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This for the Maple-leaf, and that for the southern
Broom. The Law that ye make shall be law and I do not
press my will, Because ye are Sons of The Blood and call me
Mother still. Now must ye speak to your kinsmen and they
must speak to you, After the use of the English, in straight-flung words
and few. Go to your work and be strong, halting not in
your ways, Baulking the end half-won for an instant dole of
praise. Stand to your work and be wise-certain of sword
and pen, Who are neither children nor Gods, but men in a
world of men!
THE FIRST CHANTEY.
MINE was the woman to me, darkling I found
her; Haling her dumb from the camp, held her and
bound her. Hot rose her tribe on our track ere I had proved
her; Hearing her laugh in the gloom, greatly I loved
Swift through the forest we ran; none stood to
guard us, Few were my people and far; then the flood
barred usHim we call Son of the Sea, sullen and swollen; Panting we waited the death, stealer and stolen,
Yet ere they came to my lance laid for the
slaughter, Lightly she leaped to a log lapped in the water;
Holding on high and apart skins that arrayed her, Called she the God of the Wind that he should aid
Life had the tree at that word, (Praise we the Giver!)
Low lay the land we had left. Now the blue
bound us, Even the Floor of the Gods level around us. Whisper there was not, nor word, shadow nor
showing, Still the light stirred on the deep, glowing and
Then did He leap to His place flaring from under, He the Compeller, the Sun, bared to our wonder. Nay, not a league from our eyes blinded with
gazing, Cleared He the womb of the world, huge and
This we beheld (and we live)—the Pit of the
Burning, Then the God spoke to the tree for our returning; Back to the beach of our flight, fearless and slowly, Back to our slayers he went: but we were holy.
Men that were hot in that hunt, women that
followed, Babes that were promised our bones, trembled
and wallowed: Over the necks of the tribe crouching and fawn
ingProphet and priestess we came back from the
THE LAST CHANTEY.
" And there was no more sea."
THUS said The Lord in the Vault above the Cheru
bim, Calling to the angels and the souls in their de
On the smoke of Judgment Day.
gather up the sea ?”
Loud sang the souls of the jolly, jolly mariners:
In the deep the Lord hath seen us-
may sink the sea!”