A BALLAD OF EAST AND WEST

15

"Is there never a man of all my men can say where Kamal hides?" Then up and spoke Mahommed Khan, the son of the Ressaldar, "If ye know the track of the morning mist, ye know where his pickets are;

At dusk he harries the Abazai at dawn he is into Bonair

But he must go by Fort Bukloh to his own place to fare,

So if ye gallop to Fort Bukloh as fast as a bird can fly,

By the favor of God ye may cut him off ere he win to the Tongue of Jagai.

But if he be passed the Tongue of Jagai, right swiftly turn ye then, For the length and the breadth of that grisly plain are sown with Kamal's men."

The Colonel's son has taken a horse, and a raw rough dun was he, With the mouth of a bell and the heart of Hell and the head of

the gallows-tree.

The Colonel's son to the Fort has won, they bid him stay to eat
Who rides at the tail of a Border thief, he sits not long at his meat,
He's up and away from Fort Bukloh as fast as he can fly,
Till he was aware of his father's mare in the gut of the Tongue of
Jagai,

Till he was aware of his father's mare with Kamal upon her back.
And when he could spy the white of her eye, he made the pistol

crack.

He has fired once, he has fired twice, but the whistling ball went

wide,

"Ye shoot like a soldier," Kamal said. "Show now if ye can ride." It's up and over the Tongue of Jagai, as blown dust-devils go, The dun he fled like a stag of ten, but the mare like a barren doe.

The dun he fell at a water-course in a woful heap fell he, And Kamal has turned the red mare back, and pulled the rider free.

He has knocked the pistol out of his hand, small room was

there to strive

16

A BALLAD OF EAST AND WEST

""Twas only by favor of mine," quoth he, "ye rode so long alive; There was not a rock for twenty mile, there was not a clump of tree,

But covered a man of my own men with his rifle cocked on his knee.

If I had raised my bridle-hand, as I have held it low,

The little jackals that flee so fast were feasting all in a row;

If I had bowed my head on my breast, as I have held it high, The kite that whistles above us now were gorged till she could not fly."

Lightly answered the Colonel's son:

beast,

"Do good to bird and

But count who come for the broken meats before thou makest a

feast.

If there should follow a thousand swords to carry my bones away Belike the price of a jackal's meal were more than a thief could

pay.

They will feed their horse on the standing crop, their men on the garnered grain,

The thatch of the byres will serve their fires when all the cattle are slain.

But if thou thinkest the price be fair, and thy brethren wait to

sup,

The hound is kin to the jackal-spawn, howl, dog, and call them up!

And if thou thinkest the price be high, in steer and gear and stack, Give me my father's mare again, and I'll fight my own way back!"

Kamal has gripped him by the hand and set him upon his feet. "No talk shall be of dogs," said he, "when wolf and gray wolf

meet.

May I eat dirt if thou hast hurt of me in deed or breath.

What dam of lances brought thee forth to jest at the dawn with Death?"

A BALLAD OF EAST AND WEST

17

Lightly answered the Colonel's son: "I hold by the blood of

my clan;

Take up the mare for my father's gift - By God, she has carried a man!"

The red mare ran to the Colonel's son, and nuzzled her nose in his breast,

"We be two strong men," said Kamal then, "but she loveth the younger best.

So she shall go with a lifter's dower, my turquoise-studded rein, My broidered saddle and saddle-cloth, and silver stirrups twain." The Colonel's son a pistol drew and held it muzzle-end,

"Ye have taken the one from a foe," said he; "will ye take the mate from a friend?"

"A gift for a gift," said Kamal straight; "a limb for the risk of a limb.

Thy father has sent his son to me, I'll send my son to him!" With that he whistled his only son, who dropped from a mountain

He trod the ling like a buck in spring and he looked like a lance

in rest.

"Now here is thy master," Kamal said, "who leads a troop of

the Guides,

And thou must ride at his left side as shield to shoulder rides. Till Death or I cut loose the tie, at camp and board and bed, Thy life is his-thy fate it is to guard him with thy head."

Oh, east is east, and west is west, and never the two shall meet
Till earth and sky stand presently at God's great Judgment Seat.
But there is neither east nor west, border or breed or birth,
When two strong men stand face to face though they come from
the ends of the earth.

RUDYARD KIPLING.

18

THE KING OF DENMARK'S RIDE

THE KING OF DENMARK'S RIDE

WORD was brought to the Danish king,

(Hurry!)

That the love of his heart lay suffering,

And pined for the comfort his voice would bring.
(Oh! ride as if you were flying!)

Better he loves each golden curl

On the brow of that Scandinavian girl
Than his rich crown-jewels of ruby and pearl;
And his Rose of the Isles is dying.

Thirty nobles saddled with speed:

(Hurry!)

Each one mounted a gallant steed

Which he kept for battle and days of need;
(Oh! ride as though you were flying!)

Spurs were stuck in the foaming flank,
Worn-out chargers staggered and sank;
Bridles were slackened and girths were burst;
But, ride as they would, the king rode first,
For his Rose of the Isles lay dying.

His nobles are beaten, one by one;

(Hurry!)

They have fainted and faltered, and homeward gone;

His little fair page now follows alone,

For strength and for courage trying.

The king looked back at that faithful child,

Wan was the face that answering smiled.

They passed the drawbridge with clattering din,
Then he dropped, and only the king rode in
Where his Rose of the Isles lay dying.

HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS

The king blew a blast on his bugle-horn,

(Silence !)

No answer came, but faint and forlorn
An echo returned on the cold gray morn,
Like the breath of a spirit sighing;

The castle portal stood grimly wide;

None welcomed the king from that weary ride!
For, dead in the light of the dawning day,
The pale sweet form of the welcomer lay,

Who had yearned for his voice while dying.

19

The panting steed with a drooping crest stood weary;
The king returned from the chamber of rest,
The thick sobs choking in his breast,

And that dumb companion eying,

The tears gushed forth, which he strove to check;
He bowed his head on his charger's neck,

"O steed that every nerve didst strain,

Dear steed! our ride has been in vain

To the halls where my love lay dying."

CAROLINE ELIZABETH Norton.

HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX

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

I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three;

"Good speed!" cried the watch, as the gate bolts undrew;

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

Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest,

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;