LE5'. 189^ fN;, fS ASIA CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY THE WASON CHINESE COLLECTION tli.li (I'taTlu'-iTVii^nHU- Cornell University Library PR 6003.L25 1894 3 1924 023 395 845 Cornell University Library The original of tiiis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/cletails/cu31924023395845 LAYS AND RELAYS BY "TUNG CHIA," BEING SELECTIONS FROM THE "LAYS OF FAR CATHAY," WITH MANY ADDITIONS AND NKW ILLUSTRATIONS. •^^^ Shanghai, Yokohama, Ilon^kon^, Singapore, KELLY & WALSH, Limited. TO SIR ROBERT HART, Bart., G.C.M.G. "the great I. G." Tins littlp lioolH is rti'iliratml, as 3 sliylit to];pn of admiration and in liindly recollection of manij hnppij daijs h]} the (Author. -S-fS.^- Btiilder ! upon tliy toil and iJiee IVe from our tents do ever ^aze Wondering : and sliall thy work not see Its >rcord in fat-distani days ? Shanghai, 30 June, iSg4. CONTENTS. TO H. I. M. KWAXGIISU. ..... I USQUE TANDEM 7 ....... 6 SIC TRANSIT ....... 9 LINES TO A GLOBE TKOTTER . . . . • H PACK, SHROFFS, AWAY ...... 1/ TO MV BOY 1 8 AN ICHANG exile's PRAYER. . . . . 2 1 TO A SLEEPING RICKSHAW COOLIE . . . .24 AN AUTUMN IDYLL ...... 2/ SUPER FLUMINA . . . . . . -31 TO A SUPERANNUATED SUN-HAT .... 35 A BALLADE OF CIVILISATION . . . . -39 "the BOAT THAT ONCE." ..... 4I ODE ON THE REAPPEAKANCE OF THE PUNKAH COOLIE. 42 VOX NOCTIS. ....... 46 TO MY COM PR ADO RE . . . . . .48 VESTIGIA RERUM . . . . . . . 5 I LINES TO AN OLD CHIT-BOOK ..... 54 LE ROI s'aMUSE : A FOKECAST .... 57 XMAS ......... 64 "the GLORIOUS TWELFTH." .... 65 A BALLADE OF JUNE. ...... 6/ ARCADES AMBO ....... 69 METAMORPHOSIS ....,., 74 " LIGHTS OF ASIA. ..... TO A MANILA LOTTERY TICKET, — THAT DID NOT WIN IN MEMORIAM "CHINESE TIMES." A TRIUMPH OF DIPLOMACY .... COREA ........ TO A GRIFFIN ....... BALLADE OF THE TEA SEASON " AUX ROIS EN EXIL." ..... MAXIMS AFTER HAFIZ ..... TO CONFUCIUS ....... THE STORY OF A HYPHEN .... THAT WILY CHAASZEE, OR HARTE-FELT REVERSES HEREDITARY BONDSMEN TO AN INCONSTANT ONE ..... TO A NEWSPAPER CORRESPONDENT AT AN OUTPORT " GAUDEAMUS IGITUR." ..... ERIN GO BRAGH ! . JUPITER PLUVIUS ...... oh! blame not THE BARD. TO MY PIPE ...... TO An' OLDEST BOOTS ..... LINES TO A MUMMY. ..... MADRIGAL ....... TO THE EVER GENTLE READER .... PAGH 79 I. 89 92 • 93 96 • 97 99 . lOI 104 . 107 1 10 . 114 118 . 12 1 123 . 126 128 • 131 136 . 138 141 • 144 • 149 151 TO H.I.M. KWANGHSiJ, EMPEROR OF ALL CATHAY : (A Sympathetic Strain). Prisoner of ancient customs and routine, Captive of etiquette's unyielding sway, Not yours, Kwanghsii, for many years, I ween, To soothe your soul with this my simple lay. Poor precious human atom, fettered so And guarded by a most unholy crew, You run small chance of ever learning how A fellow man has thought and rhymed of you. I doubt not but your youthful Majesty Doth often pine within the gilded cage And weary of hnperial Policy Discussed with persons of a hoary age ; And I should think it probable you hate Being each morning summoned from your bed To the cold Council seat and cares of state Before Aurora's finger tips are red ; With all the limits of a monarch's range, The mummery, the ever-ready lie. No prospect either of reUef or change Oh Son of Heaven, this side Eternity ! Hapless automaton ! I hope that some Of all the wives the Dowager supplied Are good to look upon, and that they come At times, to play and prattle by your side ; And if there be a maid with sunny eyes Whom you should fancy, Brother of the Sun, I hope the Regulations authorise A tete-a-tete, when all your work is done. Or does it always beat upon your head That light which shines upon the Dragon throne ? Do eunuchs follow you from board to bed, And have you not one sanctum of your own ? — But there, I don't suppose, that any man Who has more wives than he can like to count Thinks much of sunny eyes or ever can Use sentiment to any great amount ; I don't suppose, Kwanghsii, you ever tried The gentle muse to win a maiden's heart ; I can't imagine that you ever sighed For kisses won by stratagem or art ? Not yours to know a lover's woes, the pain Of being left by Celia in the lurch — You never were by moonlight in a lane Escorting: fair Amanda home from church. '& You never heard the skylark tune its throat To morning and the welcome breath of May, Nor ever marked the night-bound heron's note Break on the stillness of the slumbering bay. And yet such joys as man hath never known T'were hard, I trow, that he should ever miss- Therefore, Kwanghsii, I will no longer moan O'er what you lack of common earthly bliss. Long may you live within tlie yellow walls, Long by your censors worthily be led ; May good digestion answer all your calls And providence vouchsafe that, in your bed They suffer you eventually to die, May your existence please the general good So that between your ribs no dagger pry Or any man put strychnine in your food ; And if some day (the thing way well be so. Since Martin's Natural Philosophy Did find its solid way a year ago Into your presence and your library And since, it seems, you have survived the same :) If then, I say, by some auspicious fate. Some mandarin of pure, exalted aim Or patriot supporter of the state Shall find a way for these my artless lays Into your gracious and Imperial hands. And you therefrom glean something of the ways Of us who come to you from outer lands ; If also haplj', (which may be the case) They should depict for you in homely guise Some toilers of the patient Chinese race Whose rugged paths lie not beneath your eyes ; Some simple lore for which our mother earth Has found no way into the Palace yet, Some lisping utterance, which may be worth More than the twaddle of a Court Gazette : If so, I humbly beg your Majesty To order that the proper Board shall pay Some modest pension annually to me. Whereby I may take leave of Far Cathay But, as I said when I began this lay I don't at all anticipate it should (And more's the pity) either in your day Or mine, do either of us any good. USOUE TANDEM? Lo, Brethren at the Treaty Ports, I come Tablets in hand before you — and I ask What now is all the prospect of our task, And what of our realities the sum ? Why do we deck the ending of our toil With things that shall not be ? The Lotus ways Hold us, all listless ; and our summer days Leave us still exiles on an alien soil. Lo, it was Hope that led us long ago ; We saw the trodden path, but failed to see Our good therein ; and so, full restlessly, Hope led us forth. But, brethren, ye know. What were the hopes ye had, what the way That now ye tread ; and shall we say "The road Draws to its close perhaps with lighter load ?" — Come, let us know the reason of our stay. Is it ambition ? By what mighty deed Shall you or I find fame in Far Cathay ? Lo, even he who holds a Consul's sway Shall vainly at the last for Knighthood plead. Look in our silent acre down the glen. Simple and short the epitaphs ye find ; No story of success wherewith to bind High name and fame to distant country-men. Or is it Riches? Doth the "golden" East Paint roseate visions to the hopeful eye Of fdrtunes rapid as in days gone by ? Prius dementat! this the last and least Of all our lot : go now, and scan the roll Of English hongs ten years ago, and see How many have withstood the shocks that tea Or silver's freaks have dealt. Ye know the toll Of native honesty on all our gains, Ye too have seen our comrades take their way Across the Stj^x, nor leave enough to pay For one carved stone to cover their remains. It is perchance j'e love the life apart In lone Wuhu or water-girt Sha-meen, Content to let your days slip by, serene, Far from the hum of all the social mart ? But quiet dwells not in the midst of fears Save quiet such as sleeping yEtnas give : Ye know the rabble amidst whom ye live And not in vain their record of past years. Nor may it be unto a nobler end That ye are here ; to wage a hopeless fight 'Gainst ignorance and sin for truth and right Mid horrors that all time shall never mend. Think ye to feed with bread the carrion crow ? Then take your Christian creed to the Chinese, While the deep voice of London's miseries Brings you no message of her endless woe. Or can it be for Luxury that we, Careless of all that brings it not, would sell Our birthright and the land we love so well For comfort and the base servility Of sordid slaves ? Do we, the ages' heirs, Forego all things that make us so, to please Our souls with larger sense of Capuan ease, Shutting our eyes to what the future bears i* Content to take the wages of to-day In fatness, though the leaner years must come Giving the old traditions of our home For one more dish at meals, or fine array ? — Therefore it is, my Brethren, that I come. Tablets in hand, before you — and I ask What now is all the prospect of our task And what of our realities the sum ? ^^\ ^^■•a..'