He lost his money first of all
—And losing that is half the story—
And later on he tried a fall
With Fate, in things less transitory.
—And losing that is half the story—
And later on he tried a fall
With Fate, in things less transitory.
He lost his heart—and found it dead—
(His one and only true discovery),
And after that he lost his head,
And lost his chances of recovery.
(His one and only true discovery),
And after that he lost his head,
And lost his chances of recovery.
He lost his honour bit by bit
Until the thing was out of question.
He worried so at losing it,
He lost his sleep and his digestion.
Until the thing was out of question.
He worried so at losing it,
He lost his sleep and his digestion.
He lost his temper—and for good—
The remnants of his reputation,
His taste in wine, his choice of food,
And then, in rapid culmination,
The remnants of his reputation,
His taste in wine, his choice of food,
And then, in rapid culmination,
III
SONGS
NOËL
I
On a winter’s night long time ago
(The bells ring loud and the bells ring low),
When high howled wind, and down fell snow
(Carillon, Carilla).
Saint Joseph he and Nostre Dame,
Riding on an ass, full weary came
From Nazareth into Bethlehem.
And the small child Jesus smile on you.
(The bells ring loud and the bells ring low),
When high howled wind, and down fell snow
(Carillon, Carilla).
Saint Joseph he and Nostre Dame,
Riding on an ass, full weary came
From Nazareth into Bethlehem.
And the small child Jesus smile on you.
II
And Bethlehem inn they stood before
(The bells ring less and the bells ring more),
The landlord bade them begone from his door
(Carillon, Carilla).
“Poor folk” (says he), “must lie where they may,
For the Duke of Jewry comes this way,
With all his train on a Christmas Day.”
And the small child Jesus smile on you.
(The bells ring less and the bells ring more),
The landlord bade them begone from his door
(Carillon, Carilla).
“Poor folk” (says he), “must lie where they may,
For the Duke of Jewry comes this way,
With all his train on a Christmas Day.”
And the small child Jesus smile on you.
III
Poor folk that may my carol hear
(The bells ring single and the bells ring clear),
See! God’s one child had hardest cheer!
(Carillon, Carilla).
Men grown hard on a Christmas morn;
The dumb beast by and a babe forlorn.
It was very, very cold when our Lord was born.
And the small child Jesus smile on you.
(The bells ring single and the bells ring clear),
See! God’s one child had hardest cheer!
(Carillon, Carilla).
Men grown hard on a Christmas morn;
The dumb beast by and a babe forlorn.
It was very, very cold when our Lord was born.
And the small child Jesus smile on you.
IV
THE BIRDS
When Jesus Christ was four years old,
The angels brought Him toys of gold,
Which no man ever had bought or sold.
The angels brought Him toys of gold,
Which no man ever had bought or sold.
And yet with these He would not play.
He made Him small fowl out of clay,
And blessed them till they flew away:
Tu creasti Domine.
He made Him small fowl out of clay,
And blessed them till they flew away:
Tu creasti Domine.
IN A BOAT
Lady! Lady!
Upon Heaven-height,
Above the harsh morning
In the mere light.
Upon Heaven-height,
Above the harsh morning
In the mere light.
Above the spindrift
And above the snow,
Where no seas tumble,
And no winds blow.
And above the snow,
Where no seas tumble,
And no winds blow.
The twisting tides,
And the perilous sands
Upon all sides
Are in your holy hands.
And the perilous sands
Upon all sides
Are in your holy hands.
The wind harries
And the cold kills;
But I see your chapel
Over far hills.
And the cold kills;
But I see your chapel
Over far hills.
Mother of Christ,
And Mother of me,
Save me alive
From the howl of the sea.
And Mother of me,
Save me alive
From the howl of the sea.
SONG
INVITING THE INFLUENCE OF A YOUNG LADY UPON THE OPENING YEAR
I
You wear the morning like your dress
And are with mastery crowned;
Whenas you walk your loveliness
Goes shining all around.
