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But count who come for the broken meats before thou makest a feast.
If there should follow a thousand swords to carry my bones away,
Belike the price of a jackal's meal were more than a thief could pay.
They will feed their horse on the standing crop, their men on the garnered grain,
The thatch of the byres1 will serve their fires when all the cattle are slain.
But if thou thinkest the price be fair, and thy brethren wait to sup,
The hound is kin to the jackal-spawn,-howl, dog, and call them up!
And if thou thinkest the price be high, in steer and gear and stack,
Give me my father's mare again, and I'll fight my own way back!"

Kamal has gripped him by the hand, and set him upon his feet.
"No talk shall be of dogs," said he, "when wolf and gray wolf meet.
May I eat dirt if thou hast hurt of me in deed or breath.

What dam of lances brought thee forth to jest at the dawn with Death?"
Lightly answered the Colonel's son: "I hold by the blood of my clan;

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Take up the mare for my father's gift,-by God, she has carried a man!”

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The red mare ran to the Colonel's son, and nuzzled her nose in his breast;

"We be two strong men," said Kamal then, "but she loveth the younger best.
So she shall go with a lifter's dower, my turquoise-studded rein,
My broidered saddle and saddle-cloth, and silver stirrups twain."

The Colonel's son a pistol drew, and held it muzzle-end:

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"Ye have taken the one from a foe," said he; "will ye take the mate from a friend?"
"A gift for a gift," said Kamal straight; "a limb for the risk of a limb.
Thy father has sent his son to me,-I'll send my son to him."
With that he whistled his only son, that dropped from a mountain-crest,-
He trod the ling2 like a buck in spring, and he looked like a lance in rest.
"Now here is thy master," Kamal said, "who leads a troop of the Guides,
And thou must ride at his left side as shield to shoulder rides.
Till Death or I cut loose the tie, at camp and board and bed,
Thy life is his-thy fate it is to guard him with thy head.

And thou must eat the White Queen's meat, and all her foes are thine,
And thou must harry3 thy father's hold for the peace of the Border-line,
And thou must make a trooper tough and hack thy way to power-
Belike they will raise thee to Ressaldar when I am hanged in Peshawur."

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They have looked each other between the eyes, and there they found no fault,
They have taken the Oath of the Brother-in-Blood on leavened bread and salt;
They have taken the Oath of the Brother-in-Blood on fire and fresh-cut sod,
On the hilt and the haft of the Khyber knife, and the Wondrous Names of God.
The Colonel's son he rides the mare, and Kamal's boy the dun,

And two have come back to Fort Bukloh where there went forth but one.
And when they drew to the Quarter-Guard, full twenty swords flew clear—
There was not a man but carried his feud with the blood of the mountaineer.
"Ha' done! ha' done!" said the Colonel's son. "Put up the steel at your sides!
Last night ye had struck at a Border thief-to-night 'tis a man of the Guides!"

Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet
Till earth and sky stand presently at God's great Judgment Seat.
But there is neither east nor west, border, nor breed, nor birth,

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When two strong men stand face to face, though they come from the ends of the earth.

(1889)

I byres. Stables.

a ling. Heather.

3 harry. Attack.

4 had. Would have.

THE BALLAD OF MOLL MAGEE

WILLIAM B. YEATS

Come round me, little childer;
There, don't fling stones at me
Because I mutter as I go;
But pity Moll Magee.

My man was a poor fisher
With shore lines in the say;
My work was saltin' herrings
The whole of the long day.

And sometimes from the saltin' shed,
I scarce could drag my feet

Under the blessed moonlight,
Along the pebbly street.

I'd always been but weakly,

And my baby was just born;

A neighbor minded her by day,

I minded her till morn.

I lay upon my baby;

Ye little childer dear,

I looked on my cold baby

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When the morn grew frosty and clear.

A weary woman sleeps so hard!
My man grew red and pale,

And gave me money, and bade me go
To my own place Kinsale.

He drove me out and shut the door,
And gave his curse to me;

I went away in silence,

No neighbor could I see.

The windows and the doors were shut,
One star shone faint and green;
The little straws were turnin' round
Across the bare boreen.1

I went away in silence;

Beyond old Martin's byre2

I saw a kindly neighbor

Blowin' her mornin' fire.

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They slowly into millions grew,

And leaves shook in the wind;

And God covered the world with shade, And whispered to mankind.

Upon the time of sparrow chirp,

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But always, as I'm movin' round, Without doors or within,

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When the moths came once more,

The old priest Peter Gilligan

Stood upright on the floor.

3 keenin', Lamenting.

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Loud sang the souls of the jolly, jolly mariners,

Crying: "Under Heaven, here is neither lead nor lea!

Must we sing for evermore On the windless, glassy floor? Take back your golden fiddles and we'll beat to open sea!"

Then stooped the Lord, and He called the good sea up to Him,

And 'stablished his borders unto all eternity,

That such as have no pleasure For to praise the Lord by measure, They may enter into galleons and serve Him on the sea.

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Into the narrowing channel, between the shore

And the sunk torpedoes lying in treacherous rank;

She turned but a yard too short; a muffled

roar,

A mountainous wave, and she rolled, righted, and sank.

Over the manhole, up in the iron-clad

tower,

Pilot and Captain met as they turned to fly:

The hundredth part of a moment seemed an hour,

For one could pass to be saved, and one must die.

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They stood like men in a dream: Craven spoke,

Spoke as he lived and fought, with a Captain's pride,

"After you, Pilot." The pilot woke, Down the ladder he went, and Craven died.

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