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A. LANC



XXII Ballades

in Blue diina




SouU.'



j>M



LONDON
KEGAN l>AU?, ^vCO., i, PATERNOSTER SQUAKK
MDCCCLXXX



^LkJ^AJe/^



Jl BALLADE OF XXII BALLADES.

Friend, when yoii bear a carc-diilled eye,
And brozu perplexed tvith tilings of weight.
And fain wotdd bid some charm tmtie

The bonds that hold you all too strait,
Behold a solace to your fate,

Wrapped in this cover's china blue ;

These ballades fresh and delicate.

This dainty troop of twenty-two !

The mind, unwearied, longs to fly
And commune with the wise and great ;
But that same ether, 7-are and high.
Which glonfles its 'worthy mate.
To breath forspent is disparate :
Laughing a7td light and ai)y-new
These come to tickle the dull pate.
This dainty troop of twenty-tzvo.



A BALLADE.

Most luelcome then, xuhen you and I,

Forestalling days for 7nirth too late.

To quips a7id cranks and fantasy

Some choice half-hour dedicate.

They weave their dance loith measured rate

Of rhymes enlinked in order due.

Till froivns relax and cares abate,

This dainty troop of twenty -two.

Envoy.

Princes, of toys that please your state
Quainter are surely none to view
Than these which pass zvith tripping gait.
This dainty troop of twenty-two.



XXII BALLADES IN
BLUE CHINA



A. LANG



XXII Ballades

in Blue China



Tout




Soullas



LONDON

C. KEGAN PAUL & CO., i, PATERNOSTER SQUARE

MDCCCLXXX



ISAAC FOOT
LIBRARY



" Rondearcx, Ballades,
Chansons, dizains, firopos 7nenus,
Cotnpte tnoy gu'ilz sont de-jenuz :
Sefaict il plus rien de nouveau ? "

Clement Marot, Dialogue de deux
Antoureux.

"I love a ballad but even too well; if it be doleful
matter, merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing
indeed, and sung lamentably."

A IVinie/s Tale, Act iv. sc- 3.






LIBRARY

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA

SANTA BARBARA



TO

AUSTIN DOBSON.



CONTENTS.

Page

Ballade of Theocritus 9

Ballade of Cleopatra's Needle . . . . 1 1

Ballade of Roulette 13

Ballade of Sleep 15

Ballade of the Midnight Forest . . , . 18

Ballade of the Tweed 21

Ballade of the Book-hunter 23

Ballade of the Voyage to Cythera ... 25

Ballade of the Summer Term .... 28

Ballade of the Muse 30

Ballade against the Jesuits 32

Ballade of Dead Cities 34

Ballade of the Royal Game of Golf . . 36

Double Ballade of Primitive Man ... 38

Ballade of Autumn 41

Ballade of True Wisdom 43

Ballade of Worldly Wealth 45



vi CONTENTS.

Page

Ballade of Life 47

Ballade of Blue China 49

Ballade of Dead Ladies 51

Ballade of Villon 53

Ballade of his Choice of a Sepulchre . . 55

Dizain 57



VERSES AND TRANSLATIONS.

A Portrait of 1783 61

The Moon's Minion 64

In Ithaca 65

Homer 67

The Burial of Moliere 68

Bion 69

Spring 70

Before the Snow 71

Villanelle 72

The Mystery of Queen Persephone . . 74

Ideal 79



BALLADE TO THEOCRITUS, IN
WINTER.

Id. viii. 56,

Ah ! leave the smoke, the wealth, the roar
Of London, and the bustling street,
For still, by the Sicilian shore.
The murmur of the Muse is sweet.
Still, still, the suns of summer greet
The mountain-grave of Helike,
And shepherds still their songs repeat
Where breaks the blue Sicilian sea.

What though they worship Pan no more,
That guarded once the shepherd's seat,
They chatter of their mstic lore,
They watch the wind among the wheat:



XXII BALLADES

Cicalas chirp, the young lambs bleat,
Where whispers pine to cypress tree ;
They count the waves that idly beat
Where breaks the blue Sicilian sea.

Theocritus ! thou canst restore
The pleasant years, and over-fleet ;
With thee we live as men of yore,
We rest where mnning waters meet :
And then we turn unwilling feet
And seek the world — so must it be —
We may not linger in the heat
Where breaks the blue Sicilian sea !



