Rhymes of the East and Re-collected Verses | Page 3

around,?And with cold deliberation laid him down upon the ground!
ODE TO THE TIME-GUN OF GURRUMBAD
[Time-guns are of invariable pattern and extreme antiquity. Other species come and go; their ancestor remains always. One is to be found in each cantonment: he generally occupies a position of unsheltered and pathetic loneliness in a corner of the local parade-ground. The writer has never seen one herded in the Gun-park with his kind.]
Strong scion of the sturdy past?When simpler methods ruled the fray,?At whose demoralising blast?The stoutest foe recoiled aghast,
How fall'n art thou to-day!
Thy power the little children mock;?Thy voice, that shook the serried line,?But supplements the morning cock?At--roughly speaking--one o'clock,
And--broadly--half-past nine.
(Saving when THOMAS' deep employ?Th' attendant closing hour postpones,?And he, the undefeated boy,?To gain a temporary joy,
Hath stuffed thee up with stones.)
Thy kindred of a mushroom 'Mark,'?Young guns, intolerably spruce,?Have cast thee from the social 'park';?Which, to their humbled patriarch,
Must be the very deuce.
Their little toils with leisure crowned,?They, in their turn, will seek the Vale?Of Rest that thou hast never found;?What wonder if thy daily Round
Is very like a Wail?
Yet many love thee. Though his clutch?Be heavy, Time doth still afford?That fine consolatory touch--?It hardly seems to go for much,
But cannot be ignored.
For him that braves the midday fare?Thou hast the immemorial task?Of booming forth at one--or thereabouts?--which saves the wear and tear
Of yelling out to ask.
So, when athwart the glooming flats?Thy hoarse, nocturnal whispers stray--?Much to the horror of the bats--?We're one day nearer home, and that's
A comfort, anyway!
Then courage! Guns may come and go,?But him alone we hold divine?Whose task it is to let us know?The hours of one o'clock--or so--
And--roundly--half-past nine.
OMAR OUT OF DATE
BY A RENEGADE DISCIPLE
Wake! for Reveill��e scatters into flight?The flagging Rearguard of a ruined Night,
And hark! the meagre Champion of the Roost?Has flung a matins to the Throne of Light.
Here, while the first beam smites the sullen Sky,?With silent feet Hajam comes stealing nigh,
Bearing the Brush, the Vessel, and the Blade,?These sallow cheeks of mine to scarify.
How often, oh, how often have I sworn?Myself myself to shave th' ensuing Morn!
And then--and then comes Guest-night, and Hajam?Appears unbidden, and is gladly borne.
Come, fill the Cup! The nerve-restoring Ti?Shall woo me with the Leaf of far Bohi;
What matter that to some the Koko makes?Appeal, to some the Cingalese Kofi?
For in a minute Toil, that ever thrives,?Awaits me with her Shackles and her Gyves,
And ever crieth Folly in the streets:?'To work! for needs ye must when Shaitan drives.'
Alas! that I did yesternight disport?With certain fellows of the baser Sort,
Unheedful of the living consequence?When Drinks are long, and Pockets all too short!
With them the game of Poka did I play,?And in wild session turned the Night to Day;
And many a Chip I dropped upon the Board,?And many a Moistener poured upon the Clay.
I put my Pile against th' Improbable,?And with a Full Hand thought to make it swell;
And this was all the Profit that I reaped:?A Full of Kings is Heaven--and Fours are Hell!
Then to the Mountain Dew I turned to seek
New courage for the Vengeance I should wreak;?And once again came Fours, again the Flesh?Was willing, and the Spirits far from weak.

_O Friend of pseudo-philosophic Calm,?Who found within the Cup a life's Aram,
Thy counsel, howsoever fair to read,?Were passing bad to follow, friend Khayyam!_
_Was it not Suleiman the Wise that said:?Look not upon the Wine when it is red?
And Suleiman the Wise knew What was Which,?Though that great Heart of his outmatched his Head!_

Ah! with the Pledge a Door of Refuge ope?To wean my footsteps from the facile Slope,
And write me down, fulfilled of Self-esteem,?A Prop and Pillar of the Band of Hope;
That in the Club, should whilom Comrades try?To lure me to a Roister on the sly,
The necessary Zeal I may not lack?To turn away, nor wink the Other Eye!
ODE
ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF EVER GETTING TO THE HILLS
_After T. G._
Ye distant Hills, ye smiling glades,
In decent foliage drest,?Where green Sylvanus proudly shades
The Sirkar's haughty crest,?And ye, that in your wider reign?Like bold adventurers disdain
The limit set for common clay,?Whose luck, whose pen, whose power of song,?Distinguish from the vulgar throng
To walk the flowery way:
Ah happy Hills! Ah genial sky!
Ah Goal where all would end!?Where once, and only once, did I
Go largely on the bend;?E'en now the tales that from ye flow?A fragmentary bliss bestow,
Till, once again a doedal boy,?In dreaming dimly of the first?I seem to take a second burst,
And snatch a tearful joy.
But tell me, Jakko, dost thou see
The same old sprightly crew?Disport with unembarrassed glee,
As we were wont to do??What youth, in brazen armour cased,?With pliant arm the yielding waist
To arduous dalliance ensnares??Who, foremost of his peers, exalts?The labours of the devious waltz
By sitting out the squares?
Does Prudence, gentle Matron, force
On Folly in her 'teens?The value of a stalking-horse
When hunting Rank and Means??And is the