And the mud boils foul and blue

As the blind bow backs away.

Will they give me their thanks if they clear the banks? (Shoal! 'Ware shoal!) Not they!

The beach-pools cake and skim,

The bursting spray-heads freeze,
I gather on crown and rim

The grey, grained ice of the seas,
Where, sheathed from bitt to trees,

The plunging colliers lie.

Would I barter my place for the Church's grace? (Shoal! 'Ware shoal!) Not I!

Through the blur of the whirling snow,

Or the black of the inky sleet,

The lanterns gather and grow,

And I look for the homeward fleet.
Rattle of block and sheet

"Ready about stand by!"

Shall I ask them a fee ere they fetch the quay? (Shoal! 'Ware shoal!) Not I!

I dip and I surge and I swing
In the rip of the racing tide,
By the gates of doom I sing,
On the horns of death I ride.
A ship-length overside,

Between the course and the sand,

Fretted and bound I bide

Peril whereof I cry.

Would I change with my brother a league inland? (Shoal! 'Ware shoal!) Not I!

66

THE OLD ISSUE

OCTOBER 9, 1899

“HERE is nothing new nor aught unproven," say the

Trumpets,

"Many feet have worn it and the road is old indeed. "It is the King - the King we schooled aforetime!"

(Trumpets in the marshes in the eyot at Runnymede!)

"Here is neither haste, nor hate, nor anger," peal the Trumpets,

"Pardon for his penitence or pity for his fall.

"It is the King!"-inexorable Trumpets

(Trumpets round the scaffold at the dawning by Whitehall!)

"He hath veiled the crown and hid the sceptre," warn the Trumpets,

"He hath changed the fashion of the lies that cloak his will.

"Hard die the Kings - ah hard-dooms hard!" declare the Trumpets,

Trumpets at the gang-plank where the brawling troopdecks fill!

Ancient and Unteachable, abide abide the trumpets! Once again the Trumpets, for the shuddering ground-swell brings

Clamour over ocean of the harsh pursuing TrumpetsTrumpets of the Vanguard that have sworn no truce with Kings!

All we have of freedom, all we use or know

This our fathers bought for us long and long ago.

Ancient Right unnoticed as the breath we draw
Leave to live by no man's leave, underneath the Law.
Lance and torch and tumult, steel and grey-goose wing
Wrenched it, inch and ell and all, slowly from the King.

Till our fathers 'stablished, after bloody years,
How our King is one with us, first among his peers.

So they bought us freedom

not at little cost

Wherefore must we watch the King, lest our gain be lost.

Over all things certain, this is sure indeed,
Suffer not the old King: for we know the breed.

Give no ear to bondsmen bidding us endure,

Whining" He is weak and far "; crying "Time shall cure."

(Time himself is witness, till the battle joins,

Deeper strikes the rottenness in the people's loins.)

Give no heed to bondsmen masking war with peace.
Suffer not the old King here or overseas.

They that beg us barter-wait his yielding mood Pledge the years we hold in trust-pawn our brother's blood

Howso' great their clamour, whatsoe'er their claim,
Suffer not the old King under any name!

Here is naught unproven-here is naught to learn.
It is written what shall fall if the King return.

He shall mark our goings, question whence we came,
Set his guards about us, as in Freedom's name.

He shall take a tribute, toll of all our ware;

He shall change our gold for arms arms we may not bear.

He shall break his Judges if they cross his word;
He shall rule above the Law calling on the Lord.

He shall peep and mutter; and the night shall bring
Watchers 'neath our window, lest we mock the King-

Hate and all division; hosts of hurrying spies;
Money poured in secret, carrion breeding flies.

Strangers of his counsel, hirelings of his pay,
These shall deal our Justice: sell-deny - delay.

We shall drink dishonour, we shall eat abuse
For the Land we look to

for the Tongue we use.

We shall take our station, dirt beneath his feet,
While his hired captains jeer us in the street.

Cruel in the shadow, crafty in the sun,
Far beyond his borders shall his teachings run.

Sloven, sullen, savage, secret, uncontrolled-
Laying on a new land evil of the old;

Long-forgotten bondage, dwarfing heart and brain
All our fathers died to loose he shall bind again.

Here is naught at venture, random nor untrue —
Swings the wheel full-circle, brims the cup anew.

Here is naught unproven, here is nothing hid:

Step for step and word for word-so the old Kings did!

Step by step, and word by word: who is ruled may read. Suffer not the old Kings—for we know the breed

All the right they promise—all the wrong they bring. Stewards of the Judgment, suffer not this King!

THE LESSON

(1899-1902)

LET us admit it fairly, as a business people should,
We have had no end of a lesson: it will do us no end of good.

Not on a single issue, or in one direction or twain,

But conclusively, comprehensively, and several times and again,

Were all our most holy illusions knocked higher than Gilderoy's kite.

We have had a jolly good lesson, and it serves us jolly well

right!

This was not bestowed us under the trees, nor yet in the shade of a tent,

But swingingly, over eleven degrees of a bare brown conti

nent.

From Lamberts to Delagoa Bay, and from Pietersburg to Sutherland,

-

Fell the phenomenal lesson we learned with a fulness accorded no other land.

It was our fault, and our very great fault, and not the judgment of Heaven.

We made an Army in our own image, on an island nine by

seven,

Which faithfully mirrored its makers' ideals, equipment, and mental attitude

And so we got our lesson: and we ought to accept it with gratitude.

We have spent two hundred million pounds to prove the fact

once more,

That horses are quicker than men afoot, since two and two make four: