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"There was never a shame in Christendie They laid not to our door

And ye say we must take the winter sea
And sail with them once more?

'Look South! The gale is scarce o'erpast
That stripped and laid us down,
When we stood forth but they stood fast
And prayed to see us drown.

"The dead they mocked are scarcely cold, Our wounds are bleeding yet


ye tell us now that our strength is sold To help them press for a debt?

''Neath all the flags of all mankind That use upon the seas,

Was there no other fleet to find

That ye strike hands with these?

'Of evil times that men could choose
On evil fate to fall,

What brooding Judgment let ye loose
To pick the worst of all?

'In sight of peace-from the Narrow Seas O'er half the world to run

With a cheated crew, to league anew

With the Goth and the shameless Hun!'



Being a translation of the song that was made by a Mohammedan schoolmaster of Bengal Infantry (some time on service at Suakim) when he heard that the Sirdar was taking money from the English to build a Madrissa for Hubshees-or a college for the Sudanese.


H Hubshee, carry your shoes in your hand and bow your head on your breast!

This is the message of Kitchener who did not

break you in jest.

It was permitted to him to fulfil the long-appointed years; Reaching the end ordained of old over your dead Emirs.

He stamped only before your walls, and the Tomb ye knew was dust.

He gathered up under his armpits all the swords of your trust.

He set a guard on your granaries, securing the weak from the strong:

He said: 'Go work the waterwheels that were abolished so long.'

He said: 'Go safely, being abased. I have accomplished my vow.'

That was the mercy of Kitchener. Cometh his mad

ness now!

He does not desire as ye desire, nor devise as ye devise: He is preparing a second host-an army to make you wise.

Not at the mouth of his clean-lipped guns shall ye learn his name again,

But letter by letter, from Kaf to Kaf, at the mouth of his chosen men.

He has gone back to his own city, not seeking presents or bribes,

But openly asking the English for money to buy you Hakims and scribes.

Knowing that ye are forfeit by battle and have no right to live,

He begs for money to bring you learning-and all the English give.

It is their treasure-it is their pleasure-thus are their hearts inclined:

For Allah created the English mad-the maddest of all mankind!

They do not consider the Meaning of Things; they consult not creed nor clan.

Behold, they clap the slave on the back, and behold, he ariseth a man!

They terribly carpet the earth with dead, and before their cannon cool,

They walk unarmed by twos and threes to call the living to school.

How is this reason (which is their reason) to judge a scholar's worth,

By casting a ball at three straight sticks and defending the same with a fourth?


But this they do (which is doubtless a spell) and other matters more strange,

Until, by the operation of years, the hearts of their scholars change:

Till these make come and go great boats or engines upon the rail

(But always the English watch near by to prop them when they fail);

Till these make laws of their own choice and Judges of their own blood;

And all the mad English obey the Judges and say that the Law is good.

Certainly they were mad from of old: but I think one new thing;

That the magic whereby they work their magic-wherefrom their fortunes spring

May be that they show all peoples their magic and ask no price in return.

Wherefore, since ye are bond to that magic, O Hubshee, make haste and learn!

Certainly also is Kitchener mad. But one sure thing I know

If he who broke you be minded to teach you, to his Madrissa go.

Go, and carry your shoes in your hand and bow your head on your breast,

For he who did not slay you in sport, he will not teach you in jest.


(The Commonwealth of Australia, inaugurated New Year's Day, 1901)

ER hand was still on her sword-hilt, the spur was still on her heel,


She had not cast her harness of gray war-dinted


High on her red-splashed charger, beautiful, bold, and browned,

Bright-eyed out of the battle, the Young Queen rode to be crowned.

She came to the Old Queen's presence, in the Hall of Our Thousand Years

In the Hall of the Five Free Nations that are peers among their peers:

Royal she gave the greeting, loyal she bowed the head, Crying-'Crown me, my Mother!' And the Old Queen stood and said:

'How can I crown thee further? I know whose standard flies

Where the clean surge takes the Leeuwin or the coral

barriers rise.

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