 | The violet crown by Sir Rennell Rodd |  |
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FRANK RHODES: A MEMORY
To that fierce land of gloom and gleam
Where we at least once lived our dream,
From this remote and placid north
My longing and my love go forth
To five good friends,—and surely few
Have linked their lives with friends like you!
Some bore brave scars, well won in fight,
But not in battle's stern delight
Was it their happier fate to fall;
An evil siren lured them all;
And poison swamp and tropic sun
Stayed their strong heart-beats, one by one,
Till you, dear Frankie, you the last
Have gone the way the rest had passed,
And only I alone remain
To dream the good time back again.
Where we at least once lived our dream,
From this remote and placid north
My longing and my love go forth
To five good friends,—and surely few
Have linked their lives with friends like you!
Some bore brave scars, well won in fight,
But not in battle's stern delight
Was it their happier fate to fall;
An evil siren lured them all;
And poison swamp and tropic sun
Stayed their strong heart-beats, one by one,
Till you, dear Frankie, you the last
Have gone the way the rest had passed,
And only I alone remain
To dream the good time back again.
Young were we still, twelve years ago
When we went southward, proud to know
We were of those the sea queen sends
For witness where her mandate ends.
And still it seems but yesterday
That eve we sighted far away
The shadowy horn of Guardafui,
When sudden night closed round a sea
That drowned the old familiar stars,
And we beheld through dripping spars
The Southern Cross climb up the sky,
Raymond and Roddy, you and I.
How all was welcome, morn and noon
And starry eve and Afric moon;
As yet we had no watch to keep,
Light-hearted farers through the deep.
When we went southward, proud to know
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For witness where her mandate ends.
And still it seems but yesterday
That eve we sighted far away
The shadowy horn of Guardafui,
When sudden night closed round a sea
That drowned the old familiar stars,
And we beheld through dripping spars
The Southern Cross climb up the sky,
Raymond and Roddy, you and I.
How all was welcome, morn and noon
And starry eve and Afric moon;
As yet we had no watch to keep,
Light-hearted farers through the deep.
At last one dawn revealed our goal,
The palm-fringed shore, the fretting shoal,
The spice-groves, sloping greenly down
To the long white-walled Arab town,
The anchored dhows, the teeming beach,
Where with a hand we thronged to reach
Stood Gerald's self,—a shade of care
Across the brow once debonair,
But in his eyes the joy and power
Of him who feels his triumph's hour.
And one was by his side whose name
Were high on England's roll of fame,
Had it not been his choice to shun
The paths in which applause is won,
A friend to love, a foe to fear,
Sailor and soldier and vizir.
The palm-fringed shore, the fretting shoal,
The spice-groves, sloping greenly down
To the long white-walled Arab town,
The anchored dhows, the teeming beach,
Where with a hand we thronged to reach
Stood Gerald's self,—a shade of care
Across the brow once debonair,
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Of him who feels his triumph's hour.
And one was by his side whose name
Were high on England's roll of fame,
Had it not been his choice to shun
The paths in which applause is won,
A friend to love, a foe to fear,
Sailor and soldier and vizir.
Your dusky train had gone before
A day's march from the mainland shore,
For the sea queen's work brooked no delay,
And four must go and two must stay.
First when the moment came to part
That shadow fell to chill the heart,
The half-formed thought, which would it be
If Dame Adventure claimed her fee,—
As you four took the inland track,
And we two lost you looking back,
A day's march from the mainland shore,
For the sea queen's work brooked no delay,
And four must go and two must stay.
First when the moment came to part
That shadow fell to chill the heart,
The half-formed thought, which would it be
If Dame Adventure claimed her fee,—
As you four took the inland track,
And we two lost you looking back,
Of those who met and parted so
Good Raymond was the first to go.
A thousand miles from that sea's strand
That links the English to their land,
Where few who cared will ever pass
His hillock in the matted grass,
Beyond the great dividing Rift
He lies, the brave, the strong, the swift.
Good Raymond was the first to go.
A thousand miles from that sea's strand
That links the English to their land,
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His hillock in the matted grass,
Beyond the great dividing Rift
He lies, the brave, the strong, the swift.