^' SIC TRANSIT. (An Idyll without a King.) 'Tis said it was the spirit of the land That grew upon them — they were mostly men Of birth and culture, whom their native states Had chosen to send forth, ambassadors. From many a favoured shore where truth and light Had made their home, where peaceful arts had shed Their brightest rays ; from fields of classic song Whose softening accents ring .from age to age, They came to Far Cathay — a little band Prepared to bear the torch of progress on And carry it throughout that heathen land. 'Twas with the noblest purpose they had left Such shores as none could leave without regret, Where every passing day can stir the pulse With throbs unknown to Oriental sloth : So all their peers had bade them speed and gave Fair promise of the deeds that they should do ; How, like their forbears, they should help to clear A way through ignorance and vicious pride To harmony, — and better thus the world. II II. But to each one it fell (we know not how ; 'Tis said it was the spirit of that land) That soon his pristine ardour died away ; It seemed almost as if the mouldring walls Of that Peking which typifies decay Shut out all purpose, shutting in the man. As if each roof, in that foul street where lodge The envoys of proud states, had thrown the shade Of apathy on those who dwelt below To rob them of their power and their will. It was as though o'er all the city's gates Were written Dante's words, and that all hope Of fruitful work left those who entered there. It was a piteous thing to see the ebb Of energy and zeal, to mark the growth Of passive rust on minds that once were keen. As pebbles taken from the running brook Lose all their brightness 'neath th'insidious moss, So, 'neath the flagstaffs of the greatest Powers (In men who loved these flags for all they told Of chivalry and honour, right and truth) Grew up a tolerance of ways Chinese, A certain toying with the flight of Time, With jugglery of words, and willingness To let things right themselves ;. then later still It seemed as if the mind of petty trade, 12 Haggling and bargains (which be as the breath Of China's nostrils) crept into their souls, So that, forgetting all their nobler aims, Each sought to introduce cheap cloth and iron rails. III. 'Twas to this weak, ignoble end they lost Their unity, competing one and all. While Chinese 'diplomats ' were still and smiled, And China's monarch held them all to be Barbarians, unfit to see his face. 'Twas pitiful to see the highest aims Give way before base purposes of greed, To watch the little path that had been won By sturdy valour of the foremost few Grow thick and tangled by the many weeds Of late diplomacy : to see the loss Of early treaties in their latter days. IV. Meanwhile the people of that heathen land. Like sparrows that have found a blinded hawk, Grew insolent apace, and year by year Respect and wholesome fear gave way to scorn. The common herd, not slow to ape the moods Of those above them, met with sullen looks, Hustlings and jeers, the strangers in their midst ; 13 Then, as it seemed the passive spirit grew With every insult, words gave place to deeds, Till fire and plunder were the common lot Of unprotected merchants and their wares, And still their leaders slept ; at times it seemed (When some new outrage made the country ring) As if the spell must break and wrath be roused With strength to crush all China at a blow. But well the wily Mongol played his game With honied speech and temporising gifts ; And ever came the necessary sop — Some contract, loan, monopoly or pact — At sight of which all wrongs were laid aside. And men who had ' full powers ' used them not, Forgetting the traditions of their race. And thus things went from bad to worse, while men Sat sadly wondering what the end would be. And at their parlous state, of which no cause They knew, except the spirit of the land. But of those latter days, and what befell Leaders and led, not mine to-day to tell. 14 LINES TO A GLOBE TROTTER. — >-M — Trotter of the Globe who trottest Up and down in every clime, From the coldest to the hottest — Listen to my simple rhyme. Thou who seekest pleasure, taking Dollars from thy father's tills, Dollars which he earned in making Soap, or antibilious pills. He, good soul, when he had made his Pile, at home did gladly stay ; Lived at ease, and still displayed his H's in his curious way. But he gave thee mental padding (Man)' hundred pounds it took) ; Then, alas ! he sent thee gadding On the lines laid down by Cook. A'es ' I see in thee the feller. Type of this exploring age, Who, with deftly-used umbrella Prods the monkey in his cage. 15 Sadly Egypt sees thee crawling Up the landmarks of her race, Scaling Cheop's tomb and scrawling " Smith — and pal," upon its face. Sadly India sees thee linger By her holy Ganges' tide, Pointing out Avith ribald finger Spots described in Murray's Guide. Not with pious joy, but slowly. Sadly, to his evening pra)'er Goes the priest of Vishnu, lo ! the Reason is that thou art there. Sad the Japanese who sees thy Curious hat and awful clothes, Feeling that no art can please thy Taste, which nought but shoddy knows. Sad the Daimio's'^' thoughts and bitter (Ah ! that glory's sun should pale). Whilst his country thou dost litter With cheroots and Bass's Ale. And he fully realises By the note-book in thy hand, Thou will print as many lies as There are temples in his land. * Retired, brought back under poetical license. i6 Gentle trotter, I would pray thee, Keep away from China's shore — Any other land will pay thee. For thy time and trouble, more. All our Treaty Ports are sleepy. Scarcely worthy of abuse ; Not the sort of place to keep a Diary for future use. No ! we have no startling wonders, Nothing really fit to show, And our most authentic Bunders Have been published years ago. Trotter of the Globe ! thy legions Swarm now yearly worse and worse If it keep thee from these regions Not in vain my humble verse. 