s a grave on the Pabeng River,

  A grave that the Burmans shun;

  And there’s Subadar Prag Tewarri

  Who tells how the work was done.

  Great-Heart

  Theodore Roosevelt

  “The interpreter then called for a man-servant of his, one Great-Heart.” — Bunyan’s’ Pilgrim’s Progess.

  Concerning brave Captains

  Our age hath made known

  For all men to honour,

  One standeth alone,

  Of whom, o’er both oceans,

  Both peoples may say:

  “Our realm is diminished

  With Great-Heart away.”

  In purpose unsparing,

  In action no less,

  The labours he praised

  He would seek and profess

  Through travail and battle,

  At hazard and pain. . . .

  And our world is none the braver

  Since Great-Heart was ta’en!

  Plain speech with plain folk,

  And plain words for false things,

  Plain faith in plain dealing

  ‘Twixt neighbours or kings,

  He used and he followed,

  However it sped. . . .

  Oh, our world is none more honest

  Now Great-Heart is dead!

  The heat of his spirit

  Struck warm through all lands;

  For he loved such as showed

  ‘Emselves men of their hands;

  In love, as in hate,

  Paying home to the last. . . .

  But our world is none the kinder

  Now Great-Heart hath passed!

  Hard-schooled by long power,

  Yet most humble of mind

  Where aught that he was

  Might advantage mankind.

  Leal servant, loved master,

  Rare comrade, sure guide. . . .

  Oh, our world is none the safer

  Now Great-Heart hath died!

  Let those who would handle

  Make sure they can wield

  His far-reaching sword

  And his close-guarding shield:

  For those who must journey

  Henceforward alone

  Have need of stout convoy

  Now Great-Heart is gone.

  The Greek National Anthem

  1918

  We knew thee of old,

  Oh divinely restored,

  By the light of thine eyes

  And the light of thy Sword.

  From the graves of our slain

  Shall thy valour prevail

  As we greet thee again —

  Hail, Liberty! Hail!

  Long time didst thou dwell

  Mid the peoples that mourn,

  Awaiting some voice

  That should bid thee return.

  Ah, slow broke that day

  And no man dared call,

  For the shadow of tyranny

  Lay over all:

  And we saw thee sad-eyed,

  The tears on thy cheeks

  While thy raiment was dyed

  In the blood of the Greeks.

  Yet, behold now thy sons

  With impetuous breath

  Go forth to the fight

  Seeking Freedom or Death.

  From the graves of our slain

  Shall thy valour prevail

  As we greet thee again —

  Hail, Liberty! Hail!

  Gunga Din

  You may talk o’ gin and beer

  When you’re quartered safe out ‘ere,

  An’ you’re sent to penny-fights an’ Aldershot it;

  But when it comes to slaughter

  You will do your work on water,

  An’ you’ll lick the bloomin’ boots of ‘im that’s got it.

  Now in Injia’s sunny clime,

  Where I used to spend my time

  A-servin’ of ‘Er Majesty the Queen,

  Of all them blackfaced crew

  The finest man I knew

  Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din.

  He was “Din! Din! Din!

  You limpin’ lump o’ brick-dust, Gunga Din!

  Hi! Slippy hitherao!

  Water, get it! Panee lao! [Bring water swiftly.]

  You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din.”

  The uniform ‘e wore

  Was nothin’ much before,

  An’ rather less than ‘arf o’ that be’ind,

  For a piece o’ twisty rag

  An’ a goatskin water-bag

  Was all the field-equipment ‘e could find.

  When the sweatin’ troop-train lay

  In a sidin’ through the day,

  Where the ‘eat would make your bloomin’ eyebrows crawl,

  We shouted “Harry By!” [Mr. Atkins’s equivalent for “O brother.”]

  Till our throats were bricky-dry,

  Then we wopped ‘im ‘cause ‘e couldn’t serve us all.

  It was “Din! Din! Din!

  You ‘eathen, where the mischief ‘ave you been?

  You put some juldee in it [Be quick.]

  Or I’ll marrow you this minute [Hit you.]

  If you don’t fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!”