A year went by and Gerald came
Returning flushed with early fame;
And as the race is to the fleet
All ways seemed smooth before his feet;
His outstretched hand was on the goal
Responsive to his ardent soul,—
But still the witch that knows no ruth
Reached back to claim his conquering youth,
And all our love and hope and pride
Were spent in vain, when Gerry died.
Returning flushed with early fame;
And as the race is to the fleet
All ways seemed smooth before his feet;
His outstretched hand was on the goal
Responsive to his ardent soul,—
But still the witch that knows no ruth
Reached back to claim his conquering youth,
And all our love and hope and pride
Were spent in vain, when Gerry died.
By ancient Nile a barren Khor
Hides yet another of the four,
Where seven feet of desert sand
Check eager Roddy's bridle-hand;
Where caravans that pay their toll
To the Sheikh who watches Ambigol,
Enquire what means the granite scored
With alien writing and a sword,
What soldier holds the rock defile
That leads them back to Father Nile.
Hides yet another of the four,
Where seven feet of desert sand
Check eager Roddy's bridle-hand;
Where caravans that pay their toll
To the Sheikh who watches Ambigol,
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With alien writing and a sword,
What soldier holds the rock defile
That leads them back to Father Nile.
And where the palms of Zanzibar
Sway languid to the tropic star,
Tired out at last and borne to rest
By those dark folk who loved him best
Lloyd Mathews lies, his wanderings done,
His thirty years of toil and sun.
True English heart, whom all too few
Of those you served so greatly knew,
Sleep, full of peace, in that far grave,—
The all you gained for all you gave.
Sway languid to the tropic star,
Tired out at last and borne to rest
By those dark folk who loved him best
Lloyd Mathews lies, his wanderings done,
His thirty years of toil and sun.
True English heart, whom all too few
Of those you served so greatly knew,
Sleep, full of peace, in that far grave,—
The all you gained for all you gave.
So you, dear Frank, were last of those
To whom a tender thought outgoes,
With dreams of days not lived in vain.
For you while life and love remain
Shall memory keep, undried by years,
A green place near the source of tears.
Well know we how, in evil days,
You bore the brunt of men's dispraise;
Well prized we then the stern control
That sealed from speech your loyal soul;
And cared to feel your silence bear
The blame it would not shift elsewhere.
O golden heart in time of stress,
Of failing hope or ill success,
Who met the scorn of fate with mirth
And loved your fellow-man on earth;
You that had seen your share of strife
And lived and cared so much for life,
Why did you heed the siren hand
That drew you back to Upas land?
To whom a tender thought outgoes,
With dreams of days not lived in vain.
For you while life and love remain
Shall memory keep, undried by years,
A green place near the source of tears.
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You bore the brunt of men's dispraise;
Well prized we then the stern control
That sealed from speech your loyal soul;
And cared to feel your silence bear
The blame it would not shift elsewhere.
O golden heart in time of stress,
Of failing hope or ill success,
Who met the scorn of fate with mirth
And loved your fellow-man on earth;
You that had seen your share of strife
And lived and cared so much for life,
Why did you heed the siren hand
That drew you back to Upas land?
What wonder if I hear the call
Of that far voice that lured them all!
I cross the sandy wastes again
The great mimosa-tufted plain,
I share the thirsty march, through clear
Clean mornings, and with eve I hear
The marsh things crying, see the fierce
Short sunsets, the large stars that pierce
The tangled tent of tropic green,
And all the wonders we have seen
In that grim world of gloom and gleam,
Where evermore, across my dream,
Pervading all, I still behold
The kind worn face, so young, so old,
The lifted chin, the deep-set eyes
At once so merry and so wise,
The never-failing helpful smile
That haunts all ways from Cape to Nile.
Of that far voice that lured them all!
I cross the sandy wastes again
The great mimosa-tufted plain,
I share the thirsty march, through clear
Clean mornings, and with eve I hear
The marsh things crying, see the fierce
Short sunsets, the large stars that pierce
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And all the wonders we have seen
In that grim world of gloom and gleam,
Where evermore, across my dream,
Pervading all, I still behold
The kind worn face, so young, so old,
The lifted chin, the deep-set eyes
At once so merry and so wise,
The never-failing helpful smile
That haunts all ways from Cape to Nile.
1905.
| The violet crown by Sir Rennell Rodd | |