I will reap your fields before you at the hands of a host;
Ye shall glean behind my reapers for the bread that is lost;
And the deer shall be your oxen

On a headland untilled,

For the Karela, the bitter Karela,
Shall leaf where ye build!

I have untied against you the club-footed vines—
I have sent in the Jungle to swamp out your lines!
The trees-the trees are on you!

The house-beams shall fall,
And the Karela, the bitter Karela,
Shall cover you all!

ROMULUS AND REMUS

OH, LITTLE did the Wolf-Child care-
When first he planned his home,

What city should arise and bear
The weight and state of Rome.

A shiftless, westward-wandering tramp,
Checked by the Tiber flood,
He reared a wall around his camp
Of uninspired mud.

But when his brother leaped the Wall
And mocked its height and make,
He guessed the future of it all

And slew him for its sake.

Swift was the blow-swift as the thought

Which showed him in that hour

How unbelief may bring to naught

The early steps of Power.

Forseeing Time's imperilled hopes
Of Glory, Grace, and Love-
All singers, Cæsars, artists, Popes-
Would fail if Remus throve,

He sent his brother to the Gods,
And, when the fit was o'er,
Went on collecting turves and clods.
To build the Wall once more!

CHAPTER HEADINGS

THE JUNGLE BOOKS

NOW Chil the Kite brings home the night
That Mang the Bat sets free-

The herds are shut in byre and hut
For loosed till dawn are we.

This is the hour of pride and power,

Talon and tush and claw.

Oh hear the call!-Good hunting all
That keep the Jungle Law!

Mowgli's Brothers.

His spots are the joy of the Leopard: his horns are the Buf

falo's pride.

Be clean, for the strength of the hunter is known by the gloss of his hide.

If ye find that the bullock can toss you, or the heavy-browed Sambhur can gore;

Ye need not stop work to inform us. We knew it ten seasons

before.

Oppress not the cubs of the stranger, but hail them as Sister and Brother,

For though they are little and fubsy, it may be the Bear is their mother.

"There is none like to me!" says the Cub in the pride of his earliest kill;

But the Jungle is large and the Cub he is small. Let him think and be still.

Kaa's Hunting.

The stream is shrunk-the pool is dry,
And we be comrades, thou and I;
With fevered jowl and dusty flank
Each jostling each along the bank;
And, by one drouthy fear made still,
Foregoing thought of quest or kill.
Now 'neath his dam the fawn may see,
The lean Pack-wolf as cowed as he,
And the tall buck, unflinching, note
The fangs that tore his father's throat.
The pools are shrunk—the streams are dry,
And we be playmates, thou and I,
Till yonder cloud-Good Hunting!-loose
The rain that breaks our Water Truce.

How Fear Came.

What of the hunting, hunter bold?
Brother, the watch was long and cold.
What of the quarry ye went to kill?
Brother, he crops in the jungle still.
Where is the power that made your pride?
Brother, it ebbs from my flank and side.
Where is the haste that ye hurry by?

Brother, I go to my lair to die!

"Tiger-Tiger!"

Veil them, cover them, wall them round-
Blossom, and creeper, and weed-

Let us forget the sight and the sound,

The smell and the touch of the breed!

Fat black ash by the altar-stone,

Here is the white-foot rain,

And the does bring forth in the fields unsown,
And none shall affright them again;

And the blind walls crumble, unknown, o'erthrown,
And none shall inhabit again!

Letting in the Jungle.

These are the Four that are never content, that have never been filled since the Dews began

Jacala's mouth, and the glut of the Kite, and the hands of the Ape, and the Eyes of Man.

The King's Ankus.

For our white and our excellent nights-for the nights of swift running,

Fair ranging, far-seeing, good hunting, sure cunning! For the smells of the dawning, untainted, ere dew has de

parted!

For the rush through the mist, and the quarry blind-started! For the cry of our mates when the sambhur has wheeled and is standing at bay!

For the risk and the riot of night!

For the sleep at the lair-mouth by day!

It is met, and we go to the fight.
Bay! O bay!

Red Dog.

Man goes to Man! Cry the challenge through the Jungle!

He that was our Brother goes away.

Hear, now, and judge, O ye People of the Jungle,—
Answer, who can turn him-who shall stay?

Man goes to Man!
He that was our Brother sorrows sore!

He is weeping in the Jungle:

Man goes to Man!

(Oh, we loved him in the Jungle!)

To the Man-Trail where we may not follow more.
The Spring Running.

At the hole where he went in

Red-Eye called to Wrinkle-Skin.
Hear what little Red-Eye saith:

"Nag, come up and dance with death!"

Eye to eye and head to head,

(Keep the measure, Nag.)

This shall end when one is dead;

(At thy pleasure, Nag.)

Turn for turn and twist for twist

(Run and hide thee, Nag.)

Hah! The hooded Death has missed!

(Woe betide thee, Nag !)

"Rikki-Tikki-Tavi."

Oh! hush thee, my baby, the night is behind us,
And black are the waters that sparkled so green.
The moon, o'er the combers, looks downward to find us
At rest in the hollows that rustle between.

Where billow meets billow, then soft be thy pillow;
Ah, weary wee flipperling, curl at thy ease!

The storm shall not wake thee, nor shark overtake thee,
Asleep in the arms of the slow-swinging seas.

The White Seal.

You mustn't swim till you're six weeks old,
Or your head will be sunk by your heels;
And summer gales and Killer Whales
Are bad for baby seals.