THE BALLAD OF FISHER'S BOARDING-HOUSE

That night, when through the mooring-chains
The wide-eyed corpse rolled free,

To blunder down by Garden Reach
And rot at Kedgeree,

The tale the Hughli told the shoal
The lean shoal told to me.

WAS Fultah Fisher's boarding-house,
Where sailor-men reside,

And there were men of all the ports

From Mississip to Clyde,

And regally they spat and smoked,
And fearsomely they lied.

They lied about the purple Sea

That gave them scanty bread,
They lied about the Earth beneath,
The Heavens overhead,

For they had looked too often on
Black rum when that was red.

They told their tales of wreck and wrong,
Of shame and lust and fraud,

They backed their toughest statements with
The Brimstone of the Lord,

And crackling oaths went to and fro

Across the fist-banged board.

And there was Hans the blue-eyed Dane,

Bull-throated, bare of arm,

Who carried on his hairy chest

The maid Ultruda's charmThe little silver crucifix

That keeps a man from harm.

And there was Jake Without-the-Ears,
And Pamba the Malay,

And Carboy Gin the Guinea cook,
And Luz from Vigo Bay,

And Honest Jack who sold them slops

And harvested their

pay.

And there was Salem Hardieker,

A lean Bostonian he

Russ, German, English, Halfbreed, Finn,

Yank, Dane, and Portugee,

At Fultah Fisher's boarding-house

They rested from the sea.

Now Anne of Austria shared their drinks,

Collinga knew her fame,

From Tarnau in Galicia

To Jaun Bazar she came,

To eat the bread of infamy

And take the wage of shame.

She held a dozen men to heel-
Rich spoil of war was hers,

In hose and gown and ring and chain,

From twenty mariners,

And, by Port Law, that week, men called Her Salem Hardieker's.

THE BALLAD OF FISHER'S BOARDING-HOUSE

But seamen learnt-what landsmen know

That neither gifts nor gain

Can hold a winking Light o' Love

Or Fancy's flight restrain,

When Anne of Austria rolled her eyes

On Hans the blue-eyed Dane.

Since Life is strife, and strife means knife,

From Howrah to the Bay,

And he may die before the dawn.
Who liquored out the day,
In Fultah Fisher's boarding-house
We woo while yet we may.

But cold was Hans the blue-eyed Dane,
Bull-throated, bare of arm,

And laughter shook the chest beneath
The maid Ultruda's charm-

The little silver crucifix

That keeps a man from harm.

'You speak to Salem Hardieker,
You was his girl, I know.
I ship mineselfs to-morrow, see,
Und round the Skaw we go,
South, down the Cattegat, by Hjelm,

To Besser in Saro.'

When love rejected turns to hate

All ill betide the man.

'You speak to Salem Hardieker'—

She spoke as woman can.

A scream-a sob-‘He called me-names!'
And then the fray began.

An oath from Salem Hardieker,

A shriek upon the stairs,

A dance of shadows on the wall,

A knife-thrust unawares

And Hans came down, as cattle drop,
Across the broken chairs.

In Anne of Austria's trembling hands
The weary head fell low:-

'I ship mineselfs to-morrow straight
For Besser in Saro;

Und there Ultruda comes to me
At Easter, und I go

'South, down the Cattegat- What's here? There-are-no-lights-to-guide!'

The mutter ceased, the spirit passed.
And Anne of Austria cried
In Fultah Fisher's boarding-house
When Hans the mighty died.

Thus slew they Hans the blue-eyed Dane,
Bull-throated, bare of arm,

But Anne of Austria looted first

The maid Ultruda's charm

The little silver crucifix

That keeps a man from harm.

Α

POSSIBILITIES

Y, lay him 'neath the Simla pine-
A fortnight fully to be missed.
Behold, we lose our fourth at whist,

A chair is vacant where we dine!

His place forgets him; other men

Have bought his ponies, guns, and traps. His fortune is the Great Perhaps And that cool rest-house down the glen,

Whence he shall hear, as spirits may,
Our mundane revel on the height,
Shall watch each flashing 'rickshaw-light
Sweep on to dinner, dance, and play.

Benmore shall woo him to the ball

With lighted rooms and braying band;
And he shall hear and understand

'Dream Faces' better than us all.

For, think you, as the

vapours flee

Across Sanjaolie after rain,

His soul may climb the hill again To each old field of victory.