Upon your secret, smiling way
Such new contents were found,
The Dancing Loves made holiday
On that delightful ground.
And are with mastery crowned;
Whenas you walk your loveliness
Goes shining all around.
Upon your secret, smiling way
Such new contents were found,
The Dancing Loves made holiday
On that delightful ground.
II
THE RING
When I was flying before the King
In the wood of Valognes in my hiding,
Although I had not anything
I sent a woman a golden ring.
In the wood of Valognes in my hiding,
Although I had not anything
I sent a woman a golden ring.
A Ring of the Moors beyond Leon
With emerald and with diamond stone,
And a writing no man ever had known,
And an opal standing all alone.
With emerald and with diamond stone,
And a writing no man ever had known,
And an opal standing all alone.
The shape of the ring the heart to bind:
The emerald turns from cold to kind:
The writing makes her sure to find:—
But the evil opal changed her mind.
The emerald turns from cold to kind:
The writing makes her sure to find:—
But the evil opal changed her mind.
CUCKOO!
In woods so long time bare.
Cuckoo!
Up and in the wood, I know not where
Two notes fall.
Yet I do not envy him at all
His phantasy.
Cuckoo!
I too,
Somewhere,
I have sung as merrily as he
Who can dare,
Small and careless lover, so to laugh at care,
And who
Can call
Cuckoo!
In woods of winter weary,
In scented woods, of winter weary, call
Cuckoo!
In woods so long time bare.
Cuckoo!
Up and in the wood, I know not where
Two notes fall.
Yet I do not envy him at all
His phantasy.
Cuckoo!
I too,
Somewhere,
I have sung as merrily as he
Who can dare,
Small and careless lover, so to laugh at care,
And who
Can call
Cuckoo!
In woods of winter weary,
In scented woods, of winter weary, call
Cuckoo!
In woods so long time bare.
THE LITTLE SERVING MAID
I
There was a Queen of England,
And a good Queen too.
She had a house in Powis Land
With the Severn running through;
And Men-folk and Women-folk
Apprenticed to a trade;
But the prettiest of all
Was a Little Serving Maid.
And a good Queen too.
She had a house in Powis Land
With the Severn running through;
And Men-folk and Women-folk
Apprenticed to a trade;
But the prettiest of all
Was a Little Serving Maid.
II
III
“Oh fie to you and shame to you,
You Little Serving Maid!
And are you not astonied?
And are you not afraid?
For never was it known
Since Yngelonde began
That a Little Serving Maid
Should go a-meeting of a man!
You Little Serving Maid!
And are you not astonied?
And are you not afraid?
For never was it known
Since Yngelonde began
That a Little Serving Maid
Should go a-meeting of a man!
IV
Then the Little Serving Maid
She went and laid her down,
With her cross and her bede,
In her new courting gown.
And she called in Mother Mary’s name
And heavily she sighed:
“I think that I have come to shame!”
And after that she died.
She went and laid her down,
With her cross and her bede,
In her new courting gown.
And she called in Mother Mary’s name
And heavily she sighed:
“I think that I have come to shame!”
And after that she died.
V
VI
AUVERGNAT
There was a man was half a clown
(It’s so my father tells of it).
He saw the church in Clermont town
And laughed to hear the bells of it.
(It’s so my father tells of it).
He saw the church in Clermont town
And laughed to hear the bells of it.
He laughed to hear the bells that ring
In Clermont Church and round of it;
He heard the verger’s daughter sing,
And loved her for the sound of it.
In Clermont Church and round of it;
He heard the verger’s daughter sing,
And loved her for the sound of it.
The verger’s daughter said him nay;
She had the right of choice in it.
He left the town at break of day:
He hadn’t had a voice in it.
She had the right of choice in it.
He left the town at break of day:
He hadn’t had a voice in it.
