As I came down from Lebanon,

Came winding, wandering slowly down
Through mountain-passes bleak and brown,
The cloudless day was well-night done.
The city, like an opal set

In emerald, showed each minaret
Afire with radiant beams of sun,
And glistened orange, fig, and lime,
Where song-birds made melodious chime,
As I came down from Lebanon.

As I came down from Lebanon,
Like lava in the dying glow,
Through olive orchards far below
I saw the murmuring river run;
And 'neath the wall upon the sand
Swart sheiks from distant Samarcand,
With precious spices they had won,
Lay long and languidly in wait
Till they might pass the guarded gate,
As I came down from Lebanon.

As I came down from Lebanon,
I saw strange men from lands afar,
In mosque and square and gay bazar,
The Magi that the Moslem shun,
And grave Effendi from Stamboul,
Who sherbet sipped in corners cool;
And, from the balconies o'errun
With roses, gleamed the eyes of those
Who dwell in still seraglios,
As I came down from Lebanon.

As I came down from Lebanon,
The flaming flower of daytime died,
And Night, arrayed as is a bride
Of some great king, in garments spun

Of purple and the finest gold,
Outbloomed in glories manifold,
Until the moon, above the dun
And darkening desert, void of shade,
Shone like a keen Damascus blade,
As I came down from Lebanon.

Clinton Scollard [1860–

CEYLON

I HEAR a whisper in the heated air

"Rest! Rest! give over care!"

Long level breakers on the golden beach

Murmur in silver speech

"Sleep in the palm-tree shadows on the shore

Work, work no more!

Rest here and work no more."

Where half unburied cities of dead kings

Breed poisonous creeping things

I learn the poor mortality of man

Seek vainly for some plan

Know that great empires pass as I must pass

Like withered blades of grass—

Dead blades of Patna grass.

"Breathe-breathe the odorous sweetness that is ours,"

Cry Frangipani flowers.

"Forget! Forget! and know no more distress,

But languorous idleness:

Dream where dead leaves fall ever from green trees

To float on sapphire seas

Dream! and be one with these."

A. Hugh Fisher [18

MANDALAY

By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea, There's a Burma girl a-settin', an' I know she thinks o' me; For the wind is in the palm trees, an' the temple bells they

say:

"Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!"

Mandalay

Come you back to Mandalay,

Where the old Flotilla lay:

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Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay?

Oh, the road to Mandalay,

Where the flyin'-fishes play,

An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!

'Er petticut was yaller an' 'er little cap was green,

An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat-jes' the same as Theebaw's
Queen,

An' I seed her fust a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot,
An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's foot:
Bloomin' idol made o' mud-

Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd—

Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed 'er where she stud!

On the road to Mandalay

When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' slow,

She'd git 'er little banjo an' she'd sing “Kulla-lo-lo !”

With 'er arm upon my shoulder, an' 'er cheek agin my cheek, We useter watch the steamers an' the hathis pilin' teak. Elephints a-pilin' teak

In the sludgy, squdgy creek,

Where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you was 'arf afraid to speak!

On the road to Mandalay

But that's all shove be'ind me-long ago an' fur away, An' there ain't no 'buses runnin' from the Benk to Mandalay; An' I'm learnin' 'ere in London what the ten-year sodger tells: "If you've 'eard the East a-callin', why, you won't 'eed nothin' else."

No! you won't 'eed nothin' else

But them spicy garlic smells

An' the sunshine an' the palm trees an' the tinkly temple bells!

On the road to Mandalay

I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gutty pavin'-stones,
An' the blasted Henglish drizzle wakes the fever in my bones;
Though I walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer Chelsea to the
Strand,

An' they talks a lot o' lovin', but wot do they understand?
Beefy face an' grubby'and-

Law! wot do they understand?

I've a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener land! On the road to Mandalay

Ship me somewheres east of Suez where the best is like the

worst,

Where there aren't no Ten Commandments, an' a man can raise a thirst;

For the temple bells are callin', an' it's there that I would be

By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' lazy at the sea

On the road to Mandalay,

Where the old Flotilla lay,

With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay!

An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China crost the

Bay!

Rudyard Kipling [1865

BALLADS OLD AND NEW

THOMAS THE RHYMER

TRUE Thomas lay on Huntlie bank;
A ferlie he spied wi' his e'e;

And there he saw a lady bright,

Come riding down by the Eildon Tree.

Her skirt was o' the grass-green silk,
Her mantle o' the velvet fine;
At ilka tett o' her horse's mane
Hung fifty siller bells and nine.

True Thomas he pu'd aff his cap,
And louted low down on his knee:
"Hail to thee, Mary, Queen of Heaven!
For thy peer on earth could never be."

"O no, O no, Thomas!" she said,
"That name does not belang to me;
I'm but the Queen o' fair Elfland,
That am hither come to visit thee.

"Harp and carp, Thomas!" she said,
"Harp and carp along wi' me;
And if ye dare to kiss my lips,
Sure of your body I will be."

"Betide me weal, betide me woe,
That weird shall never daunten me."

Syne he has kissed her rosy lips,

All underneath the Eildon Tree.

"Now, ye maun go wi' me," she said;

"True Thomas, ye maun go wi' me;

And ye maun serve me seven years,
Through weal or woe as may chance to be."