Master, — when rain, and snow, and sleet
And northern winds are wild, to thee
We come, we rest in thy retreat,
Where breaks the blue Sicilian sea !



IN BLUE CHINA.



BALLADE OF CLEOPATRA'S
NEEDLE.

Ye giant shades of Ra and TuM,
Ye ghosts of gods Egyptian,
If murmurs of our planet come
To exiles in the precincts wan
Where, fetish or Olympian,
To help or harm no more ye list.
Look down, if look ye may, and scan
This monument in London mist!

Behold, the hieroglyphs are dumb
That once were read of him that ran
When seistron, cymbal, trump, and drum
Wild music of the Bull began ;
When through the chanting priestly clan
W^alk'd Ramses, and the high sun kiss'd
This stone, with blessing scored and ban-
This monument in London mist.



2 XXII BALLADES

The stone endures though gods be numb ;
Though human effort, plot, and plan
Be sifted, drifted, like the sum
Of sands in wastes Arabian.
What king may deem him more than man,
What priest says Faith can Time resist
While this endures to mark their span —
This monument in London mist ?



Prince, the stone's shade on your divan
Falls ; it is longer than ye wist :
It preaches, as Time's gnomon can,
This monument in London mist !



IN BLUE CHINA. 13



BALLADE OF ROULETTE.



This life — one was thinking to-day,

In the midst of a medley of fancies —

Is a game, and the board where we play

Green earth with her poppies and pansies.

Let mampie be faded romances.

He passe remorse and regret ;

Hearts dance with the wheel as it dances —

The wheel of Dame Fortune's roulette.

The lover will stake as he may

His heart on his Peggies and Nancies ;

The girl has her beauty to lay ;

The saint has his prayers and his trances ;

The poet bets endless expanses

In Dreamland ; the scamp has his debt :

How they gaze at the wheel as it glances —

The wheel of Dame Fortune's roulette !

A



14 XXII BALIADES

The Kaiser will stake his array

Of sabi-es, of Krupps, and of lances ;

An Englishman punts with his pay,

And glory 'Ct\Q.jeto7i of France is ;

Your artists, or Whistlers or Vances,

Have voices or colours to bet ;

Will you moan that its motion askance is-

The wheel of Dame Fortune's roulette ?



The prize that the pleasure enhances ?
The prize is — at last to forget
The changes, the chops, and the chances-
The wheel of Dame Fortune's roulette.



IN BLUE CHINA. 15



BALLADE OF SLEEP.

The hours are passing slow,
I hear their weary tread
Clang from the tower, and go
Back to their kinsfolk dead..
Sleep ! death's twin brother dread
Why dost thou scorn me so ?
The wind's voice overhead
Long wakeful here I know,
And music from the steep
Where waters fall and flow.
Wilt thou not hear me, Sleep ?

All sounds that might bestow
Rest on the fever'd bed,
All slumb'rous sounds and low
Are mingled here and wed,
And bring no drowsihed.



1 6 XXII BALLADES

Shy dreams flit to and fro
With shadowy hair dispread ;
With wistful eyes that glow,
And silent robes that sweep.
Thou wilt not hear me ; no ?
Wilt thou not hear me, Sleep ?

What cause hast thou to show
Of sacrifice unsped ?
Of all thy slaves below
I most have labom-ed
With service sung and said ;
Have cuU'd such buds as blow,
Soft poppies white and red,
Where thy still gardens grow,
And Lethe's waters weep.
Why, then, art thou my foe ?
Wilt thou not hear me. Sleep ?



Prince, ere the dark be shred
By golden shafts, ere low



IN BLUE CHINA. 17

And long the shadows creep:
Lord of the wand of lead,
Soft-footed as the snow,
Wilt thou not hear me, Sleep !



i8 XXII BALLADES



BALLADE OF THE MIDNIGHT
FOREST.

AFTER THEODORE DE BANVILLE.

Still sing the mocking fairies, as of old,
Beneath the shade of thorn and holly-tree ;
The west wind breathes upon them, pure and

cold.
And wolves still dread Diana roaming free
In secret woodland with her company.
'Tis thought the peasants' hovels know her

rite
When now the wolds are bathed in silver

light,
And first the moonrise breaks the dusky grey,
Then down the dells, with blown soft hair and

bright,
And through the dim wood Dian threads her

way.



IN BLUE CHINA. 19

With water- weeds twined in their locks of

gold
The strange cold forest-fairies dance in glee,
Sylphs over-timorous and over-bold
Haunt the dark hollows where the d\A'arf may be,
The wild red dwarf, the nixies' enemy ;
Then 'mid their mirth, and laughter, and

affright,
The sudden Goddess enters, tall and white,
With one long sigh for summers pass'd away ;
The swift feet tear the i\'y nets outright
And through the dim wood Dian threads her way.

She gleans her silvan trophies ; down the wold
She hears the sobbing of the stags that flee
Mixed with the music of the hunting roll'd,
But her delight is all in archery,
And naught of ruth and pity wotteth she
More than her hounds that follow on the flight ;
The goddess draws a golden bow of might
And thick she rains the gentle shafts that slay.
She tosses loose her locks upon the night.
And through the dim wood Dian threads her way.



20 XXII BALLADES

ENVOY.

Prince, let us leave the din, the dust, the spite,
The gloom and glare of towns, the plague, the

blight :
Amid the forest leaves and fountain spray
There is the mystic home of our delight.
And through the dim wood Dian threads her

way.



IN BLUE CHINA.



BALLADE OF THE TWEED.

(lowland scotch.)
to t. w. lang.
The ferox rins in rough Loch Awe,
A weary cry frae ony toun ;
The Spey, that loiips o'er linn and fa',
They praise a' ither streams aboon ;
They boast their braes o' bonny Doon :
Gie mc to hear the ringing reel,
Where shilfas sing, and cushats croon
By fair Tweed-side, at Ashiesteel !

There's Ettrick, Meggat, Ail, and a',
Where trout swim thick in May and June ;
Ye'U see them take in showers o' snaw
Some blinking, cauldrife April noon :
Rax ower the palmer and march-broun,
And syne we'll show a bonny creel,
In spring or simmer, late or soon.
By fair Tweed-side, at Ashiesteel !



22 XXII BALLADES

There's mony a water, gi-eat or sma',

Gaes singing in his siller tune,

Through glen and heugh, and hope and shaw.

Beneath the sun-licht or the moon :

But set us in our fishing-shoon

Between the Caddon-burn and Peel,

And syne we'll cross the heather broun

By fair Tweed-side at Ashiesteel !

ENVOY.

Deil take the dirty, trading loon
Wad gar the water ca' his wheel,
And drift his dyes and poisons doun
By fair Tweed-side at Ashiesteel !



nV BLUE CHINA. 23



BALLADE OF THE BOOK-HUNTER.

In toii-id heats of late July,

In March, beneath the bitter bise.

He book-hunts while the loungers fly, —

He book-hunts, though December freeze ;

In breeches baggy at the knees,

And heedless of the public jeers,

For these, for these, he hoards his fees, —

Aldines, Bodonis, Elzevirs.

No dismal stall escapes his eye,

He turns o'er tomes of low degrees,

There soiled romanticists may lie,

Or Restoration comedies ;

Each tract that flutters in the breeze

For him is charged with hopes and fears,

In mouldy novels fancy sees

Aldines, Bodonis, Elzevirs.



24 XXII BALLADES

With restless eyes that peer and spy,
Sad eyes that heed not skies nor trees,
In dismal nooks he loves to pry,
Whose motto evermore is Spes !
But ah ! the fabled treasure flees ;
Grown rarer with the fleeting years,
In rich men's shelves they take their ease,
Aldines, Bodonis, Elzevirs !



Prince, all the things that tease and please, —
Fame, hope, wealth, kisses, cheers, and tears.
What are they but such toys as these —
Aldines, Bodonis, Elzevirs ?



m BLUE CHINA, 25



BALLADE OF THE VOYAGE TO
CYTHERA.

AFTER THEODORE DE BANVILLE.

I know Cythera long is desolate ;

I know the winds have stripp'd the gardens

green.
Alas, my friends ! beneath the fierce sun's

weight
A barren reef lies where Love's flowers have

been,
Nor ever lover on that coast is seen !
So be it, but we seek a fabled shore.
To lull our vague desires with mystic lore,
To wander where Love's labyrinths beguile ;
There let us land, there dream for evermore :
" It may be we shall touch the happy isle."



