Part 10 (1/2)

Now Anne of Austria shared their drinks, Collinga knew her fame, From Tarnau in Galicia To Juan Bazaar 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.

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