  ‘E would dot an’ carry one

  Till the longest day was done;

  An’ ‘e didn’t seem to know the use o’ fear.

  If we charged or broke or cut,

  You could bet your bloomin’ nut,

  ‘E’d be waitin’ fifty paces right flank rear.

  With ‘is mussick on ‘is back, [Water-skin.]

  ‘E would skip with our attack,

  An’ watch us till the bugles made “Retire”,

  An’ for all ‘is dirty ‘ide

  ‘E was white, clear white, inside

  When ‘e went to tend the wounded under fire!

  It was “Din! Din! Din!”

  With the bullets kickin’ dust-spots on the green.

  When the cartridges ran out,

  You could hear the front-ranks shout,

  “Hi! ammunition-mules an’ Gunga Din!”

  I shan’t forgit the night

  When I dropped be’ind the fight

  With a bullet where my belt-plate should ‘a’ been.

  I was chokin’ mad with thirst,

  An’ the man that spied me first

  Was our good old grinnin’, gruntin’ Gunga Din.

  ‘E lifted up my ‘ead,

  An’ he plugged me where I bled,

  An’ ‘e guv me ‘arf-a-pint o’ water-green:

  It was crawlin’ and it stunk,

  But of all the drinks I’ve drunk,

/>   I’m gratefullest to one from Gunga Din.

  It was “Din! Din! Din!

  ‘Ere’s a beggar with a bullet through ‘is spleen;

  ‘E’s chawin’ up the ground,

  An’ ‘e’s kickin’ all around:

  For Gawd’s sake git the water, Gunga Din!”

  ‘E carried me away

  To where a dooli lay,

  An’ a bullet come an’ drilled the beggar clean.

  ‘E put me safe inside,

  An’ just before ‘e died,

  “I ‘ope you liked your drink”, sez Gunga Din.

  So I’ll meet ‘im later on

  At the place where ‘e is gone —

  Where it’s always double drill and no canteen.

  ‘E’ll be squattin’ on the coals

  Givin’ drink to poor damned souls,

  An’ I’ll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din!

  Yes, Din! Din! Din!

  You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din!

  Though I’ve belted you and flayed you,

  By the livin’ Gawd that made you,

  You’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din!

  Half-Ballade of Waterval

  (Non-commissioned Officers in Charge of Prisoners)

  When by the labour of my ‘ands I’ve ‘elped to pack a transport tight With prisoners for foreign lands, I ain’t transported with delight. I know it’s only just an’ right, But yet it somehow sickens me, For I ‘ave learned at Waterval The meanin’ of captivity. Be’ind the pegged barb-wire strands, Beneath the tall electric light, We used to walk in bare-’ead bands, Explainin’ ‘ow we lost our fight; An’ that is what they’ll do to-night Upon the steamer out at sea, If I ‘ave learned at Waterval The meanin’ of captivity. They’ll never know the shame that brands — Black shame no livin’ down makes white — The mockin’ from the sentry-stands, The women’s laugh, the gaoler’s spite. We are too bloomin’-much polite, But that is ‘ow I’d ‘ave us be... Since I ‘ave learned at Waterval The meanin’ of captivity. They’ll get those draggin’ days all right, Spent as a foreigner commands, An’ ‘orrors of the locked-up night, With ‘Ell’s own thinkin’ on their ‘ands. I’d give the gold o’ twenty Rands (If it was mine) to set ‘em free, For I ‘ave learned at Waterval The meanin’ of captivity!

  Harp Song of the Dane Women

  What is a woman that you forsake her,

  And the hearth-fire and the home-acre,

  To go with the old grey Widow-maker?

  She has no house to lay a guest in —

  But one chill bed for all to rest in,

  That the pale suns and the stray bergs nest in.

  She has no strong white arms to fold you,

  But the ten-times-fingering weed to hold you —

  Out on the rocks where the tide has rolled you.

  Yet, when the signs of summer thicken,

  And the ice breaks, and the birch-buds quicken,

  Yearly you turn from our side, and sicken —

  Sicken again for the shouts and the slaughters.