DRINKING SONG
ON THE EXCELLENCE OF BURGUNDY WINE
My jolly fat host with your face all a-grin,
Come, open the door to us, let us come in.
A score of stout fellows who think it no sin
If they toast till they’re hoarse, and they drink till they spin,
Hoofed it amain,
Rain or no rain,
To crack your old jokes, and your bottles to drain.
Come, open the door to us, let us come in.
A score of stout fellows who think it no sin
If they toast till they’re hoarse, and they drink till they spin,
Hoofed it amain,
Rain or no rain,
To crack your old jokes, and your bottles to drain.
Such a warmth in the belly that nectar begets
As soon as his guts with its humour he wets,
The miser his gold, and the student his debts,
And the beggar his rags and his hunger forgets.
For there’s never a wine
Like this tipple of thine
From the great hill of Nuits to the River of Rhine.
As soon as his guts with its humour he wets,
The miser his gold, and the student his debts,
And the beggar his rags and his hunger forgets.
For there’s never a wine
Like this tipple of thine
From the great hill of Nuits to the River of Rhine.
DRINKING DIRGE
A thousand years ago I used to dine
In houses where they gave me such regale
Of dear companionship and comrades fine
That out I went alone beyond the pale;
And riding, laughed and dared the skies malign
To show me all the undiscovered tale—
But my philosophy’s no more divine,
I put my pleasure in a pint of ale.
In houses where they gave me such regale
Of dear companionship and comrades fine
That out I went alone beyond the pale;
And riding, laughed and dared the skies malign
To show me all the undiscovered tale—
But my philosophy’s no more divine,
I put my pleasure in a pint of ale.
And you, my friends, oh! pleasant friends of mine,
Who leave me now alone, without avail,
On Californian hills you gave me wine,
You gave me cider-drink in Longuevaille;
If after many years you come to pine
For comradeship that is an ancient tale—
You’ll find me drinking beer in Dead Man’s Chine.
I put my pleasure in a pint of ale.
Who leave me now alone, without avail,
On Californian hills you gave me wine,
You gave me cider-drink in Longuevaille;
If after many years you come to pine
For comradeship that is an ancient tale—
You’ll find me drinking beer in Dead Man’s Chine.
I put my pleasure in a pint of ale.
In many a briny boat I’ve tried the brine,
From many a hidden harbour I’ve set sail,
Steering towards the sunset where there shine
The distant amethystine islands pale.
From many a hidden harbour I’ve set sail,
Steering towards the sunset where there shine
The distant amethystine islands pale.
There are no ports beyond the far sea-line,
Nor any halloa to meet the mariner’s hail;
I stand at home and slip the anchor-line.
I put my pleasure in a pint of ale.
Nor any halloa to meet the mariner’s hail;
I stand at home and slip the anchor-line.
I put my pleasure in a pint of ale.
ENVOI
WEST SUSSEX DRINKING SONG
They sell good Beer at Haslemere
And under Guildford Hill.
At Little Cowfold as I’ve been told
A beggar may drink his fill:
There is a good brew in Amberley too,
And by the bridge also;
But the swipes they take in at Washington Inn
Is the very best Beer I know.
And under Guildford Hill.
At Little Cowfold as I’ve been told
A beggar may drink his fill:
There is a good brew in Amberley too,
And by the bridge also;
But the swipes they take in at Washington Inn
Is the very best Beer I know.
Chorus.
With my here it goes, there it goes,
All the fun’s before us:
The Tipple’s Aboard and the night is young,
The door’s ajar and the Barrel is sprung,
I am singing the best song ever was sung
And it has a rousing chorus.
All the fun’s before us:
The Tipple’s Aboard and the night is young,
The door’s ajar and the Barrel is sprung,
I am singing the best song ever was sung
And it has a rousing chorus.
Chorus.
A BALLAD ON SOCIOLOGICAL ECONOMICS
A while ago it came to pass
(Merry we carol it all the day),
There sat a man on the top of an ass
(Heart be happy and carol be gay
In spite of the price of hay).
