Part 12 (2/2)

The Service admits not a ”but” or and ”if.”

While the breath's in his mouth, he must bear without fail, In the Name of the Empress, the Overland Mail.

From aloe to rose-oak, from rose-oak to fir, From level to upland, from upland to crest, From rice-field to rock-ridge, from rock-ridge to spur, Fly the soft sandalled feet, strains the brawny brown chest.

From rail to ravine--to the peak from the vale-- Up, up through the night goes the Overland Mail.

There's a speck on the hillside, a dot on the road-- A jingle of bells on the foot-path below-- There's a scuffle above in the monkey's abode-- The world is awake, and the clouds are aglow.

For the great Sun himself must attend to the hail: ”In the name of the Empress the Overland Mail!”

WHAT THE PEOPLE SAID June 21st, 1887

By the well, where the bullocks go Silent and blind and slow-- By the field where the young corn dies In the face of the sultry skies, They have heard, as the dull Earth hears The voice of the wind of an hour, The sound of the Great Queen's voice: ”My G.o.d hath given me years, Hath granted dominion and power: And I bid you, O Land, rejoice.”

And the ploughman settles the share More deep in the grudging clod; For he saith: ”The wheat is my care, And the rest is the will of G.o.d.

He sent the Mahratta spear As He sendeth the rain, And the Mlech, in the fated year, Broke the spear in twain.

And was broken in turn. Who knows How our Lords make strife?

It is good that the young wheat grows, For the bread is Life.”

Then, far and near, as the twilight drew, Hissed up to the scornful dark Great serpents, blazing, of red and blue, That rose and faded, and rose anew.

That the Land might wonder and mark ”Today is a day of days,” they said, ”Make merry, O People, all!”

And the Ploughman listened and bowed his head: ”Today and tomorrow G.o.d's will,” he said, As he trimmed the lamps on the wall.

”He sendeth us years that are good, As He sendeth the dearth, He giveth to each man his food, Or Her food to the Earth.

Our Kings and our Queens are afar-- On their peoples be peace-- G.o.d bringeth the rain to the Bar, That our cattle increase.”

And the Ploughman settled the share More deep in the sun-dried clod: ”Mogul Mahratta, and Mlech from the North, And White Queen over the Seas-- G.o.d raiseth them up and driveth them forth As the dust of the ploughshare flies in the breeze; But the wheat and the cattle are all my care, And the rest is the will of G.o.d.”

THE UNDERTAKER'S HORSE

”To-tschin-shu is condemned to death.

How can he drink tea with the Executioner?”

j.a.panese Proverb.

The eldest son bestrides him, And the pretty daughter rides him, And I meet him oft o' mornings on the Course; And there kindles in my bosom An emotion chill and gruesome As I canter past the Undertaker's Horse.

Neither s.h.i.+es he nor is restive, But a hideously suggestive Trot, professional and placid, he affects; And the cadence of his hoof-beats To my mind this grim reproof beats:-- ”Mend your pace, my friend, I'm coming. Who's the next?”

Ah! stud-bred of ill-omen, I have watched the strongest go--men Of pith and might and muscle--at your heels, Down the plantain-bordered highway, (Heaven send it ne'er be my way!) In a lacquered box and jetty upon wheels.

<script>