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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

her.

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

her.

Life had the tree at that word, (Praise we the Giver!)
Otter-like left he the bank for the full river.
Far fell their axes behind, flashing and ringing,
Wonder was on me and fear, yet she was singing.

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

growing.

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

amazing!

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

dawning!

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

gree:
“Lo! Earth has passed away

On the smoke of Judgment Day.
That Our word may be established shall We

gather up the sea ?”

Loud sang the souls of the jolly, jolly mariners:
“Plague upon the hurricane that made us furl

and flee!
But the war is done between us,

In the deep the Lord hath seen us-
Our bones we'll leave the barracout, and God

may sink the sea!”

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