26 XXII BALLADES

The sea may be our sepulchre. If Fate,
If tempests wreak their wrath on us, serene
We watch the bolt of heaven, and scorn the hate
Of angry gods that smite us in their spleen.
Perchance the jealous mists are but the screen
That veils the faiiy coast we M'ould explore.
Come, though the sea be vex'd, and breakers

roar,
Come, for the air of this old world is vile,
Haste we, and toil, and faint not at the oar ;
"It may be we shall touch the happy isle."

Grey serpents trail in temples desecrate
Where Cj'pris smiled, the golden maid, the queen.
And ruined is the palace of our state ;
But happy Loves flit round the mast, and keen
The shrill wind sings the silken cords between.
Heroes are we, with wearied hearts and sore,
Whose flower is faded and whose locks are hoar,
Yet haste, light skiff's, where myrtle thickets

smile ;
Love's panthers sleep 'mid roses, as of yore :
' ' It may be we shall touch the happy isle ! "



IN BLUE CHINA. 27



Sad eyes ! the blue sea laughs, as heretofore.
Ah, singing birds your happy music pour !
Ah, poets, leave the sordid earth awhile ;
Flit to these ancient gods we still adore :
" It may be we shall touch the happy isle ! "



28 XXII BALIADES



BALLADE OF THE SUMMER TERM.

{Being a Petition, in the form of a Ballade,

praying the University Commissioners

to spare the Sttmmer Term.)

When Lent and Responsions are ended,
When May with fritillaries waits,
When the flower of the chestnut is splendid,
When drags are at all of the gates
(Those drags the philosopher " slates"
With a scorn that is truly sublime),*
Life wins from the grasp of the Fates
Sweet hours and the fleetest of time !

When wickets are bowl'd and defended,
When Isis is glad with "the Eights,"
When music and sunset are blended.
When Youth and the summer are mates,

* Cf. " Suggestions for Academic Reorganization."



IN BLUE CHINA. 29

When Freshmen are heedless of "Greats,"
And when note-books are cover'd with rhyme,
Ah, these are the hours that one rates —
Sweet hours and the fleetest of time !

When the brow of the Dean is unbended

At luncheons and mild tete-a-tetes,
When the Tutor's in love, nor offended
By blunders in tenses or dates ;
When bouquets are purchased of Bates,
When the bells in their melody chime,
When unheeded the Lecturer prates —
Sweet hours and the fleetest of time !

ENVOY.

Reformers of Schools and of States,
Is mirth so tremendous a crime ?
Ah ! spare what grim pedantry hates —
Sweet hours and the fleetest of time !



30 XXII BALLADES



BALLADE OF THE MUSE.

Qiievi til, Alelpomene, seinel.

The man whom once, Melpomene,

Thou look'st on with benignant sight,

Shall never at the Isthmus be

A boxer eminent in fight,

Nor fares he foremost in the flight

Of Grecian cars to victory,

Nor goes with Delian laurels dight.

The man thou lov'st, Melpomene !

Not him the Capitol shall see.
As who hath crush'd the threats and might
Of monarchs, march triumphantly;
But Fame shall crown him, in his right
Of all the Roman lyre that smite
The first ; so woods of Tivoli
Proclaim him, so her waters bright,
The man thou lov'st, Melpomene !



LV BLUE CHINA. 31

The sons of queenly Rome count me,

Me too, with them whose chants delight, —

The poets' kindly company ;

Now broken is the tooth of spite.

But thou, that temperest aright

The golden lyre, all, all to thee

He owes — life, fame, and fortune's height —

The man thou lov'st, Melpomene !



Queen, that to mute lips could'st unite
The wild swan's dying melody !
Thy gifts, ah ! how shall he requite —
The man thou lov'st, Melpomene?



32 XXII BALLADES



BALLADE AGAINST THE JESUITS.

AFTER LA FONTAINE.

Rome does right well to censure all the vain
Talk of Jansenius, and of them who preach
That earthly joys are damnable ! 'Tis plain
We need not charge at Heaven as at a breach ;
No, amble on ! We'll gain it, one and all;
The narrow path's a dream fantastical,
And Amauld's quite superfluously driven
Mirth from the world ! We'll scale the

heavenly wall,
Escobar makes a primrose path to heaven !