(Merry we carol it all the day),
There sat a man on the top of an ass
(Heart be happy and carol be gay
In spite of the price of hay).
And over the down they hoofed it so
(Happy go lucky has best of fare),
The man up above and the brute below
(And singing we all forget to care
A man may laugh if he dare).
(Happy go lucky has best of fare),
The man up above and the brute below
(And singing we all forget to care
A man may laugh if he dare).
Over the stubble and round the crop
(Life is short and the world is round),
The donkey beneath and the man on the top
(Oh! let good ale be found, be found,
Merry good ale and sound).
(Life is short and the world is round),
The donkey beneath and the man on the top
(Oh! let good ale be found, be found,
Merry good ale and sound).
HERETICS ALL
Heretics all, whoever you be,
In Tarbes or Nimes, or over the sea,
You never shall have good words from me.
Caritas non conturbat me.
In Tarbes or Nimes, or over the sea,
You never shall have good words from me.
Caritas non conturbat me.
But Catholic men that live upon wine
Are deep in the water, and frank, and fine;
Wherever I travel I find it so,
Benedicamus Domino.
Are deep in the water, and frank, and fine;
Wherever I travel I find it so,
Benedicamus Domino.
On childing women that are forlorn,
And men that sweat in nothing but scorn:
That is on all that ever were born,
Miserere Domine.
And men that sweat in nothing but scorn:
That is on all that ever were born,
Miserere Domine.
HA’NACKER MILL
Sally is gone that was so kindly
Sally is gone from Ha’nacker Hill.
And the Briar grows ever since then so blindly
And ever since then the clapper is still,
And the sweeps have fallen from Ha’nacker Mill
Sally is gone from Ha’nacker Hill.
And the Briar grows ever since then so blindly
And ever since then the clapper is still,
And the sweeps have fallen from Ha’nacker Mill
Ha’nacker Hill is in Desolation:
Ruin a-top and a field unploughed.
And Spirits that call on a fallen nation
Spirits that loved her calling aloud:
Spirits abroad in a windy cloud.
Ruin a-top and a field unploughed.
And Spirits that call on a fallen nation
Spirits that loved her calling aloud:
Spirits abroad in a windy cloud.
TARANTELLA
Do you remember an Inn,
Miranda?
Do you remember an Inn?
And the tedding and the spreading
Of the straw for a bedding,
And the fleas that tease in the High Pyrenees,
And the wine that tasted of the tar?
And the cheers and the jeers of the young muleteers
(Under the vine of the dark verandah)?
Do you remember an Inn, Miranda,
Do you remember an Inn?
And the cheers and the jeers of the young muleteers
Who hadn’t got a penny,
And who weren’t paying any,
And the hammer at the doors and the Din?
And the Hip! Hop! Hap!
Of the clap
Of the hands to the twirl and the swirl
Of the girl gone chancing,
Glancing,
Dancing,
Backing and advancing,
Snapping of the clapper to the spin
Out and in——
And the Ting, Tong, Tang of the Guitar!
Do you remember an Inn,
Miranda?
Do you remember an Inn?
Miranda?
Do you remember an Inn?
And the tedding and the spreading
Of the straw for a bedding,
And the fleas that tease in the High Pyrenees,
And the wine that tasted of the tar?
And the cheers and the jeers of the young muleteers
(Under the vine of the dark verandah)?
Do you remember an Inn, Miranda,
Do you remember an Inn?
And the cheers and the jeers of the young muleteers
Who hadn’t got a penny,
And who weren’t paying any,
And the hammer at the doors and the Din?
And the Hip! Hop! Hap!
Of the clap
Of the hands to the twirl and the swirl
Of the girl gone chancing,
Glancing,
Dancing,
Backing and advancing,
Snapping of the clapper to the spin
Out and in——
And the Ting, Tong, Tang of the Guitar!
