Sloven, sullen, savage, secret, uncontrolled-
Laying on a new land evil of the old;

Long-forgotten bondage, dwarfing heart and brainAll our fathers died to loose he shall bind again.

Here is naught at venture, random nor untrue—
Swings the wheel full-circle, brims the cup anew.

Here is naught unproven, here is nothing hid: Step for step and word for word—so the old Kings did!

Step by step and word by word: who is ruled may read.

Suffer not the old Kings-for we know the breed

All the right they promise—all the wrong they bring. Stewards of the Judgment, suffer not this King!

BRIDGE-GUARD IN THE KARROO

"and will supply details to guard the Blood River Bridge." District Orders-Lines of Communication.

SUDDEN the desert changes,

The raw glare softens and clings,
Till the aching Oudtshoorn ranges
Stand up like the thrones of kings-

Ramparts of slaughter and peril-
Blazing, amazing-aglow
'Twixt the skyline's belting beryl
And the wine-dark flats below.

Royal the pageant closes,

Lit by the last of the sun

Opal and ash-of-roses,

Cinnamon, umber, and dun.

Copyright, 1901, by Rudyard Kipling.

The twilight swallows the thicket,
The starlight reveals the ridge;
The whistle shrills to the picket

We are changing guard on the bridge.

(Few, forgotten and lonely,

Where the empty metals shine—

No, not combatants-only

Details guarding the line.)

We slip through the broken panel
Of fence by the ganger's shed;
We drop to the waterless channel
And the lean track overhead;

We stumble on refuse of rations,
The beef and the biscuit-tins;
We take our appointed stations,
And the endless night begins.

We hear the Hottentot herders

As the sheep click past to the foldAnd the click of the restless girders

As the steel contracts in the cold

BRIDGE-GUARD IN THE KARROO

Voices of jackals calling

And, loud in the hush between,

A morsel of dry earth falling

From the flanks of the scarred ravine.

And the solemn firmament marches,

And the hosts of heaven rise
Framed through the iron arches-
Banded and barred by the ties,

Till we feel the far track humming,
And we see her headlight plain,
And we gather and wait her coming-
The wonderful north-bound train.

(Few, forgotten and lonely,

Where the white car-windows shine

No, not combatants-only

Details guarding the line.)

Quick, ere the gift escape us!

Out of the darkness we reach

For a handful of week-old papers
And a mouthful of human speech.

And the monstrous heaven rejoices,
And the earth allows again
Meetings, greetings, and voices
Of women talking with men.

So we return to our places,

As out on the bridge she rolls; And the darkness covers our faces, And the darkness re-enters our souls.

More than a little lonely

Where the lessening tail-lights shine. No-not combatants-only

Details guarding the line!