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Clouds and darkness
Down from the mountain
And broader and brighter
1. MARCHING ALONG
Kentish Sir Byng stood for his King,
Bidding the crop-headed Parliament swing:
And, pressing? a troop unable to stoop Call your companions,
And see the rogues flourish and honest folk
Marched them along, fifty-score strong, 5
Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this Over the margin,
130 After it, follow it,
God for King Charles! Pym and such Follow The Gleam.
carles? To the Devil that prompts 'em their
Cavaliers, up! Lips from the cup,
Hands from the pasty, nor bite take, nor
10 Sunset and evening star,
Till you're And one clear call for me!
CHORUS.-Marching along, fifty-score And may there be no moaning of the bar,
strong, When I put out to sea,
Great-hearted gentlemen, singBut such a tide as moving seems asleep, 5
ing this song! Too full for sound and foam,
| Hampden to hell, and his obsequies' knell When that which drew from out the Serve Hazelrig, Fiennes, and young Harry, boundless deep
as well! Turns again home.
England, good cheer! Rupert is near! 15
Kentish and loyalists, keep we not here, Twilight and evening bell,
Cho.—Marching along, fifty-score And after that the dark!
strong, And may there be no sadness of farewell, Great-hearted gentlemen, singing When I embark;
Then, God for King Charles! Pym and For though from out our bourne of Time
ne his snarls and Place
To the Devil that pricks on such pestilent The flood may bear me far,
carles! I hope to see my Pilot face to face
Hold by the right, you double your might; When I have crossed the bar.
So, onward to Nottingham, fresh for the
Cho.—March we along, fifty-score ROBERT BROWNING (1812-1889)
Great-hearted gentlemen, singing SONG from PIPPA PASSES
II. GIVE A ROUSE
King Charles, and who'll do him right
now? The hillside's dew-pearled;
King Charles, and who 's ripe for fight The lark's on the wing;
5a The snail's on the thorn;
Give a rouse; here's, in hell's despite now,
pressing into service.
2 churls, knaves.
Who gave me the goods that went since? 5
THE LOST LEADER Who raised me the house that sank once? Who helped me to gold I spent since? Just for a handful of silver he left us, Who found me in wine you drank once? Just for a riband to stick in his coatCho.—King Charles, and who'll do him Found the one gift of which fortune bereft right now?
us, King Charles, and who's ripe for
Lost all the others she lets us devote; fight now?
They, with the gold to give, doled him out Give a rouse: here's, in hell's de silver, spite now,
So much was theirs who so little allowed: King Charles!
How all our copper had gone for his serv
ice! To whom used my boy George quaff else, Rags—were they purple, his heart had By the old fool's side that begot him? been proud! For whom did he cheer and laugh else, 15 | We that had loved him so, followed him, While Noll's? damned troopers shot him? honored him, Cho.-King Charles, and who'll do him
Lived in his mild and magnificent eye, 10 right now?
Learned his great language, caught his King Charles, and who's ripe for clear accents, fight now?
Made him our pattern to live and to die! Give a rouse: here's, in hell's de- Shakespeare was of us, Milton was for us, spite now,
✓ Burns, Shelley, were with us,—they King Charles!
watch from their graves!
He alone breaks from the van and the freeIII. BOOT AND SADDLE
15 Boot, saddle, to horse and away!
-He alone sinks to the rear and the Rescue my castle before the hot day
slaves! Brightens to blue from its silvery gray. Cho.-Boot, saddle, to horse and away!
1! We shall march prospering,—not through W
his presence; Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say; Songs may inspirit us,-not from his lyre; Many's the friend there, will listen and Deeds will be done,—while he boasts his pray
quiescence, “God's luck to gallants that strike up the Still bidding crouch whom the rest bade lay
20 CHO_Boot saddle to horse and | Blot out his name, then, record one lost away!'
One task more declined, one more footForty miles off, like a roebuck at bay,
path untrod, Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads' | One more devil's-triumph and sorrow for array:
10 angels, Who laughs, “Good fellows ere this, by One wrong more to man, one more insult my fay,
to God! Cho.-Boot, saddle, to horse, and
Life's night begins: let him never come away!”
back to us!
There would be doubt, hesitation and Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest pain, and gay,
Forced praise on our part-the glimmer of Laughs when you talk of surrendering, twilight, “Nay!
Never glad confident morning again! I've better counsellors; what counsel they? | Best fight on well, for we taught himCho.-Boot, saddle, to horse, and
strike gallantly, away!”
Menace our heart ere we master his 1 supplied me with.
: Oliver Cromwell's.
Then let him receive the new knowledge With resolute shoulders, each butting and wait us,
away Pardoned in heaven, the first by the The haze, as some bluff river headland its throne!
And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back
25 HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD | For my voice, and the other pricked out NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX
on his track;
And one eye's black intelligence, 4ever I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he; that glance I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all O'er its white edge at me, his own master, three;
askance! "Good speed!” cried the watch, as the | And the thick heavy spume-flakes which gate-bolts undrew;
aye and anon
29 "Speed!” echoed the wall to us galloping His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on.
through; Behind shut the postern, the lights sank By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried to rest,
Joris, “Stay spur! And into the midnight we galloped abreast. Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's
not in her. Not a word to each other; we kept the We'll remember at Aix”—for one heard great pace
the quick wheeze Neck by neck, stride by stride, never Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and changing our place;
staggering knees, I turned in my saddle and made its And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the girths tight,
35 Then shortened each stirrup, and set the As down on her haunches she shuddered pique' right,
and sank. Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit,
So, we were left galloping, Joris and I, Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit. Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in
the sky; 'Twas moonset at starting; but while The broad sun above laughed a pitiless we drew near
I laugh, Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight | ’Neath our feet broke the brittle bright dawned clear;
stubble like chaff; At Boom, a great yellow star came out | Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang to see;
15 white, At Düffeld, 'twas morning as plain as | And “Gallop,” gasped Joris, "for Aix is in could be;
sight!" And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half-chime,
“How they'll greet us!”—and all in a So Joris broke silence with, “Yet there moment his roan is time!”
Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a
stone; At Aershot, up leaped of a sudden the sun, | And there was my Roland to bear the And against him the cattle stood black whole weight
45 every one,
Of the news which alone could save Aix To stare through the mist at us gallop I from her fate, ing past,
With his nostrils like pits full of blood And I saw my stout galloper Roland at to the brim,
And with circles of red for his eye-sockets’ peak, pommel.
Then I cast loose my buffcoat, each SOLILOQUY OF THE SPANISH holster let fall,
CLOISTER Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all,
50 Gr-r-r—there go, my heart's abhorrence! Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted Water your damned flower-pots, do! his ear,
If hate killed men, Brother Lawrence, Called my Roland his pet-name, my God's blood, would not mine kill you! horse without peer;
What? your myrtle-bush wants trimming? Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, Oh, that rose has prior claims- 6 any noise, bad or good,
Needs its leaden vase filled brimming? Till at length into Aix Roland galloped Hell dry you up with its flames! and stood.
At the meal we sit together: And all I remember is—friends flocking
Salve tibi! I must hear round
55 Wise talk of the kind of weather, As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on Sort of season, time of year: the ground;
Not a plenteous cork-crop: scarcely And no voice but was praising this Roland
Dare we hope oak-galls, I doubt: of mine,
What's the Latin name for "parsley”? 15 As I poured down his throat our last What's the Greek name for Swine's
measure of wine, Whicmeasure of
Snout? Which (the burgesses voted by common consent)
Whew! We'll have our platter burnished, Was no more than his due who brought
| Laid with care on our own shelf! good news from Ghent.
With a fire-new spoon we're furnished,
And a goblet for ourself,
Ere 'tis fit to touch our chaps-
Marked with L for our initial!
(He-he! There his lily snaps!)
Saint, forsooth! While brown Dolores 25 In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
Squats outside the Convent bank
With Sanchicha, telling stories,
Steeping tresses in the tank,
Blue-black, lustrous, thick like horse-hairs, Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
-Can't I see his dead eye glow, 30 Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
Bright as 'twere a Barbary corsair's? A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
(That is, if he'd let it show!) And blue spurt of a lighted match, 10 And a voice less loud, through its joys
When he finishes refection, and fears,
Knife and fork he never lays
As do I, in Jesu's praise.
Drinking watered orange-pulp
While he drains his at one gulp.
We're to have a feast! so nice!