MY FATHER'S CHAIR

HERE are four good legs to my Father's Chair-
Priest and People and Lords and Crown.

TH

I sit on all of 'em fair and square,

And that is the reason it don't break down.

I won't trust one leg, nor two, nor three,
To carry my weight when I sit me down,
I want all four of 'em under me-

Priest and People and Lords and Crown.

I sit on all four and I favour none-
Priest, nor People, nor Lords, nor Crown-
And I never tilt in my chair, my son,

And that is the reason it don't break down!

When your time comes to sit in my Chair,
Remember your Father's habits and rules,
Sit on all four legs, fair and square,

And never be tempted by one-legged stools!

'OUR FATHERS OF OLD'

'XCELLENT herbs had our fathers of old

E

Excellent herbs to ease their pain-
Alexanders and Marigold,

Eyebright, Orris, and Elecampane.

Basil, Rocket, Valerian, Rue

(Almost singing themselves they run), Vervain, Dittany, Call-me-to-you— Cowslip, Melilot, Rose of the Sun.

Anything green that grew out of the mould
Was an excellent herb to our fathers of old.

Wonderful tales had our fathers of old-
Wonderful tales of the herbs and the stars-
The Sun was Lord of the Marigold,
Basil and Rocket belonged to Mars.
Pat as a sum in division it goes-
(Every plant had a star bespoke)—
Who but Venus should govern the Rose?
Who but Jupiter own the Oak?

Simply and gravely the facts are told

In the wonderful books of our fathers of old.

Wonderful little, when all is said,

Wonderful little our fathers knew.

Half their remedies cured you dead

Most of their teaching was quite untrue

'Look at the stars when a patient is ill
(Dirt has nothing to do with disease),
Bleed and blister as much as you will,
Blister and bleed him as oft as you please.'
Whence enormous and manifold

Errors were made by our fathers of old.

Yet when the sickness was sore in the land,
And neither planets nor herbs assuaged,
They took their lives in their lancet-hand

And, oh, what a wonderful war they waged!
Yes, when the crosses were chalked on the door-
(Yes, when the terrible dead-cart rolled),
Excellent courage our fathers bore—
Excellent heart had our fathers of old.
None too learned, but nobly bold
Into the fight went our fathers of old.

If it be certain, as Galen says,

And sage Hippocrates holds as much-
"That those afflicted by doubts and dismays
Are mightily helped by a dead man's touch,'
Then, be good to us, stars above!

Then, be good to us, herbs below!
We are afflicted by what we can prove,
We are distracted by what we know.
So-ah, so!

Down from your heaven or up from your mould,
Send us the hearts of our fathers of old!

BEFORE EDGEHILL

October, 1642

AKED and gray the Cotswolds stand
Beneath the autumn sun,

And the stubble fields on either hand
Where Stour and Avon run,

There is no change in the patient land
That has bred us every one.

She should have passed in cloud and fire
And saved us from this sin

Of war-red war-'twixt child and sire,
Household and kith and kin,

In the heart of a sleepy Midland shire,
With the harvest scarcely in.

But there is no change as we meet at last
On the brow-head or the plain,

And the raw astonished ranks stand fast
To slay or to be slain

By the men they knew in the kindly past That shall never come again

By the men they met at dance or chase, In the tavern or the hall,

At the justice-bench and the market-place,

At the cudgel-play or brawl,

Of their own blood and speech and race,
Comrades or neighbours all!

More bitter than death this day must prove Whichever way it go,

For the brothers of the maids we love

Make ready to lay low

Their sisters' sweethearts, as we move
Against our dearest foe.

Thank Heaven! At last the trumpets peal
Before our strength gives way.
For King or for the Commonweal
No matter which they say,

The first dry rattle of new-drawn steel
Changes the world to-day!