Selections from the Poems and Plays of Robert Browning. Robert Browning

I

      MARCHING ALONG

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      Kentish Sir Byng stood for his King,

       Bidding the crop-headed Parliament swing;

       And, pressing a troop unable to stoop

       And see the rogues nourish and honest folk droop,

       Marched them along, fifty-score strong,5

       Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song:

      God for King Charles! Pym and such carles

       To the Devil that prompts 'em their treasonous parles!

       Cavaliers, up! Lips from the cup,

       Hands from the pasty, nor bite take nor sup.10

       Till you're—

       Chorus.—Marching along, fifty-score strong, Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song.

      Hampden to hell, and his obsequies' knell

       Serve Hazelrig, Fiennes, and young Harry as well!15

       England, good cheer! Rupert is near!

       Kentish and loyalists, keep we not here,

       Chorus.—Marching along, fifty-score strong, Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song?

      Then, God for King Charles! Pym and his snarls20

       To the Devil that pricks on such pestilent carles!

       Hold by the right, you double your might;

       So, onward to Nottingham, fresh for the fight.

       Chorus.—March we along, fifty-score strong, Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song!

II

      GIVE A ROUSE

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      King Charles, and who'll do him right now?

       King Charles, and who's ripe for fight now?

       Give a rouse; here's, in hell's despite now,

       King Charles!

      Who gave me the goods that went since?5

       Who raised me the house that sank once?

       Who helped me to gold I spent since?

       Who found me in wine you drank once?

       Chorus.—

       King Charles, and who'll do him right now? King Charles, and who's ripe for fight now?10 Give a rouse; here's, in hell's despite now, King Charles!

      To whom used my boy George quaff else,

       By the old fool's side that begot him?

       For whom did he cheer and laugh else,15

       While Noll's damned troopers shot him?

       Chorus.—

       King Charles, and who'll do him right now? King Charles, and who's ripe for fight now? Give a rouse; here's, in hell's despite now, King Charles!20

III

       BOOT AND SADDLE

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      Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!

       Rescue my castle before the hot day

       Brightens to blue from its silvery gray,

       Chorus.—Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!

      Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say;5

       Many's the friend there, will listen and pray

       "God's luck to gallants that strike up the lay—

Chorus.—Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"

      Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay,

       Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads' array;10

       Who laughs, "Good fellows ere this, by my fay,

       Chorus.—Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"

      Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest and gay,

       Laughs when you talk of surrendering, "Nay!

       I've better counselors; what counsel they?15

       Chorus.—Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"

THE LOST LEADER

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      Just for a handful of silver he left us,

       Just for a riband to stick in his coat—

       Found the one gift of which fortune bereft us,

       Lost all the others she lets us devote;

       They, with the gold to give, doled him out silver,5

       So much was theirs who so little allowed;

       How all our copper had gone for his service!

       Rags—were they purple, his heart had been proud!

       We that had loved him so, followed him, honored him,

       Lived in his mild and magnificent eye,10

       Learned his great language, caught his clear accents,

       Made him our pattern to live and to die!

       Shakespeare was of us, Milton was for us,

       Burns, Shelley, were with us—they watch from their graves!

       He alone breaks from the van and the freemen,15

—He alone sinks to the rear and the slaves! We shall march prospering—not through his presence; Songs may inspirit us—not from his lyre; Deeds will be done—while he boasts his quiescence, Still bidding crouch whom the rest bade aspire.20 Blot out his name, then, record one lost soul more, One task more declined, one more footpath untrod, One more devils'-triumph and sorrow for angels, One wrong more to man, one more insult to God! Life's night begins; let him never come back to us!25 There would be doubt, hesitation and pain, Forced praise on our part—the glimmer of twilight, Never glad confident morning again! Best fight on well, for we taught him—strike gallantly, Menace our heart ere we master his own;30 Then let him receive the new knowledge and wait us, Pardoned in heaven, the first by the throne!

"HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX"

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      I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he;

       I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three;

       "Good speed!" cried the watch, as the gatebolts undrew;

       "Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through;

       Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest,5

       And into the midnight we galloped abreast.

      Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace

       Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place;

       I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight,