Those Four Tremendous Curses
With which mankind is cursed
But a Servant when he Reigneth
Old Agur entered first.

An Handmaid that is Mistress
We need not call upon,

A Fool when he is full of Meat
Will fall asleep anon.

An Odious Woman Married
May bear a babe and mend,
But a Servant when He Reigneth
Is Confusion to the end.

His feet are swift to tumult,
His hands are slow to toil,
His ears are deaf to reason,
His lips are loud in broil.
He knows no use for power
Except to show his might.
He gives no heed to judgment
Unless it prove him right.

Because he served a master
Before his Kingship came,
And hid in all disaster
Behind his master's name,
So, when his Folly opens
The unnecessary hells,

A Servant when He Reigneth

Throws the blame on some one else.

His vows are lightly spoken,

His faith is hard to bind,
His trust is easy broken,
He fears his fellow-kind.

The nearest mob will move him
To break the pledge he gave-
Oh a Servant when He Reigneth
Is more than ever slave!

MACDONOUGH'S SONG

WHETHER the State can loose and bind

In Heaven as well as on Earth:

If it be wiser to kill mankind

Before or after the birth-
These are matters of high concern
Where State-kept schoolmen are;
But Holy State (we have lived to learn)
Endeth in Holy War.

Whether The People be led by the Lord,
Or lured by the loudest throat:
If it be quicker to die by the sword
Or cheaper to die by vote-

These are things we have dealt with once,
(And they will not rise from their grave)
For Holy People, however it runs,

Endeth in wholly Slave.

Whatsoever, for any cause,

Seeketh to take or give,

Power above or beyond the Laws,

Suffer it not to live!

Holy State or Holy King—

Or Holy People's Will

Have no truck with the senseless thing.

Order the guns and kill!

Saying-after-me:—

Once there was The People-Terror gave it birth;
Once there was The People and it made a Hell of Earth.
Earth arose and crushed it. Listen, O ye slain!
Once there was The People-it shall never be again!

"OUR FATHERS OF OLD"

EXCELLENT herbs had our fathers of old-
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 herb had a planet 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!

THE HERITAGE

UR Fathers in a wondrous age,

Ere yet the Earth was small,

Ensured to us an heritage,

And doubted not at all

That we, the children of their heart,
Which then did beat so high,

In later time should play like part
For our posterity.

A thousand years they steadfast built,
To 'vantage us and ours,

The Walls that were a world's despair,
The sea-constraining Towers:

Yet in their midmost pride they knew,
And unto Kings made known,

Not all from these their strength they drew,
Their faith from brass or stone.

Youth's passion, manhood's fierce intent, With age's judgment wise,

They spent, and counted not they spent, At daily sacrifice.

Not lambs alone nor purchased doves

Or tithe of trader's gold

Their lives most dear, their dearer loves, They offered up of old.

Refraining e'en from lawful things,

They bowed the neck to bear The unadorned yoke that brings Stark toil and sternest care. Wherefore through them is Freedom sure; Wherefore through them we stand, From all but sloth and pride secure, In a delightsome land.

Then, fretful, murmur not they gave

So great a charge to keep,

Nor dream that awestruck Time shall save Their labour while we sleep.