Do you remember an Inn,
Miranda?
Do you remember an Inn?
THE CHAUNTY OF THE “NONA”
I
Come list all ye Cullies and Doxies so dear,
You shall hearken to the tale of the Bold Marineer
That took ship out of Holyhead and drove her so hard
Past Bardsey, Pwlheli, Port Madoc, and Fishguard—
Past Bardsey, Pwlheli, Port Madoc, and Fishguard.
You shall hearken to the tale of the Bold Marineer
That took ship out of Holyhead and drove her so hard
Past Bardsey, Pwlheli, Port Madoc, and Fishguard—
Past Bardsey, Pwlheli, Port Madoc, and Fishguard.
II
Then he dropped out of Fishguard on a calm Summer’s day,
By St David’s and Strumbles and across St Bride’s Bay;
Circumnavigating Skomer, that Island, around,
With the heart of a Lion he threaded Jack Sound—
With the heart of a Lion he threaded Jack Sound.
By St David’s and Strumbles and across St Bride’s Bay;
Circumnavigating Skomer, that Island, around,
With the heart of a Lion he threaded Jack Sound—
With the heart of a Lion he threaded Jack Sound.
III
IV
Next morning was a Doldrum, and he whistled for a breeze,
Which came from the N.N.W.’ard all across the high seas;
And in passing St Govan’s lightship he gave them good night,
But before it was morning he raised Lundy Light—
Before it was morning he had raised Lundy Light.
Which came from the N.N.W.’ard all across the high seas;
And in passing St Govan’s lightship he gave them good night,
But before it was morning he raised Lundy Light—
Before it was morning he had raised Lundy Light.
V
Then he tossed for twelve hours in that horrible place
Which is known to the Mariner as the Great White Horse Race,
Till with a slant about three bells, or maybe near four,
He saw white water breaking upon Loud Appledore—
He saw white water breaking upon Loud Appledore.
Which is known to the Mariner as the Great White Horse Race,
Till with a slant about three bells, or maybe near four,
He saw white water breaking upon Loud Appledore—
He saw white water breaking upon Loud Appledore.
VI
THE WINGED HORSE
I
It’s ten years ago to-day you turned me out o’ doors
To cut my feet on flinty lands and stumble down the shores,
And I thought about the all-in-all, oh more than I can tell!
But I caught a horse to ride upon and I rode him very well,
He had flame behind the eyes of him and wings upon his side.
And I ride, and I ride!
To cut my feet on flinty lands and stumble down the shores,
And I thought about the all-in-all, oh more than I can tell!
But I caught a horse to ride upon and I rode him very well,
He had flame behind the eyes of him and wings upon his side.
And I ride, and I ride!
II
III
And once a-top of Lambourne down toward the hill of Clere
I saw the Host of Heaven in rank and Michael with his spear,
And Turpin out of Gascony and Charlemagne the Lord,
And Roland of the marches with his hand upon his sword
For the time he should have need of it, and forty more beside.
And I ride, and I ride!
I saw the Host of Heaven in rank and Michael with his spear,
And Turpin out of Gascony and Charlemagne the Lord,
And Roland of the marches with his hand upon his sword
For the time he should have need of it, and forty more beside.
And I ride, and I ride!
IV
STREPHON’S SONG
(FROM “THE CRUEL SHEPHERDESS”)
When I was not much older
Than Cupid, but bolder,
I asked of his Mother in passing her bower
What it was in their blindness
Men asked of her kindness
And she said it was nought but a delicate flower:
Such a delicate, delicate, delicate flower!
Than Cupid, but bolder,
I asked of his Mother in passing her bower
What it was in their blindness
Men asked of her kindness
And she said it was nought but a delicate flower:
Such a delicate, delicate, delicate flower!
This morning you kissed me,
By noon you dismissed me
As though such great things were the jest of one hour,
And you left me still wondering
If I were not too blundering
To deal with that delicate, delicate flower:
’Tis such a delicate, delicate, delicate flower!
By noon you dismissed me
As though such great things were the jest of one hour,
And you left me still wondering
If I were not too blundering
To deal with that delicate, delicate flower:
’Tis such a delicate, delicate, delicate flower!
IV
BALLADES
SHORT BALLADE AND POSTSCRIPT ON CONSOLS AND BOERS
I
Gigantic daughter of the West
(The phrase is Tennysonian), who
From this unconquerable breast
The vigorous milk of Freedom drew
—We gave it freely—shall the crest
Of Empire in your keeping true,
Shall England—I forget the rest,
But Consols are at 82.
(The phrase is Tennysonian), who
From this unconquerable breast
The vigorous milk of Freedom drew
—We gave it freely—shall the crest
Of Empire in your keeping true,
Shall England—I forget the rest,
But Consols are at 82.
II
III
It serves no purpose to protest,
It isn’t manners to halloo
About the way the thing was messed—
Or vaguely call a man a Jew.
A gentleman who cannot jest
Remarked that we should muddle through
(The continent was much impressed),
And Consols are at 82.
It isn’t manners to halloo
About the way the thing was messed—
Or vaguely call a man a Jew.
A gentleman who cannot jest
Remarked that we should muddle through
(The continent was much impressed),
And Consols are at 82.
Envoi.
And, Botha lay at Pilgrim’s Rest
And Myberg in the Great Karroo
(A desert to the south and west),
And Consols are at 82.
And Myberg in the Great Karroo
(A desert to the south and west),
And Consols are at 82.
Postscript.
Permit me—if you do not mind—
To add it would be screaming fun
If, after printing this, I find
Them after all at 81.
To add it would be screaming fun
If, after printing this, I find
Them after all at 81.
No matter—take no more advice
From doubtful and intriguing men.
Refuse the stuff at any price,
And slowly watch them fall to 10.
From doubtful and intriguing men.
Refuse the stuff at any price,
And slowly watch them fall to 10.
Meanwhile I feel a certain zest
In writing once again the new
Refrain that all is for the best,
And Consols are at 82.
In writing once again the new
Refrain that all is for the best,
And Consols are at 82.
Last Envoi.
BALLADE OF THE UNANSWERED QUESTION
I
What dwelling hath Sir Harland Pott
That died of drinking in Bungay?
Nathaniel Goacher who was shot
Towards the end of Malplaquet?
The only thing that we can say,
(The only thing that has been said)
About these gentlemen is, “Nay!
But where are the unanswering dead”
That died of drinking in Bungay?
Nathaniel Goacher who was shot
Towards the end of Malplaquet?
The only thing that we can say,
(The only thing that has been said)
About these gentlemen is, “Nay!
But where are the unanswering dead”
II
III
And Heliodorus too, that hot
Defender of the Roman sway;
And He, the author of the “Tot
Mercedes dant Victoriæ,”
And all the armoured squadrons gay
That ever glory nourishèd
In all the world’s high charges? Nay!
But where are the unanswering dead?
Defender of the Roman sway;
And He, the author of the “Tot
Mercedes dant Victoriæ,”
And all the armoured squadrons gay
That ever glory nourishèd
In all the world’s high charges? Nay!
But where are the unanswering dead?
Envoi
BALLADE TO OUR LADY OF CZESTOCHOWA
I
Lady and Queen and Mystery manifold
And very Regent of the untroubled sky,
Whom in a dream St Hilda did behold
And heard a woodland music passing by:
You shall receive me when the clouds are high
With evening and the sheep attain the fold.
This is the faith that I have held and hold,
And this is that in which I mean to die.
And very Regent of the untroubled sky,
Whom in a dream St Hilda did behold
And heard a woodland music passing by:
You shall receive me when the clouds are high
With evening and the sheep attain the fold.
This is the faith that I have held and hold,
And this is that in which I mean to die.