Songs from Books. Rudyard Kipling

the Down countrie;

      Nor I don't know which I love the most,

      The Weald or the Marsh or the white chalk coast!

      I've buried my heart in a ferny hill,

      Twix' a liddle low shaw an' a great high gill.

      Oh hop-bine yaller an' wood-smoke blue,

      I reckon you'll keep her middling true!

      I've loosed my mind for to out and run

      On a Marsh that was old when Kings begun.

      Oh Romney Level and Brenzett reeds,

      I reckon you know what my mind needs!

      I've given my soul to the Southdown grass,

      And sheep-bells tinkled where you pass.

      Oh Firle an' Ditchling an' sails at sea,

      I reckon you keep my soul for me!

      THE RUN OF THE DOWNS

      The Weald is good, the Downs are best—

      I'll give you the run of 'em, East to West.

      Beachy Head and Winddoor Hill,

      They were once and they are still,

      Firle, Mount Caburn and Mount Harry

      Go back as far as sums'll carry.

      Ditchling Beacon and Chanctonbury Ring,

      They have looked on many a thing,

      And what those two have missed between 'em

      I reckon Truleigh Hill has seen 'em.

      Highden, Bignor and Duncton Down

      Knew Old England before the Crown.

      Linch Down, Treyford and Sunwood

      Knew Old England before the Flood.

      And when you end on the Hampshire side —

      Butser's old as Time and Tide.

      The Downs are sheep, the Weald is corn,

      You be glad you are Sussex born!

      BROOKLAND ROAD

      I was very well pleased with what I knowed,

      I reckoned myself no fool —

      Till I met with a maid on the Brookland Road,

      That turned me back to school.

        Low down – low down!  

      Where the liddle green lanterns shine – 

       O maids, I've done with 'ee all but one, 

       And she can never be mine!

      'Twas right in the middest of a hot June night,

      With thunder duntin' round,

      And I see'd her face by the fairy light

      That beats from off the ground.

      She only smiled and she never spoke,

      She smiled and went away;

      But when she'd gone my heart was broke,

      And my wits was clean astray.

      O stop your ringing and let me be —

      Let be, O Brookland bells!

      You'll ring Old GoodmanA out of the sea,

      Before I wed one else!

      Old Goodman's Farm is rank sea-sand,

      And was this thousand year:

      But it shall turn to rich plough land

      Before I change my dear.

      O, Fairfield Church is water-bound

      From autumn to the spring;

      But it shall turn to high hill ground

      Before my bells do ring.

      O, leave me walk on the Brookland Road,

      In the thunder and warm rain —

      O, leave me look where my love goed,

      And p'raps I'll see her again!

        Low down – low down!  

      Where the liddle green lanterns shine –  

      O maids, I've done with 'ee all but one,  

      And she can never be mine!

      THE SACK OF THE GODS

      Strangers drawn from the ends of the earth, jewelled and plumed were we.

      I was Lord of the Inca race, and she was Queen of the Sea.

      Under the stars beyond our stars where the new-forged meteors glow

      Hotly we stormed Valhalla, a million years ago.

      Ever 'neath high Valhalla Hall the well-tuned horns begin

      When the swords are out in the underworld, and the weary Gods come in.

      Ever through high Valhalla Gate the Patient Angel goes;

      He opens the eyes that are blind with hate – he joins the hands of foes.

      Dust of the stars was under our feet, glitter of stars above —

      Wrecks of our wrath dropped reeling down as we fought and we spurned and we strove.

      Worlds upon worlds we tossed aside, and scattered them to and fro,

      The night that we stormed Valhalla, a million years ago!

      They are forgiven as they forgive all those dark wounds and deep,

      Their beds are made on the lap of Time and they lie down and sleep.

      They are forgiven as they forgive all those old wounds that bleed,

      They shut their eyes from their worshippers. They sleep till the world has need.

      She with the star I had marked for my own – I with my set desire —

      Lost in the loom of the Night of Nights – lighted by worlds afire —

      Met in a war against the Gods where the headlong meteors glow,

      Hewing our way to Valhalla, a million years ago!

      They will come back – come back again, as long as the red Earth rolls. He never wasted a leaf or a tree. Do you think He would squander souls?

      THE KINGDOM

      Now we are come to our Kingdom,

      And the State is thus and thus;

      Our legions wait at the Palace gate —

      Little it profits us,

      Now we are come to our Kingdom!

      Now we are come to our Kingdom,

      And the Crown is ours to take —

      With a naked sword at the Council board,

      And under the throne the Snake,

      Now we are come to our Kingdom!

      Now we are come to our Kingdom,

      And the Realm is ours by right,

      With shame and fear for our daily cheer,

      And heaviness at night,

      Now we are come to our Kingdom!

      Now we are come to our Kingdom,

      But my love's eyelids fall.

      All

A

Earl Godwin of the Goodwin Sands?