Songs from Vagabondia Part 6

What emperor has more?

Three stone jugs of Cruiskeen Lawn, And three stout hearts to drain A slanter to the truth in the heart of youth And the joy of the love of men.

A CAPTAIN OF THE PRESS-GANG.

s.h.i.+pmate, leave the ghostly shadows, Where thy boon companions throng!

We will put to sea together Through the twilight with a song.

Leering closer, rank and girding, In this Black Port where we bide, Reel a thousand flaring faces; But escape is on the tide.

Let the tap-rooms of the city Reek till the red dawn comes round.

There is better wine in plenty On the cruise where we are bound.

I've aboard a hundred messmates Better than these 'long-sh.o.r.e knaves.

There is wreckage on the shallows; It's the open sea that saves.

Hark, lad, dost not hear it calling?

That's the voice thy father knew, When he took the King's good cutla.s.s In his grip, and fought it through.

Who would palter at press-money When he heard that sea-cry vast?

That's the call makes lords of lubbers, When they s.h.i.+p before the mast.

Let thy cronies of the tavern Keep their kisses bought with gold; On the high seas there are regions Where the heart is never old,

Where the great winds every morning Sweep the sea-floor clean and white, And upon the steel-blue arches Burnish the great stars of night;

There the open hand will lose not, Nor the loosened tongue betray.

Signed, and with our sailing orders, We will clear before the day;

On the s.h.i.+ning yards of heaven See a wider dawn unfurled....

The eternal slaves of beauty Are the masters of the world.

THE BUCCANEERS.

Oh, not for us the easy mirth Of men that never roam!

The crackling of the narrow hearth, The cabined joys of home!

Keep your tame, regulated glee, O pale protected State!

Our dwelling-place is on the sea, Our joy the joy of Fate!

No long caresses give us ease, No lazy languors warm, We seize our mates as the sea-gulls seize, And leave them to the storm.

But in the bridal halls of gloom The couch is stern and strait; For us the marriage rite of Doom, The nuptial joy of Fate.

Wine for the weaklings of the town, Their lucky toasts to drain!

Our skoal for them whose star goes down, Our drink the drink of men!

No Bacchic ivy for our brows!

Like vikings, we await The grim, ungarlanded carouse We keep to-night with Fate.

Ho, gamesters of the pampered court!

What stakes are those at strife?

Your thousands are but paltry sport To them that play for life.

You risk doubloons, and hold your breath.

Win groats, and wax elate; But we throw loaded dice with Death, And call the turn on Fate.

The kings of earth are crowned with care, Their poets wail and sigh; Our music is to do and dare, Our empire is to die.

Against the storm we fling our glee And shout, till Time abate The exultation of the sea, The fearful joy of Fate.

THE WAR-SONG OF GAMELBAR.

Bowmen, shout for Gamelbar!

Winds, unthrottle the wolves of war!

Heave a breath And dare a death For the doom of Gamelbar!

Wealth for Gamel, Wine for Gamel, Crimson wine for Gamelbar!

CHORUS:--Oh, sleep for a knave, With his sins in the sod!

And death for the brave, With his glory up to G.o.d!

And joy for the girl, And ease for the churl!

But the great game of war For our lord Gamelbar, Gamelbar!

Spearmen, shout for Gamelbar, With his Saxon thirty score!

Heave a sword For our overlord, Lord of warriors, Gamelbar!

Life for Gamel, Love for Gamel, Lady-loves for Gamelbar!

Hors.e.m.e.n, shout for Gamelbar!

Swim the ford and climb the scaur!

Heave a hand For the maiden land, The maiden land of Gamelbar!

Glory for Gamel, Gold for Gamel, Yellow gold for Gamelbar!

Armorers for Gamelbar, Rivet and forge and fear no scar!

Heave a hammer With anvil clamor, To weld and brace for Gamelbar!

Ring for Gamel!

Rung for Gamel!

_Ring-rung-ring_ for Gamelbar!

Yeomen, shout for Gamelbar, And his battle-hand in war!

Heave his pennon; Cheer his men on, In the ranks of Gamelbar!

Strength for Gamel, Song for Gamel, One war-song for Gamelbar!

Roncliffe, shout for Gamelbar!