17 PACK, SHROFFS, AWAY AN ORIENTAL PASTORAL (After Heywood). ►•< Pack, shroffs, away ; the things you say Have filled my day with sorrow ; And, Compradore, let me implore You, come again to-morrow ! Please bear in mind how blithe and kind You were when first I'd borrow ; So go your way ; some other day I'll pay — perhaps to-morrow. {To pay them all to-moryoi^' notes from tJic Bank F II borrmv). Each morn brings back this noisome pack Which knows my means are narrow. With many a bill, for which they will Not wait until to-morrow : What joys have I in sunny sky In song of lark or sparrow ? Though now they go, full well I know They'll come again to-morrow ! [Now beg or steal or borrow Pay them, I must to-morrow f) v^=»)|6"gs • IS TO MY BOY. Thou of the ahnond ej'es ! Reveller in chronic lies (Think not that I despise If I abuse thee) ; List, while I sing thy praise, For, since I'll pass my days Near thee, thy playful ways Only amuse me. 19 What if thou yearly try Make me believe that thy Mother "have makee die," Leaving thee orphan ? Take thy week's leave and go ! Knowing that I well know Mothers don't perish so Annually — often. What if my monthly bills Come, like all worldly ills, Not singly, as do pills, But in battalions ; Ere thou hadst learnt to stand Squeezers took thee in hand, Taught by Confucius and Other rapscallions. What if my under-clothes. Silken and woollen hose, Thy graceless limbs enclose Winter and autumn ? — Let it be understood They're for our common i^ood, I knew that matters stood Thus, when I bought 'em. 20 What if I am aware That in thy pantry lair Water's uncommon rare, Washing's a bother ; — Useless to sally forth, Capture, with righteous wrath, That ancient scrubbing cloth — Thou hast another. If, 'neath my very eye, Like clouds in summer sky, My best cheroots should fly, — Will I prevent it ? No, boy, go on and steal, 'Tis I, not thou, who feel Foolish, when I appeal, Or would resent it. No ! go thy sage-taught way ; I, thine elected prey. Will not thy right gainsay, Ne'er thy joys mar. Let Each seek the other's ease. Spite of thy frequent squeeze Thou dost thy best to please : Here's to thee, varlet ! 21 AN ICHANG EXILE'S PRAYER. {AfU-y the Trai^cdy and Subsequent Farce at Sung/iu.) *•* Because, oh Lord, there is none other way Whereby we may escape these evil days. Because we are as jetsam on the strand, Forgotten of our country and our kin, We, who join East to West, the pioneers Of many better days that are to be. Because we, ever toiling overseas, We who have sold our heritage, our all, Excepting certain ancient chartered rights To breathe Thine air and tread the common earth ; Now see these rights invaded day by day By the encroaching tide of pagan wiles. Of native insolence and savagery. Because the distant fate of Margary Is coming ever nearer to our doors. And deeds which once had set the world ablaze. Ay, even to the starting of Crusades, Are looked upon as commonplace and trite. Because a murdered Christian does not bring. As did with Rome's proud citizens of old, Swift-footed vengeance on the slayers' track, But is atoned for by official lies And certain hideous payments of sycee, Which, on a rapidly descending scale, Will soon attain that meagre estimate At which they quoted sparrows long ago. Because we know not whose it next shall be To guard his home against the howling mob. To be the victim of their fierce attack. And then of mild, politely-penned, despatch, To leave his mangled carcase in the street, With face uncovered, while the Consul sits In some Viceregal Yamen, over tea. Assessing the small value of the dead. And last, because the sacredness of Hfe Rests on nice points of quality and clothes : Therefore it is, oh ! Lord, that now we pray, When next the rabble moves to deeds of blood. Let not the pillage or the slaughter be Of Customs hireling or merchant churl. Or humble missionary, glad to gain Exit from trouble to a martyr's crown, But rather grant, when the incited mob, Like unleashed bloodhound, seeks its nearest prey, That it may find obtrusive on its path Some personage important to the state, Or high official representative, Some travelling faddist, potent in the press, Or information-gathering M.P., Some Anti- Opium League authority. 23 Aristocratic trotter of the Globe, Or human atom authorised to wear Gold lace upon the edges of his clothes, Upon whose taking- off there shall ensue The steady tramp of solid infantry And inexpensive Chinese funerals ; That, with the thunder of artillery, And sack of goodly cities, there may be Restored again that wholesome deference, That usual and necessary respect Which, from the Asiatic, is our due — And thus, from evil, shall arise great good. ) ^.^.^.^^^^^^ 24 TO A SLEEPING RICKSHAW COOLIE. I sit in the verandah shade And watch him as he sleeps, While slowly up his drooping- form A waning sunbeam creeps ; Upon his rickshaw's seat he's laid His head in sweet repose, And soon the setting sun will warm A most plebeian nose. Thy lot is hard, thy paths are rough, Poor coolie of Shanghai, — 25 Dull care is written on thy brow And hunger in thine eye ; Thy coat is of the poorest stuff, Thy breeches past all hope ; And oh ! 'twill ne'er be thine to know The blessedness of soap. Thy rickshaw is a thing of woe, Thy pace is far from fleet ; A guilty conscience makes thee flee The bobby on his beat ; For in thy heart dost not thou know The way thou didst prevail On some poor wretch to pawn to thee His licence, when in gaol ? Sad creature of a few short years, Poor aimless, shiftless man ! Hast ever heard of him who draws The rickshaw of Japan ? He, blithesome being, little cares For forty miles or more, — For thee 'twould be to tempt the jaws Of Death to go a score. Poor waif! one likes thee better far Asleep ; — one really feels Rejoiced to pass thee and to find No rickshaw at one's heels. 26 No grating voice is there to jar Upon one, and thy clothes Diffuse no garlic on the wind When thou art in repose. And whilst thou sleepest in the sun, The never-ceasing throng Of those who bend beneath their load Toils wearily along. What matters it should they have won More cash than thee to-day ? Thou hast oblivion, and the road Of Life is none too gay. Dream on then, hapless son of toil Dream of a joyous land In which no work of any type Shall come to soil thy hand ; Where no grim peelers e'er shall spoil The perfectness of rest, — And lovely slaves shall fill thy pipe With opium of the best. 27 AN AUTUMN IDYLL. Siui'i'i lohcn the dawn is i^rii]', Sweet when they've eleared away Liineh — and at close of day Possibly sweetest. Calverley. A cool North-Easter's blowing, The summer's back is broke, And deep within me's growing The old desire to smoke. Come from your lurking places Each well-beloved pipe, Now let me from your faces The dust and mildew wipe. " Earth hath no joy," says Byron, " Like that it takes away," And oh, there's something dire in The change that comes in May : It steals upon the smoker Insidious as such snares As blue-and-white, or poker, Steal on us, — unawares. How is it that in summer, When everyone we see Is usually glummer Than it is nice to be, When many joys we're used to Have vanished from the scene, — How is it we must lose, too. Our taste for Nicotine ? 'Tis hard when one is troubled On sultry sleepless nights, When insect foes have doubled Their savage appetites. To find we give the soother, Who never failed of old To make liie's furrows smoother, A shoulder more than cold. 29 Oh, if when all around me Is clamminess and heat, Some kindly sprite but found me A pipe as clean and sweet As those one fills in winter With baccy fairly dry — I don't think I'd give in to The evils of July. If any incantation When August's in full swing, A gentle inclination For honey-dew could bring, How glad the parboiled sinner To feel the pipe's soft balm Steal o'er him after dinner With all its former charm. But there ! No sad repining Can make our burdens light. And there's a silver lining To clouds as black as night. Had not the summer's spell come To make us disagree. Not mine to-day to welcome iMy pipe's return to me. They say that Eros hovers With best intent about 30 The path of any lovers Who now and then fall out ; And 'tis the blind god's willing, When little tiffs are o'er, That such should find their billing Much sweeter than before. So from the musty places Where you, my pipes, were tossed Come forth, and let the traces Of evil days be lost. Come, G.B.D.'s and briars, Come, softly coloured clay. And soon your " wonted fires " Shall soothe the close of day. 31 SUPER FLUMIKA. I sit upon a rugged bench By Yangtze's muddy tide, In lone Wuhu, and a horrid stench Comes up from every side — A breath of things which have had their day, A flavour typical of Cathay, And I ask " Was there then no other way That Fate might be satisfied? " I may have asked the self-same thinfT A dozen times or more, But it never worked its bitter stinc;- So viciously before : If thirty