  You steal away to the lapping waters,

  And look at your ship in her winter-quarters.

  You forget our mirth, and talk at the tables,

  The kine in the shed and the horse in the stables —

  To pitch her sides and go over her cables.

  Then you drive out where the storm-clouds swallow,

  And the sound of your oar-blades, falling hollow,

  Is all we have left through the months to follow.

  Ah, what is Woman that you forsake her,

  And the hearth-fire and the home-acre,

  To go with the old grey Widow-maker ?

  Helen all Alone

  “In the Same Boat” — A Diversity of Creatures

  There was darkness under Heaven

  For an hour’s space —

  Darkness that we knew was given

  Us for special grace.

  Sun and moon and stars were hid,

  God had left His Throne,

  When Helen came to me, she did,

  Helen all alone!

  Side by side (because our fate

  Damned us ere our birth)

  We stole out of Limbo Gate

  Looking for the Earth.

  Hand in pulling hand amid

  Fear no dreams have known,

  Helen ran with me, she did,

  Helen all alone!

  When the Horror passing speech

  Hunted us along,

  Each laid hold on each, and each

  Found the other strong.

  In the teeth of Things forbid

  And Reason overthrown,

  Helen stood by me, she did,

  Helen all alone!

  When, at last, we heard those Fires

  Dull and die away,

  When, at last, our linked desires

  Dragged us up to day;

  When, at last, our souls were rid

  Of what that Night had shown,

  Helen passed from me, she did,

  Helen all alone!

  Let her go and find a mate,

  As I will find a bride,

  Knowing naught of Limbo Gate

  Or Who are penned inside.

  There is knowledge God forbid

  More than one should own.

  So Helen went from me, she did,

  Oh, my soul, be glad she did!

  Helen all alone!

  Heriot’s Ford

  Enlarged from “The Light that Failed”

  “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!

  The Heritage

  Our Fathers in a wondrous age,

  Ere yet the Earth was small,

  Ensured to us a heritage,

  And doubted not at all

  That we, the children of their heart,

  Which then did beat so high,

  In later time should play like part

  For our posterity.

  A thousand years they steadfast built,

  To ‘vantage us and ours,

  The Walls that were a world’s despair,

  The sea-constraining Towers:

  Yet in their midmost pride they knew,

  And unto Kings made known,

  Not all from these their strength they drew,

  Their faith from brass or stone.

  Youth’s passion, manhood’s fierce intent,

  With ag
e’s judgment wise,

  They spent, and counted not they spent,

  At daily sacrifice.

  Not lambs alone nor purchased doves

  Or tithe of trader’s gold —

  Their lives most dear, their dearer loves,

  They offered up of old.

  Refraining e’en from lawful things,

  They bowed the neck to bear

  The unadorned yoke that brings

  Stark toil and sternest care.

  Wherefore through them is Freedom sure;

  Wherefore through them we stand,

  From all but sloth and pride secure,

  In a delightsome land.

  Then, fretful, murmur not they gave

  So great a charge to keep,

  Nor dream that awestruck Time shall save

  Their labour while we sleep.

  Dear-bought and clear, a thousand year,

  Our fathers’ title runs.

  Make we likewise their sacrifice,

  Defrauding not our sons.

  His Apologies

  1932

  Master, this is Thy Servant. He is rising eight weeks old.

  He is mainly Head and Tummy. His legs are uncontrolled.

  But Thou hast forgiven his ugliness, and settled him on Thy knee...

  Art Thou content with Thy Servant? He is very comfy with Thee.

  Master, behold a Sinner! He hath committed a wrong.

  He hath defiled Thy Premises through being kept in too long.

  Wherefore his nose has been rubbed in the dirt, and his self-respect has been bruised.

  Master, pardon Thy Sinner, and see he is properly loosed.

  Master-again Thy Sinner! This that was once Thy Shoe,

  He has found and taken and carried aside, as fitting matter to chew.

  Now there is neither blacking nor tongue, and the Housemaid has us in tow.

  Master, remember Thy Servant is young, and tell her to let him go!

  Master, extol Thy Servant, he has met a most Worthy Foe!

 

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