Part 4 (2/2)

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 s.h.i.+p mineselfs tomorrow, 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 pa.s.sed, 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.

AS THE BELL CLINKS

As I left the Halls at Lumley, rose the vision of a comely Maid last season wors.h.i.+pped dumbly, watched with fervor from afar; And I wondered idly, blindly, if the maid would greet me kindly.

That was all--the rest was settled by the clinking tonga-bar.

Yea, my life and hers were coupled by the tonga coupling-bar.

For my misty meditation, at the second changin'-station, Suffered sudden dislocation, fled before the tuneless jar Of a Wagner obbligato, scherzo, doublehand staccato, Played on either pony's saddle by the clacking tonga-bar--

Played with human speech, I fancied, by the jigging, jolting bar.

”She was sweet,” thought I, ”last season, but 'twere surely wild unreason Such tiny hope to freeze on as was offered by my Star, When she whispered, something sadly: 'I--we feel your going badly!'”

”And you let the chance escape you?” rapped the rattling tonga-bar.

”What a chance and what an idiot!” clicked the vicious tonga-bar.

Heart of man--oh, heart of putty! Had I gone by Kakahutti, On the old Hill-road and rutty, I had 'scaped that fatal car.

But his fortune each must bide by, so I watched the milestones slide by, To ”You call on Her tomorrow!”--fugue with cymbals by the bar--

”You must call on Her tomorrow!”--post-horn gallop by the bar.

Yet a further stage my goal on--we were whirling down to Solon, With a double lurch and roll on, best foot foremost, ganz und gar-- ”She was very sweet,” I hinted. ”If a kiss had been imprinted?”-- ”'Would ha' saved a world of trouble!” clashed the busy tonga-bar.

”'Been accepted or rejected!” banged and clanged the tonga-bar.

Then a notion wild and daring, 'spite the income tax's paring, And a hasty thought of sharing--less than many incomes are, Made me put a question private, you can guess what I would drive at.

”You must work the sum to prove it,” clanked the careless tonga-bar.

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