million men can be On English soil, there is room for me — Wliy then hast thou dumped me, Destiny, Upon this alien shore ? Here nothing softens in the least A wretched exile's lot, (For the legends of the gorgeous East Are so much ' tommy rot ') How did I come here ? I don't know ; It all seems so very long ago — Perhaps I enjoyed the P. and O., And the first month's pay I got. I hardly think they simply meant Perpetuating lies, My friends who preached the Orient, Its wealth and mysteries — But I've never seen the lotos-land, Of spicy breezes and jewelled sand, Or happened to meet with a laughing band Of maids with wondrous eyes. 33 Ten years to me have ne'er displayed The glamour of the East, Nor any of the stock-in-trade Of the Theosophist And as for wealth, bah ! silver may Be very pretty, but — as pay — It does'nt help for a rainy day, Not in the very least. I do not know but that a man Occasionally may find In Persia, or in gay Japan, Romances, of a kind ; And Indian poets tell some tall Stories of things which there befall — - But Chinamen are not at all Romantically inclined. Not that I would expect to see Them creatures of delight, But I would like them just to be A little more polite ; I wish they'd give up throwing stones, And muttering in undertones. About ' Yang-kuei,' and broken bones, When I go out at night. 34 Also I'd grumble less if I Might vegetate at ease, If thej' would somewhat simplify Their never ending squeeze, If they would only take my pay, Without disputes, and go their way,— I don't like being potter's clay Beneath a hand Chinese. Heigho ! in pestilential heat Another day has died ; Who knows, I might achieve the feat Of sleeping, if I tried : Bright prospect ! Gad, I am afraid I'll moulder here till quite decayed. And then, no doubt, I shall be laid In ground unsanctified. 35 TO A SUPERANNUATED SUN-HAT A time there is for all things, and that time Has come, old friend, for me and thee to part. Well hast thou served me ; in this Eastern clime We've journeyed long together, and my heart Grieves now to leave thee, who hast held my head For many seasons 'neath thy grateful shade. Dost recollect the dusky, under-fed 36 Son of the desert, unto whom I paid, In a small store at Aden, eight rupees That I might own thee ? Then I thought thee dear (Being all ignorant yet of Eastern squeeze), But feeling now the hour of parting near I hold thee dearer still, for, as I gaze Upon thy battered features, every line Brings back to memory something of bright days Alas ! too swiftly sped. Would it were mine To bring them back again, to tread once more That pleasant path, which, looking back, now seems To fade from out my sight — even as a shore On which the sunset's lingering glamour gleams. Grows dimmer as we gaze, and slowly disappears. It cannot be. So here we separate ; Mine still to journey on a few brief years Till, battered like thyself, I yield to fate. Yes, when I look upon thee now, old friend. Thy many scars and wrinkles bring me back To far-off spots ; distance and memory lend To each a softening touch. See here, this crack Running from crown to brim, through which protrudes Thy native cork — it, I believe, must date From that gay outport's race day, where the moods Of men are those v/hich chiefly emanate, On gala days, from Roederer and Munim ; A merry crowd, in wiiich hats w^ent their way 37 And men did shout till shouting made them dumb Because some chestnut horse could beat a grey. And here again, these marks within thy crown ; Ah yes ! 'twas but a year ago last May Since that sweet evening when we wandered down Together, she and I, the path that lay Homeward, through winding valleys from the shrine Of Buddha's temple nestling on the hill ; xA while we lingered where the fragrant pine Cast its cool shade, and there while she did fill Thy crown with fairy moss and forest fern I made a wreath of flowers for her hair. And there we promised that, let I^ate be stern, We'd face it side by side, — together share Life's pleasures and its pains, its hopes and fears. Where is she now ? I know not ; but I'm told She's married Jones, Q.C. ; and it appears Somehow her love grew very quickly cold When she discovered that my yearly pay Was half her estimate ; still, then it seemed to me That love like ours could never pass awa)-. Nay, must endure for all eternity ; Alas for Love's young dream, — nought now remains Of all the glamour of those swift-winged hours Save fadincr memories, and the time-worn stains Left on thy lining by those forest flowers. And thus, old friend, we part ; thy final lot Shall be cremation, worthy of thy life. No coarser fate for thee. Imagine not That I shall leave thee to prolong the strife 'Gainst time and wear and tear. Not thine to grace Some 'ricksha coolie's soap-ignoring head ; Not thine to hang for sale in some low place. Vale ! old friend; thy last Adieu is said! 39 A BALLADE OF CIVILLSATION. A wedding at St. George's : through the door A glimpse of silk and flowers. The nuptial song Peals bravely. " He, you say, is sixty-four. Divorced a year ago? Though she is young, That dainty bride, the waiting may be long Ere Death sets money and her title free:" (Thus a bystander). From the chattering throng My -thoughts find comfort o'er an Eastern sea. A monster meeting in the Park : the roar Of poor blind beasts who feel that thej- are strong, Yet struggle vainly, beating evermore Against the bars of Self and Fate and Wrong ; Passionate heart and fiercely clamouring tongue For dynamite or bread — and yet there be Four hundred millions who at evensong Rest, oh Gautama, well content in thee ! Whitechapel streets at sunset, where the poor Child waifs of sin play piteously along Their native gutters ; mothers stand before The flaring gin-shop sullenly — the wrong, The curse they know — and know too, that among Such life's reliefs oblivion first must be : And yet — all Tokio's alleyways with song Are sweet to day, with flowers and harmony. 40 E72VOi. Masters, Avhose boast of progress doth prolong Our barbarisms, our crime, our misery ! Life can be sweet and summer linger long By nobler paths, o'er many an Eastern sea. 41 " THE BOAT THAT ONCE." A.D. iSSg. The boat that once for far Chungking Was built and pushed ahead Now idle lies, as if the Ring That built that boat were dead ; 'Tis thus another venture ends On Woosung's slimy shore, And men who hoped for dividends Now hope for them no more. No more are meetings edified With visions roseate, The boat which swings with every tide Tells its sad tale — too late ; For British Trade so seldom wakes ; The only sign it gives Is when it sometimes makes mistakes — Like this — to show it lives ! Alas, how Little has been done By our diplomacy ! Behold, how native craft now run Where the " Ruling " should be ! And native craft will see, I trow. The end of us and steam Meanwhile — the Chungking Transport Co. Sails cargo boats up stream ! 42 ODE ON THE REAPPEARANCE OF THE PUNKAH COOLIE. Now Helios, with consuming rays Has stayed swift Acteon's feet, And ours is stress of summer days And burden of his heat. Now fiercer grows H)'perion's son W^ith every course, and, one by one Come sisrns of thlnsjs that are to be : Mark how our garments daily shrink. Note well the ice in every drink (Note too the frequency). Observe how well-starched collars can't Stand firm, that once were strong ; Hark ! how the bold mosquitoes chant Their vicious evensong. Henceforth, for three long months or so 'Tis ours to mop the troubled brow Or soothe the prickly-heated face ; Either to clamminess a prey, Or roasted by the god of day, As haps to be the case. 43 Henceforth it shall be hard to sleep, Toeat, or think, or read, Soon shall the cockroach vigil keep Beside the centipede ; Now every lucky wight who can Do so, looks forward to Japan (SSfhere, pace Scott* all things And now, with weary air and grave Wu Feng, the ancient punkah slave Comes from his secret lair. *Only Clement. 