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Songs from Books
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Dare not adventure where we would,
But forfeit brave advantages
For lack of men to make 'em good;
Whereby, to England's double cost.
Honour and profit both are lost!'
PROPHETS AT HOME
Prophets have honour all over the Earth,
Except in the village where they were born.
Where such as knew them boys from birth,
Nature-ally hold 'em in scorn.
When Prophets are naughty and young and vain,
They make a won'erful grievance of it;
(You can see by their writings how they complain),
But O, 'tis won'erful good for the Prophet!
There's nothing Nineveh Town can give
(Nor being swallowed by whales between),
Makes up for the place where a man's folk live,
Which don't care nothing what he has been.
He might ha' been that, or he might ha' been this,
But they love and they hate him for what he is.
JUBAL AND TUBAL CAIN
Jubal sang of the Wrath of God
And the curse of thistle and thorn —
But Tubal got him a pointed rod,
And scrabbled the earth for corn.
Old – old as that early mould,
Young as the sprouting grain —
Yearly green is the strife between
Jubal and Tubal Cain!
Jubal sang of the new-found sea,
And the love that its waves divide —
But Tubal hollowed a fallen tree
And passed to the further side.
Black – black as the hurricane-wrack,
Salt as the under-main —
Bitter and cold is the hate they hold —
Jubal and Tubal Cain!
Jubal sang of the golden years
When wars and wounds shall cease —
But Tubal fashioned the hand-flung spears
And showèd his neighbours peace.
New – new as the Nine point Two,
Older than Lamech's slain —
Roaring and loud is the feud avowed
Twix' Jubal and Tubal Cain!
Jubal sang of the cliffs that bar
And the peaks that none may crown —
But Tubal clambered by jut and scar
And there he builded a town.
High – high as the snowsheds lie,
Low as the culverts drain —
Wherever they be they can never agree —
Jubal and Tubal Cain!
THE VOORTREKKER
The gull shall whistle in his wake, the blind wave break in fire.
He shall fulfil God's utmost will, unknowing his desire.
And he shall see old planets change and alien stars arise,
And give the gale his seaworn sail in shadow of new skies.
Strong lust of gear shall drive him forth and hunger arm his hand,
To win his food from the desert rude, his pittance from the sand.
His neighbours' smoke shall vex his eyes, their voices break his rest,
He shall go forth till south is north sullen and dispossessed.
He shall desire loneliness and his desire shall bring,
Hard on his heels, a thousand wheels, a People and a King.
He shall come back on his own track, and by his scarce-cooled camp
There shall he meet the roaring street, the derrick and the stamp:
There he shall blaze a nation's ways with hatchet and with brand,
Till on his last-won wilderness an Empire's outposts stand.
A SCHOOL SONG
'Let us now praise famous men' –
Men of little showing —
For their work continueth,
And their work continueth,
Broad and deep continueth,
Greater than their knowing!
Western wind and open surge
Took us from our mothers.
Flung us on a naked shore
(Twelve bleak houses by the shore!
Seven summers by the shore!)
'Mid two hundred brothers.
There we met with famous men
Set in office o'er us;
And they beat on us with rods —
Faithfully with many rods —
But forfeit brave advantages
For lack of men to make 'em good;
Whereby, to England's double cost.
Honour and profit both are lost!'
PROPHETS AT HOME
Prophets have honour all over the Earth,
Except in the village where they were born.
Where such as knew them boys from birth,
Nature-ally hold 'em in scorn.
When Prophets are naughty and young and vain,
They make a won'erful grievance of it;
(You can see by their writings how they complain),
But O, 'tis won'erful good for the Prophet!
There's nothing Nineveh Town can give
(Nor being swallowed by whales between),
Makes up for the place where a man's folk live,
Which don't care nothing what he has been.
He might ha' been that, or he might ha' been this,
But they love and they hate him for what he is.
JUBAL AND TUBAL CAIN
Jubal sang of the Wrath of God
And the curse of thistle and thorn —
But Tubal got him a pointed rod,
And scrabbled the earth for corn.
Old – old as that early mould,
Young as the sprouting grain —
Yearly green is the strife between
Jubal and Tubal Cain!
Jubal sang of the new-found sea,
And the love that its waves divide —
But Tubal hollowed a fallen tree
And passed to the further side.
Black – black as the hurricane-wrack,
Salt as the under-main —
Bitter and cold is the hate they hold —
Jubal and Tubal Cain!
Jubal sang of the golden years
When wars and wounds shall cease —
But Tubal fashioned the hand-flung spears
And showèd his neighbours peace.
New – new as the Nine point Two,
Older than Lamech's slain —
Roaring and loud is the feud avowed
Twix' Jubal and Tubal Cain!
Jubal sang of the cliffs that bar
And the peaks that none may crown —
But Tubal clambered by jut and scar
And there he builded a town.
High – high as the snowsheds lie,
Low as the culverts drain —
Wherever they be they can never agree —
Jubal and Tubal Cain!
THE VOORTREKKER
The gull shall whistle in his wake, the blind wave break in fire.
He shall fulfil God's utmost will, unknowing his desire.
And he shall see old planets change and alien stars arise,
And give the gale his seaworn sail in shadow of new skies.
Strong lust of gear shall drive him forth and hunger arm his hand,
To win his food from the desert rude, his pittance from the sand.
His neighbours' smoke shall vex his eyes, their voices break his rest,
He shall go forth till south is north sullen and dispossessed.
He shall desire loneliness and his desire shall bring,
Hard on his heels, a thousand wheels, a People and a King.
He shall come back on his own track, and by his scarce-cooled camp
There shall he meet the roaring street, the derrick and the stamp:
There he shall blaze a nation's ways with hatchet and with brand,
Till on his last-won wilderness an Empire's outposts stand.
A SCHOOL SONG
'Let us now praise famous men' –
Men of little showing —
For their work continueth,
And their work continueth,
Broad and deep continueth,
Greater than their knowing!
Western wind and open surge
Took us from our mothers.
Flung us on a naked shore
(Twelve bleak houses by the shore!
Seven summers by the shore!)
'Mid two hundred brothers.
There we met with famous men
Set in office o'er us;
And they beat on us with rods —
Faithfully with many rods —
Другие электронные книги автора Редьярд Джозеф Киплинг
Другие аудиокниги автора Редьярд Джозеф Киплинг
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