THE OLDEST SONG

For before Eve was Lilith.-Old Tale.

"THESE were never your true love's eyes.
Why do you feign that you love them?
You that broke from their constancies,
And the wide calm brows above them!

This was never your true love's speech.
Why do you thrill when you hear it?
You that have ridden out of its reach
The width of the world or near it!

This was never your true love's hair,—
You that chafed when it bound you
Screened from knowledge or shame or care,
In the night that it made around you!"

"All these things I know, I know.

And that's why my heart is breaking!"
"Then what do you gain by pretending so?"
"The joy of an old wound waking."

THE LINER SHE'S A LADY

1894

THE Liner she's a lady, an' she never looks nor 'eedsThe Man-o'-War's 'er 'usband, an' 'e gives 'er all she needs;

But, oh, the little cargo-boats, that sail the wet seas roun', They're just the same as you an' me a-plyin' up an' down!

Plyin' up an' down, Jenny, 'angin' round the Yard,
All the way by Fratton tram down to Portsmouth 'Ard;
Anythin' for business, an' we're growin' old-
Plyin' up an' down, Jenny, waitin' in the cold!

The Liner she's a lady by the paint upon 'er face,
An' if she meets an accident they count it sore disgrace.
The Man-o'-War's 'er 'usband, and 'e 's always 'andy by,
But, oh, the little cargo-boats, they've got to load or die!

The Liner she's a lady, and 'er route is cut an' dried;
The Man-o'-War's 'er 'usband, an' 'e always keeps beside;
But, oh, the little cargo-boats that 'aven't any man,
They've got to do their business first, and make the most they
can!

The Liner she's a lady, and if a war should come,

The Man-o'-War's 'er 'usband, and 'e'd bid 'er stay at home; But, oh, the little cargo-boats that fill with every tide! 'E'd 'ave to up an' fight for them for they are England's pride.

The Liner she's a lady, but if she was n't made, There still would be the cargo-boats for 'ome an' foreign trade.

The Man-o'-War's 'er 'usband, but if we wasn't 'ere,

'E would n't have to fight at all for 'ome an' friends so dear.

'Ome an' friends so dear, Jenny, 'angin' round the Yard, All the way by Fratton tram down to Portsmouth 'Ard; Anythin' for business, an' we're growin' old

'Ome an' friends so dear, Jenny, waitin' in the cold!

THE FIRST CHANTEY

1896

MINE was the woman to me, darkling I found her: Haling her dumb from the camp, held her and bound her.

Hot rose her tribe on our track ere I had proved her;
Hearing her laugh in the gloom, greatly I loved her.

Swift through the forest we ran, none stood to guard us, Few were my people and far; then the flood barred us— Him we call Son of the Sea, sullen and swollen.

Panting we waited the death, stealer and stolen.

Yet ere they came to my lance laid for the slaughter,
Lightly she leaped to a log lapped in the water;

Holding on high and apart skins that arrayed her,

Called she the God of the Wind that He should aid her.

Life had the tree at that word (Praise we the Giver!)
Otter-like left he the bank for the full river.

Far fell their axes behind, flashing and ringing,
Wonder was on me and fear-yet she was singing!

Low lay the land we had left. Now the blue bound us,
Even the Floor of the Gods level around us.

Whisper there was not, nor word, shadow nor showing,
Till the light stirred on the deep, glowing and growing.

Then did He leap to His place flaring from under,
He the Compeller, the Sun, bared to our wonder.
Nay, not a league from our eyes blinded with gazing,
Cleared He the Gate of the World, huge and amazing!

This we beheld (and we live)—the Pit of the Burning!
Then the God spoke to the tree for our returning;
Back to the beach of our flight, fearless and slowly,
Back to our slayers went he: but we were holy.

Men that were hot in that hunt, women that followed,
Babes that were promised our bones, trembled and wallowed.
Over the necks of the Tribe crouching and fawning—
Prophet and priestess we came back from the dawning!

THE LAST CHANTEY

1892

"And there was no more sea”

THUS said the Lord in the Vault above the Cherubim, Calling to the Angels and the Souls in their degree: "Lo! Earth has passed away

On the smoke of Judgment Day.

That Our word may be established shall We gather up

sea?"

Loud sang the souls of the jolly, jolly mariners:

"Plague upon the hurricane that made us furl and flee!

But the war is done between us,

In the deep the Lord hath seen us—

the

Our bones we'll leave the barracout', and God may sink the sea!"

Then said the soul of Judas that betrayèd Him:

"Lord, hast Thou forgotten Thy covenant with me?

How once a year 1 go

To cool me on the floe?

And Ye take my day of mercy if Ye take away the sea.

Then said the soul of the Angel of the Off-shore Wind:

(He that bits the thunder when the bull-mouthed breakers flee):

"I have watch and ward to keep

O'er Thy wonders on the deep,

And Ye take mine honour from me if Ye take away the sea!"

Loud sang the souls of the jolly, jolly mariners:
"Nay, but we were angry, and a hasty folk are we.

If we worked the ship together

Till she foundered in foul weather,

Are we babes that we should clamour for a vengeance on the sea?"

Then said the souls of the slaves that men threw overboard: "Kennelled in the picaroon a weary band were we;

But Thy arm was strong to save,

And it touched us on the wave,

And we drowsed the long tides idle till Thy Trumpets tore the sea."

Then cried the soul of the stout Apostle Paul to God:
"Once we frapped a ship, and she laboured woundily.

There were fourteen score of these,

And they blessed Thee on their knees,

When they learned Thy Grace and Glory under Malta by the sea!"

Loud sang the souls of the jolly, jolly mariners,

Plucking at their harps, and they plucked unhandily: "Our thumbs are rough and tarred,

And the tune is something hard—

May we lift a Deepsea Chantey such as seamen use at sea?"