44 As comes in spring the rugged bear From lonely mountain caves, As bats squeak through the summer air That wintered in the eaves, So, each succeeding year, as soon As muggy heat doth herald June, Comes this ill-favoured son of Han, With melancholy mien and gaunt, From some base evil-smelling haunt Unknown to decent man. And now through many a summer day We'll sit, this waif and I, Each working for his meagre pay Beneath the other's eye ; And though too frequently perhaps His punkah moves with sleepy flaps, When Wu doth slumbrously incline, I have no doubt that in his soul He looks upon his monthly dole As better earned than mine. Two human atoms wandering Upon life's shoreless seas, Both he who pulls the punkah string And he who feels the breeez : Yet Clotho spins for mortal men, 45 And In some world beyond our ken Perchance Wu Feng in state shall sit, While I exist as best I can — For all the destinies of man Lie deeper than his wit. 46 VOX NOCTIS. — ►»• — When upon my broad verandah, Sunset glowing in the west, Dreamily my thoughts meander And my spirit is at rest, — When the woolly bats are squeaking Up and down along the eaves. When the stupid moths are seeking Honey in the ivy-leaves, — When the crescent moon is bringing Beauty to the stilly night. And the crickets are beginnincr Serenades, which end in fight, — When the voice of night is calling And the stars their roll-call say, When swift meteors are falling Not unnoticed, as by day, — Then it is the spell is broken, And, loud borne upon the breeze, Statements reach me, rashly spoken, All about the families 47 Of my boy, my cook, my coolie. With their ancestors and friends, Conversation most unruly, Which eventually^ends In my emptying the water Standing ready for my tub. Straight and swift towards the quarter Whence is comine the hubbub — But I ask myself — supposing Half these statements to be true, Is it any use proposing We should civilize this crew? 48 TO MY COMPRADORE. Thou of the broad- rimmed tortoise specs, My Compradore ! With whom the nimble merry Mexs. Seem to increase and grow galore, Whose life consists, for all I know, In watching how thy totals grow, — Lend me some more In vain I've studied thee and thine ; I am content To look upon thee as a mine Of wealth, to use when mine is spent ; To thee in trouble I repair And shift on thee my load of care At ten per cent. My bills grow longer day by day ; The motley crew Of those who clamour for my pay I send to thee to get their due ; — Let men discuss it if they please, I still maintain that some Chinese Are human too. 49 Not only in that thou dost lend. I look on thee As on a comforter ; a friend Art thou in all sincerity. No duns of mine e'er tire thy Goodwill, and I admire thy Philosophy. My friend ! I fain would see thee when, On pleasure bent, Thou minglest with thy fellow-men. Thy mind from pidgin all unbent, — To see thee and thy pals at play, To hear thee laugh, and watch the way Thj- coin is spent. When work is o'er at eventide I often see Thy ready-reckoner cast aside W^ith thoughts of cash and dull sycee ; I watch thee go with aspect meek ; Can it be true that thou dost seek Some jambooree ? Oh ! can'st thou haply lay aside That stately air, That calm abstraction, simple pride. And cast off dignit)- with care ? so Hast thou some sincj-sonc^ chow in view, Or possibl)' dost thou pursue Some love affair ; But be thou sage, or be thou fool, M)' Compradore ; A gentleman of Nature's school Art thou, and full of simple lore. Thou hast a certain native grace, Full (as thy purse is) is thy face, — Lend me more ! 51 m -i:-.. him si-'^" '^t2^ V'J^wi- ■m-'-i- '^ti VESTIGIA RERUM. I sometimes wonder whether in the whole Of China there exists a spot with room Sufficient for a man to take his stroll Unmarred by any shape or form of tomb Their dead are everywhere — amongst the wheat Between the furrows of the thrifty field, Those who existed but to sleep and eat Now to the earth again their fatness yield. Ages ago, toward the dawn of days Back to the time that learned of Tubal Cain, These sons of Han mocked Nature's fairest ways With monuments of human toil and pain. 52 Go where you will, the great unnumbered dead Mock at the living and their little day, Earth's face is marred by spots unhallowed, Where countless generations went the way Of dusty Death, that eased them of Life's ills ; From bleak Chihli to southern streams that lave The feet of sunlit, tombstone-covered hills. The very air we breathe is of the grave ; The sordid past, like to some nightmare beast. Stifles the present in its infancy With dirge as of some lovely Trappist priest " Memento mori — toil awhile and die." And shall we deem it strange that in this land Men reck no more of laughter and of Love, Shall Corydon and Phyllis, hand in hand. Prattle soft nothings in the cypress grove ? Shall Chloris lie a-dreaming in the shade Where stands the matted coffin of the slave. Shall any man give tryst unto a maid By moonlight, in the shadow of a grave 3 Shall there be any jo)- of life for men When Death's sad trophies stand in all their wa}'s ? Shall children come with laughter down the glen Where dwell the spirits ot forgotten days ? S3 The Flowery Land forsooth ! a cynic he Who decked thee with the name, and grim of jest ; Thy blossoms are the sign humanity Gives of the passing of a soul to rest. W'hither have drifted all those pallid ghosts, Past Legions of innumerable Chinese — Drops that have fallen in uncounted hosts Into Eternity's dark, silent seas ? Where are they now ? Is all the starry space Filled with the language these Celestials speak ? If so, I humbly trust there is a place Reserved for those w^hose eyes are not oblique. 1 state a fact — nor wish to be unkind, — Brisht Paradise will lack a charm for me And for my family, if there we find The Mongol race in a majority. So when I look around and think of what The mighty record of the past must be, I come to the conclusion I will not Believe in Chinese immortality. S4 LINES TO AN OLD CIIIT-BOOK. Mouldy thou art, — thou liast sufiered much From mildew and damp, and age, But many a vanislied hand's soft touch Rests on each faded page. Six years I have used thee, and tUl now Thy cover has lasted well ; Thou knowest far more of that time, I trow, Than ever myself could tell. Six years — now viewed in thy light they make One volume upon the shelf; How man}', I wonder, till I shall take Leave of life's cares myself? But a lesson I read as I contemplate Thy record, and scan thee o'er, That matters which first seem big -with Fate Pass by, and are seen no more. For as I lool; o\er the chits sent out. And their marginal short replies, I can't rcci)llect what 't\\as all about ; Thus Time vvith tleet Memory flies ! 55 JT7/0 was this Mrs. Smith, and why In pencil record her grief? Had she asked me to tiffin, and then had I Refused — to her o-reat relief? & And here, De Tompkins, who puts, I see, "With pleasure," — in violet ink. Had I asked him to dinner, and who was he ? Stay ! when I come to think, — De T. was a stranger in the land, Travelling from town to town ; See here, I notice his bold, free hand A few lines farther down. This time, however, he puts " Will send," — What was it he sent to me? Had he held bad cards, — or did he but lend A novel I'd asked to see ? Yet there are some I remember well, Remember each line I wrote, Yes ! and the smile of the "boy" when I'd tell Where he should take the note. I know that I sent a chit each day, With something — a book or flower — Something to give me a chance to say I thought of her every hour. 56 'Twas long ago — and yet now, in dreams, Often I see sweet Kate ; But, when I think of those days it seems, 'Twas Idleness all- — not Fate. Ah ! idle moments and far between, Idle, yet happy too ! Their sum is not in one's life, I ween. More than a week or two. Well well ! go back to thy shelf to-da)', Rest, since thy labour's o'er ; Some da}', when my hair is turning grc)-, I'll study my )'outh once more ! 