He does not hold a man may well be slain
Who vexes with unseasonable speech,
You 77iay do murder for five ducats gain.
Not for a pin, a ribbon, or a peach ;
He ventures (most consistently) to teach



IN BLUE CHINA. 33

That there are certain cases that befall
When perjury need no good man appal,
And life of love (he says) may keep a leaven.
Sure, hearing this, a grateful world will bawl,
"Escobar makes a primrose path to heaven ! "

" For God's sake read me somewhat in the strain
Of his most cheering volumes, I beseech ! "
Why should I name them all ? a mighty train —
So many, none may know the name of each.
Make these your compass to the heavenly beach,
These only in your library instal :
Burn Pascal and his fellows, great and small,
Dolts that in vain with Escobar have striven ;
I tell you, and the common voice doth call,
Escobar makes a primrose path to heaven !

ENVOY.

Satan, that pride did hurry to thy fall,
Thou porter of the grim infernal hall —
Thou keeper of the courts of souls unshriven !
To shun thy shafts, to 'scape thy hellish thrall,
Escobar makes a primrose path to heaven !
c



34 XXII BALIADES



BALLADE OF DEAD CITIES.

TO E. W. GOSSE.

The dust of Carthage and the dust
Of Babel on the desert wold,
The loves of Corinth, and the lust,
Orchomenos increased with gold ;
The towTi of Jason, over-bold,
And Cherson, smitten in her prime —
What are they but a dream half-told?
Where are the cities of old time ?

In towns that were a kingdom's trust,
In dim Atlantic forests' fold.
The marble wasteth to a crust,
The granite crumbles into mould ;
O'er these — left nameless from of old—
As over Shinar's brick and slime,
One vast forgetflilness is roU'd —
Where are the cities of old time?



IN BLUE CHINA. 35

The lapse of ages, and the rust,

The fii'e, the frost, the waters cold,

Efface the evil and the just ;

From Thebes, that Eriphyle sold.

To drown'd Caer-Is, whose sweet bells toU'd

Beneath the wave a dreamy chime

That echo'd from the mountain-hold, —

' ' Where are the cities of old time ? "



Prince, all thy towns and cities must
Decay as these, till all their crime.
And mirth, and wealth, and toil are thrust
Where are the cities of old time.



36 XXII BALLADES



BALLADE OF THE ROYAL GAME
OF GOLF.

(east fifeshire.)

There are laddies will drive ye a ba'
To the bum frae the farthermost tee,
But ye mauna think driving is a',
Ye may heel her, and send her ajee,
Ye may land in the sand or the sea ;
And ye're dune, sir, ye're no worth a preen,
Tak' the word that an auld man '11 gie,
Tak' aye tent to be up on the green !

The auld folk are crouse, and they craw
That their putting is pawky and slee ;
In a bunker they're nae gude ava',
But to girn, and to gar the sand flee.
And a lassie can putt — ony she, —
Be she Magg)', or Bessie, or Jean,



IN BLUE CHINA. 37

But a cleek-shot's the billy for me,
Tak' aye tent to be up on the green !

I hae play'd in the frost and the thaw,
I hae play'd since the year thirty-three,
I hae play'd in the rain and the snaw,
And I trust I may play till I dee ;
And I tell ye the truth and nae lee,
For I speak o' the thing I hae seen^
Tam Morris, I ken, will agree —
Tak' aye tent to be up on the green !



Prince, faith you're improving a wee.
And, Lord, man, they tell me you're keen ;
Tak' the best o' advice that can be,
Tak' aye tent to be up on the green !



38 XXII BALLADES



DOUBLE BALLADE OF PRIMITWE
MAN.

TO J. A. FARRER.

He lived in a cave by the seas,

He lived upon oysters and foes,

But his list of forbidden degrees.

An extensive morality shows ;

Geological evidence goes

To prove he had never a pan,

But he shaved with a shell when he chose, —

'Twas the manner of Primitive Man.

He worshipp'd the rain and the breeze,

He worshipp'd the river that flows,

And the Dawn, and the Moon, and the trees,

And bogies, and serpents, and crows ;

He buried his dead with their toes

Tucked-up, an original plan,

Till their knees came right under their nose, —

'Twas the manner of Primitive Man.



IN BLUE CHINA. 39

His communal wives, at his ease,
He would curb with occasional blows ;
Or his State had a queen, like the bees
(As another philosopher trows) :
When he spoke, it was never in prose.
But he sang in a strain that would scan,
For (to doubt it, perchance, were morose)
'Twas the manner of Primitive Man !

