ern joy which youthful warriors feel
In wearing garments worthy of their zeal;

Then came the seneschal upon the scenes,
And knocked his infant pride to smithereens.

For out, alack! the Fathers of the mess
Strictly prohibited that form of dress,

Being by sad experience led to find
Disaster in the buttonry behind,

Which tore and scratched the leather-cushioned chairs,
And cost a perfect fortune in repairs!

It was a crushing blow. That Subaltern
Discovered that he had a lot to learn;

Removed his Coat, and laid it, weeping, in
Its long sarcophagus of beaten tin:

Buried it deep, and drew it thence no more;
Finished his Course, and sought an alien shore.

* * * * *

So runs the tale. I had it from the youth
Himself, and I suppose he told the truth.

(The words alone are mine; I need but hint
That his were too emotional for print.)

And as in India, though the chairs are hard,
His Coat--delicious irony--is barred;

Being designed for cooler zones, and not
For one inadequately known as 'hot';

And, furthermore, as bold Sir Fashion brings
Changes, yea, even to the soldier's things:

He questions if the Coat were worth the price,
Seeing that he will hardly wear it twice.

THE IRON HAND

'The Government of India _has been pleased_ to sanction the
infliction of a fine of ..., etc.'

To him that reads with careless eyes
My present theme affords
But little scope for enterprise
In buttering one's lords:
Fines, he would urge, have always bulked
Largely to Those that rule,
For, plainly, every man They mulct
Contributes to the pool.

But when in ages dead and gone
Our fathers fought with Sin,
However hard they laid it on,
They didn't rub it in;
While These not only bring to bear
Their dark prerogatives,
But diabolically air
The pleasure that it gives!

Here is the Iron Hand that builds
Our realms beyond the sea;
No _suaviter in modo_ gilds
Their _fortiter in re_;
Here is no washy velvet glove
To pad the Fist of Fear--
None of your guiding charms of Love--
None of your hogwash here!

No. From Their thrones amid the stars
They glower athwart the land
Implacable, with 'eye like Mars