57 LE ROI S'AMUSE : A FORECAST. [The Emperor of China is studying Enghsh — who can foretell the consequence of this step ? — Peking Correspondent.'] Time : Early morning, ist March, i8gg. Place : Smokincr-room in the Palace. His Majesty Kuang Hsii discovered reading in an easy chair ti'ith his feet on the fender and a pipe in his mouth. Beside him a table littered with letters, Punch, the Graphic, etc., etc. To hint enter {annotmced by slave vi ycllmo livery) their Excellencies Wu, the Lord Chamberlain and Chin, Chancellor of the Exchequer : they remain — on ' all fours." His Majesty lays down book : His Majesty. — I'm wearied of Carlyle — his Teufels- drockh Speaks not the language of the Tung Wen Kuan ; Besides, he is Teutonically inclined, Which, since that riot business, I am not ; Wherefore — no more Carlyle ! Good gentlemen, I pray you rise ; and you, sagacious Wu, Take pen and ink and write to Dr. Ma, " Henceforth ourselves will choose the hundred books 58 Best suited to the forming of our mind." Our mind, indeed ! I wonder does he think That Bacon Plato, — aye, or Socrates, Can add one virtue to the Five we have ? 'Tis not for mind, but matter, that we read, Such matter as will help us to acquire The art of foiling sundry little games. My mind, indeed ! — seven toilful years have sped Since first I laboured through the ABC; Seven years of labour. What is the result ? A few vexed questions or disputed points, A few new theories and ways to live. Perchance a little wisdom here and there, Though wrapped in matter foreign to our taste. What was it last? Bunyan or Mrs. Ward, Marcus Aurelius, Dickens or Macbeth ? I know not : neither, so far, do I know Why I am here, where going or whence come. A year ago I read the ' Book of Books,' Greatly advised thereto — ah, 'tis a book Of precious wisdom, and right well it were Did all men live the life therein laid down ; Yet found I nothing of the hundred sects That come to teach us each a different way Through bigotry to everlasting life. The spirit of that teaching won my heart, But not the teachers — men intolerant, Disputing o'er the letter of the Word, 59 Each seeing It obscurely through the mist Arising from the bias of his mind. Aye, we would spread this Book throughout Cathay, But not the mummeries of wrangling priests, The pomp and pride and circumstance of sects. But there, enough of books ! Only, good Wu, See that you order swiftly and procure A Beeton's Cookery and Kipling's last. And now, most worthy Chin, I fain would know How go the fortunes of our Privy Purse ? Cliin. — Not over well, your Majesty : in fact We either must raise money, or retrench. His Majesty. — Retrench, you say ? Expenses have been high ; Levees entail much lavlshness in dress. And three State Balls, unsparing of champagne Have swallowed up our small economies ; Therein we had no choice, — a first-rate Power, On Europe's lines, must posture and grimace : But they are done with for the present year. Chin. — Ay, but that four-in-hand, the new-laid Park, The water-works, electric lights, and launch. The extra His Majesty. — There ! you needn't mind the rest For you, good Chancellor, to find the funds Is but the path of duty, evident. 6o What's more, referring to my note-book here, I see it written : " Item, send to Worth For dresses for the Empress and her suite, Decolletes and befitting their high rank ; Item, to pension from th' Imperial schools All teachers of the Anglo-Saxon tongue Hailing from Scotland or America, For they corrupt with barbarous dialects. Chin. — My liege, it shall be done — but how to raise His Majesty. — Objections, to the wind ? John Stuart Mill Has systems for them both which you and I Can work no better than he did himself, And yet methinks we are not without ways To fill our purse forthwith. ]]'n. — I kinder guess His Majesty. — Harvard again ! Good Wu, we beg of you Draw up that pension edict speedily. We want a ' well of English undefiled,' And not a crop of victims like yourself But now to business ; ever-thoughtful Chin, Take out your tablets. Sir, and you shall see The Dragon Throne has dabbled in finance. First, be it noted that, with e\ ery mail. Our bulk of correspondence grows apace ; 6i Each week at least a hundred worthy souls Ask for the favour of my autograph, To cheer the gloom of English villages ; And many be that write for postage stamps. Then scarce a day goes by but I receive Letters from missionaries of every sort, Each humbly begging Providence to guide My heart aright (that is, to follow theirs — As if one Iieart could go a hundred ways !) And asking me to grant monopoly (For China's good) to their peculiar brand. All these, good Chin, I think are Heaven-sent, As ravens to the Prophet were of old. Says not the sage, " The wise may often glean Much profit from necessity of fools ?" Therefore I have decided to appoint An agency in London, which shall sell My autograph in English and Chinese ; Where also we shall do a trade in stamps — New issues to be printed quarterly. And finally, for half a million taels One province may be leased for seven years To any creed or sect's monopoly, With slight reduction on a quantity, And benefit of all the local shrines. Hereby, good Councillors, you may observe We shall be testing systems by their fruits ; And that which shall produce most honesty, 62 Most gentleness and Christian charity, Shall have another lease — and pay no more. What think ye, worthy Sirs ? Chin. — Great wisdom lies In every word, Oh Brother of the Sun ! His Majesty. — Well, make me up the usual estimates Before to-night, methinks, it should suffice : If not, I notice in the London news That bric-a-brac is coming in again ; There should be possibilities in that, If we increase our stock of ' palace ware, And keep an eye on buyers from the States. Cliin. — It shall be done. His Jfajcsty. — And lastly, we must know Which of those syndicates desires the boon Of building us the railway to Canton ; Whichever pays the most can have the job. Chin. — Your Majesty shall shortly be supplied With facts and figures. His Majesty. — Good ; then get ye gone, For I am weary. Wu, just touch the bell And bid John Thomas beat me up an &gg With half a glass of port — the usual thing. Farewell, my trusty Councillors, farewell ! \_Excunt ainbo. [His Majesty resumes his pipe and takes up Picnch.] W&\\, well — all this is better than the time 63 When here was strict formality's routine. We've made a few improvements since the days \\'hen first I struggled with c-a-t, cat. Tobacco, sanitation, and champagne, Clean streets, good food and comfortable chairs Were all unknown before I learned to read ; And they have taught me more of what we lack Than Darwin, Ruskin or Theosophy. Heigho ! there's that foundation stone to lay, And then the camel-show at half-past two. Which must be duly opened : let us take Our share of honest leisure while we may. [Left enjoying himself.] 64 X M A S. — ►»« — 'Tis Xmas night, and as the bottles pass I see our worthy host Uprise with " Friends, let each one fill his glass "To drink a Xmas toast." And now with " beaded bubbles " on the brink The sparkling wine doth foam, While silence reigns unbroken as we drink The toast "Old Folks at Home." And at the words on many a face I see A kind of shadow fall — Shadows which gently tell the tale that we Are exiles after all. Old Folks at Home ! They drink our health as we Drink theirs to-day, no doubt ; Tho' far apart, yet still from o'er the sea Their hearts to ours oo out. &^ Yes ! tho' our lot has placed us in the race Of life, for years apart. Yet theirs, I take it, still the warmest place And first, in every heart. 