On the coasts that incessantly freeze.

With his stones, and his bones, and his bows j

On luxuriant tropical leas,

Where the summer eternally glows,

He is found, and his habits disclose

(Let theology say what she can)

That he lived in the long, long agos,

'Twas the manner of Primitive Man !



From a status like that of the Crees,
Our society's fabric arose, —
Develop'd, evolved, if you please.
But deluded chronologists chose,



40 XXII BALLADES

In a fancied accordance with Mos

es, 4000 B. c. for the span

When he rushed on the world and its woes,-

'Twas the manner of Primitive Man !

But the mild anthropologist, — his
Not recent inclined to suppose
Flints Paleolithic like these,
Quaternaiy bones such as those !
In Rhinoceros, Mammoth and Co.'s,
First epoch, the Human began,
Theologians all to e^cpose, —
"Tis the mission of Primitive Man.

ENVOY.
Max, proudly your Aryans pose.
But their rigs they undoubtedly ran,
For, as every Darwinian knows,
'Twas the manner of Primitive Man !



IN BLUE CHINA. 41



BALLADE OF AUTUMN.

We built a castle in the air,
In summer weather, you and I,
The wind and sun were in your hair, —
Gold hair against a sapphire sky :
When Autumn came, with leaves that fly
Before the storm, across the plain,
You fled from me, with scarce a sigh —
My Love returns no more again !

The windy lights of Autumn flare :
I watch the moonlit sails go by ;
I man'el how men toil and fare,
The weary business that they ply !
Their voyaging is vanity,
And fairy gold is all their gain,
And all the winds of winter cry,
" My Love returns no more again ! "



42 XXII BALLADES

Here, in my castle of Despair,
I sit alone with memory ;
The wind-fed wolf has left his lair,
To keep the outcast company.
The brooding owl he hoots hard by.
The hare shall kindle on thy hearth-stane.
The Rhymer's soothest prophecy, — *
My Love returns no more again !

ENVOY.
Lady, my home until I die
Is here, where youth and hope were slain ;
They flit, the ghosts of our July,
My Love returns no more again !

* Thomas of Ercildoune.



IN BLUE CHINA. 43



BALLADE OF TRUE WISDOM.

While others are asking for beauty or fame,
Or praying to know that for which they should

pray,
Or courting Queen Venus, that affable dame,
Or chasing the Muses the weary and grey.
The sage has found out a more' excellent way —
To Pan and to Pallas his incense he showers,
And his humble petition puts up day by day,
For a house full of books, and a garden of flowers.

Inventors may bow to the God that is lame.
And crave from the fire on his stithy a ray ;
Philosophers kneel to the God without name,
Like the people of Athens, agnostics are they ;
The hunter a fawn to Diana v/ill slay,
The maiden wild roses will wreathe for the

Hours ;
But the wise man will ask, ere libation he pay,
Forahousefull of books, anda garden of flowers.



44 XXII BALIADES

Oh ! grant me a life without pleasure or blame
(As mortals count pleasure who rush through

their day
With a speed to which that of the tempest is

tame) !
O grant me a house by the beach of a bay,
Where the waves can be surly in winter, and

play
With the sea-weed in summer, ye bountiful

powers !
And I'd leave all the huiTy, the noise, and the

fray,
For a house full of books, and a garden of

flowers.

ENVOY.
Gods, grant or withhold it ; your "yea" and

your "nay "
Are immutable, heedless of outcry of ours :
But life is worth living, and here we would stay
For a house full of books, and a garden of

flowers.



IN BLUE CHINA. 45



BALLADE OF WORLDLY WEALTH.

(old FRENCH.)

Money taketh town and wall,
Fort and ramp without a blow ;
Money moves the merchants all,
While the tides shall ebb and flow ;
Money maketh Evil show
Like the Good, and Truth like lies :
These alone can ne'er bestow
Youth, and health, and Paradise.

Money maketh festival.
Wine she buys, and beds can strow ;
Round the necks of captains tall.
Money wins them chains to throw,
Marches soldiers to and fro,
Gaineth ladies with sweet eyes :
These alone can ne'er bestow
Youth, and health, and Paradise.



46 XXII BALLADES

Money wins the priest his stall ;


1

Online LibraryAndrew LangXXII ballades in blue china [by] A. Lang → online text (page 1 of 2)