65 " THE GLORIOUS TWELFTH." Sc'fnf : a Formosan fP7-t: Tiiiu- : Early viornins;, 12/h Angus/. Six a.m. and too hot for bed, Sling me a hammock and fetch a drink, Let me loll here a while and think Before pursuinc;' my daily bread. Let me think, ere the sore distressed Brain stops short at the day's routine, Of another and very different scene \\'hich the sun will see as he journeys \\est. Light and shade of a morning haze Changing swift as the mist clouds break, Cheery voices and hearts that take Back one's thoughts to the olden days. Gun on shoulder, and Wills's best Making sweeter the glorious air ; Jim, old fellow, I see you there, Hear your laughter above the rest. There's long John with those wondrous tight Gaiters, and Dick with the setter slut : I wonder which of you takes my butt Over the gulley, far on the right? 66 Purple and white of a Yorkshire moor, Six brown butts to the hill inclined ; Cry of the beaters comes down on the wind, Mark, mark over !" Ye Gods, once more If To tread the heather and hear that cry Crouched by old Rover with bated breath, As the first birds " into the valley of death " Turn and show clearly against the sky. To wipe the eye of the man beneath ; To see the ancient that leads the pack Meet the Fates gallantly in his track Perishing^ rame, en his native heath. Cloud and shine of an English day. Lunch at the "Marquis of Granby's Arms" Laughter made mellow by all the charms Of a glass of beer and a seasoned clay. Beer ! the word is a solemn knell That brings me back to myself, — alas. Just for a touch of the banished Bass And a whiff of the pipe that is sadly still. Jlfaskce! here's luck on the moor to-daj-, May the bag be a record and when you take The homeward road, friends, for old time's sake Think, of an exile in far Cathay. 6; A BALLADE OF JUNE. 95" IN THE SHADE. All fierce the God of Day doth shine, And grateful comes the punkah breeze ; I am alone — the hour is mine To vv'aste in dreaming -as I please. 68 Nought but the drowsy hum of bees Comes on the heated breath of noon ; My thoughts are far o'er western seas ;— I want a day of EngHsh June ! To be at rest and soft redine Beneath the shade of spreading trees, Where thrush and nightingale combine Their rich )(jt gentle rhapsodies ; To hear the distant melodies Of labour-softening rustic tune ; Alas ! Cathay has none of these ; — I want a day of English June ! To hear melodious lowing kine Come winding homeward o'er the leas ; To watch the sunset's soft decline In gently paling harmonies ; To see the shadowy mysteries O'er hill and dale of crescent moon ; Alas ! Cathay has none of these ; — I want a day of English June ! Envoi. Oh Lotus eater, if life please Thee where 'tis " always afternoon," Keep thou thy sad, pale reveries Give me a day of English June. ARCADES AAIBO. I. IN CHINA. Now is the sunlight fading in the west, Swift o'er the lone Concession shadows steal ; The lamps are lit, and at my Boy's behest Sadly I get me to my evening meal. There — while the punkah flickers overhead, And nought disturbs the silence of the room, Save buzz of insects and Ah-Sin's soft tread — Another hardened chicken meets his doom. 70 'Tis Sunday night — to-morrow morning brings Another week of Sleepy Hollow life Where recreation centres in the things That Mrs. Bunder says of Jones' wife ; Another week, — alas, I see no ray Of hope at hand, no prospect of reprieve. The Consul's wife on Tluirsday has " her day," On Saturday " the Customs " will receive ! Oh, for the wings of Ariel to soar Far from Cathay, uf only tor a while, For a short breathing space to see no more Of foreign factions or of native guile ; To leave loquacious sinologues behind. To hear no more Confucian theories, To catch a breath of frag-rance in the wind From shores that know not garlic, cash, or squeeze. Give me a day on England's cliffdined shore — Cornwall or Devon — and there let me lie, Drinking the music of the surges' roar, And idly watch the sea birds as they fly. 'Jliere let me greet some weather-beaten tar, Drying his well-worn tackle in the sun, And glean ((uaint memories of lands afar W'idi stirring tales of bygone deeds well done. 71 Give me the scent of clover and the hum Of distant hay fields, where the patient team Stands 'neath the growing load, while children come With shout and song — or by the quiet stream, W^here as a boy I loitered, let me pry In half forgotten, though unchanged, nooks Where trout on summer days were wont to lie. And I to fish, and pore o'er well-loved books. Give me the haunts of men, the busy street, The eager march to'ards progress of the free ; Where life is not alone to sleep and eat, And all that has been, type of what must be — But no, a truce to dreams ! The watchman's din Comes in its listless, old spasmodic way. Useless to fight with Fate. I'll tumble in And bear to-morrow's ills as best I may. II. IN ENGLAND. I've still a year of leave to spend — I wish I knew the reason why It ever struck me to apply For two — I know a gushing friend Told me the griefs we exiles bore Were all repaid on England's shore. Perhaps my liver isn't what It used to be in youthful days ; Perhaps the tether of half pay's A deal too short — it matters not ; I've had enough of leave and play, Give me back harness and Cathay ! Ah, China ! send one sunny daj' To cheer us in this land of fogs, One day, that I may wear the togs I bought to don last }'ear in May. I swear this Avretched, ceaseless rain Is playing havoc with my brain. Mild-eyed Ah Sin ! how ver)' small Thy biggest squeezes noAv appear, When contemplating them from here Where " tips " are clamoured for by all ; Thine absence is a frequent pain ; Oh, come and slaughter Mary Jane ! Couldst thou but see m)' pains, iii)' woes, Whene'er I fix the needed stud, Couldst thou but mark me brush the mutl From buttonless, untidy clothes ; Couldst thou observe me brewing tea, Celestial, thou wouldst- pity me ! 73 Plague take the senseless galling yoke That British matrons have agreed To place upon the soothing weed — The way I'm pestered when I smoke Prompts me to take my pipe and book And pass my mornings with the cook. It irritates me too to think That I must carry coin about, And when I buy things, pay it out Upon the sordid counter's brink. Better the shroff till tai-pans bust Than such an utter lack of trust. And the last thing that tends to rile A man who thinks he really knows True comfort, is the way his clothes Have got to be the latest style. Take my top-hat, my patent boots. And let me wear my flannel suits ! No, give me back the shining East, The cool of my verandah shade. The litde comforts that have made Me such an idle, fussy beast. England, keep on ; no doubt thy way Is right, — but give me back Cathay. 74 METAMORPHOSIS. Muddy streets, a leaden sky, Seedy hat and sorry gamp, With a mile and more to tramp To the train for Peckham R)e — Homewards in the gathering dark Goes a weary City clerk. Office hours, eight to five, On a hundred pounds a year ; W^ork that scarcely tends to cheer, Even if it keeps alive — One of many Fortune's fools Perched upon high office stools. Nought but work, and cares ahead Holidays are far between ; And the prospects to be seen Scarcely gild the gingerbread — Vistas still of seedy hats, Poverty, and squalling brats. 75 Of the " lower middle " class, " Quite respectable " is he ; Yet but little gaiety Sees he, as the seasons pass ; And what share he does enjoy Savours much of he -ouw.. Little to excite or cheer After labour's weary round ; His society is found At the " Postboys," over beer : And a well-beloved clay Soothes him at the close of day Eight o'clock, to Mincing Lane, There at mighty ledgers drudge. Or perhaps with musters trudge Up and down in fog and rain. Till 'tis over — then at dark Homeward plods the weary clerk. Far Cathay — a sky of blue. And upon a lofty trap Gaily seated, is the chap That in Mincing Lane we knew ; But a very different type. To our hero with the pipe. 76 Now he basks in Fortune's smik'. Spick and span are all his clothes, And his tout ensemble shows Laudable attempts at style ; Clubwards every day at dark Gaily drives this lucky clerk. For his pay is rather high, Though he's Junior in the hong ; And he quite forgets the long Dreary da)'s at Peckham Rye ; Pleasantly his ways are cast And he's getting blase — fast. You may hear him sagely talk Of the qualities of wine ; And he owns a very fine Palate for detecting "cork;" Now he knows the very best Thing in smokes; the "clay's" at rest. You may hear him voting slow Parties such as China boasts ; Patronising lucky hosts Where he condescends to go ; And he's getting to expect People to be " more select." :i: * * 77 Now the Moral of my lay I would leave for those to guess Who are always more or less Discontented with Cathay. And I'd ask them to compare What things are, with what they were. 7,r, T 79 " LIGHTS OF ASIA." — ►•< — [The fact is undisputed that there are missionaries, good earnest men, who are teaching manj' things quite extraneous to Christianity — and it is to this fact, as also to our sectarian differences, that we must attribute our apparent faiUu-e to convert the Chinese. — Hongkotig Daily />vij.] There sat three Gods in the fragrant mist Of the shrine men know as the "Mountain's Bride;" The Lord of the Lilies was in their midst And Kuanyin Pusa on either side. Thus then one memorable afternoon Not long ago, in the month of June, They sat these Gods of an ancient land In their incense cloud, while a shaven band Of priests sang " Om mani padme om !" But the peerless ones weie exceeding glum. And the chant they had heard for a thousand years Seemed rather monotonous in their ears ; — ■ Even the Gods like a change of food — It failed to soothe them or do them good For Buddha was nervous, and in a mood To take no joy in his meed of joss. And the Goddess of Mercy was more than cross — Now how it happened that things were so Out of their courses, here let me show. 8o The Mountain's Bride is a hill-side shrine, Snugly nestled amongst the pine, With many a shady cool retreat That has no part in the summer's heat, And marble terraces cool and white. Now, at the time about which I write, Near it has opened a Treaty port, And the bonzes, being a friendly sort, Made it a popular health resort, And thus it happened that latterly This temple of Buddha (which used to be A place where occasional underfed Pilgrims begged for their rice and bed) Had come to be, in the month of heat, Lively with echoes of many feet, And tired foreigners from the plain Were well entreated to come again To their content, and the temple's gain. At first, Amida had doubts and fears As his peaceful home of a thousand years Became the haunt of a noisy crew Who neither Pusa nor Lohan knew ; Eaters of flesh who drank strong wine — But when he saw that they held his shrine Respectfully, and that every week His priests grew happier and more sleek. Then, having a broad and tolerant mind, The Lord of the Lilies became inclined To look with favour and bonhomie On these his guests from beyond the sea, And said to himself, " Of a sooth there may Be to Nervana another Avay." So all went merrily as a bell Till that June day, of which now I tell, When, for a change of air and scene, Three worthies — Quiverful, Phineas Green, And good McCrankie from Aberdeen — Kind missionaries from far over the seas, Who came to bring light to the pagan Chinese, Now with their servants and large families Repaired to the shrine on the mountain way To spend there a well-earned holiday. Thus they and their wives came — which is :\hy There was wrath and grief in the Buddha's eye. It also explains his being glum. For never had doctrine or preaching come, Save that of the Lotos, within his gate ; Besides, Gautama had heard of late Of things he never had known before. How, following close in the train of war Came men of Europe, to scatter the seeds In China's soil of a score of creeds. His knowledge of which was at present dim ; Except in one point — that they treated him With the very scantiest courtesy. 82 All consigning him instantl}' To a place \\heie obsolete Gods must die. Now, though the Buddha had a liberal mind He was not inclined to be thus consigned To Limbo, with all of the Fo Yeh kind ; The more especially since he knew That he and his mates were a doubtful crcAv, Lazy and mouldy divinities, not Given to earning the praise they got — And therefore, that midsummer's afternoon, Though fifty priests to a dreamy tune Sang " Om mani padme " with drum and bell, Though the incense wafted a goodly smell, And a pleasant breeze in the firtops sighed. There was erief and wrath at the " Mountain's Bride." A month and a fortnight have sped away Since our worthy preachers, at close of daj', Set out for their well-earned holida)" — Six summer weeks, and but two remain Ere they turn to the city and toil again. Not that I mean to imply that they Have spent these weeks in a frivolous wa)-. (Perish the thought !) for is not Green Writing the " Plaint of a Mandarin ;" And Ouiverfull works at a labour of love, 83 Making some facts and more theories prove That ihe tribes of Israel, long mislaid, Have at last been found (more or less decayed) In the sons of Han — while McCrankie's day Is always spent in a useful way : For b"ing aware that the native mind Has quite declined to provide or find Books for the young of a healthy kind, He toils to add to the native's joys With " Sandford and Merton," for litde boys, And later, a work that is sure to please, " Alice in Wonderland " — in Chinese: Thus on relaxadon although they're bent The days of our friends are not vainly spent. Now at eventide, when the setting sun Points to the fact that die day is done ; Wlien the last loud beat of the sacred drum Sounds through the court, and the bonzes come, Two by two, from their evening prayer In the curious vestments that bonzes wear. Then, in Gautama's own sacred Hall (As their party is large and the guest rooms small) Ouiverfull, Green and McCrankie meet, With their wives and children, at Buddha's feet To rest from their labours awhile, and eat. 84 And, with the close of the evening meal, At the kindly hour when people feel That blessedness which digestion brings, They sit, discussing all manner of things ; Some of them sober and other gay, But usually matters concerning the way Best in the end for converting Cathay. And though the good preachers are all agreed lliat China lacks but the Christian's creed To cure her of all that is sad and bad. Each one would instil his own method and fad ; xAnd firmly 'believes it the best to be had. And often they argue, one quoting a text Which is promptly squashed by a verse from the next. On points that we often allude to as 'vexed,' While Buddha, indignant, and harassed by fears Sits there and listens with all his ears. Now Yincit Veritas ! after a while The priests have noticed (I speak no guile) That the Lord of the Lilies begins to smile — A smile which tells of content within And promises soon to become a grin. Good Phineas Green, I had best explain Is a Methodist, hailing from " way down Maine," Of whom is on record that he began Work as a bold Unitarian. 85 Which might have lasted him all his life If he had not married a little wife, New England and Methodist to the knife. And she, on her wa}' to the East, began Good works by converting her own good man, Thereby confounding his converts sore But adding one to the Methodist score (Which is always glad of a convert more). And now the penitent Green defers To the mind of the weaker \'essel, (hers Being the masculine sort of mind That leaves hesitation and doubt behind) And her stern Method is to proceed To plucking tares, before sowing seed. Now tares are plentiful ; therefore she And Green are well skilled in idolatry. " Ancestor-worship " they hate and spurn (Oh snobs of England, observe and learn!) While a vegetable diet they hold the worst (By a curious logic) of things accursed. And good Phineas is wont to tell Of saving souls from the pangs of hell With an ambushed it^