Wherefore the more ye be holpen and stayed, Stayed by a friend in the hour of toil, Sing the heretical song I have made-- His be the labour and yours be the spoil, Win by his aid and the aid disown-- He travels the fastest who travels alone! A ST. HELENA LULLABY 'How far is St. Helena from a little child at play?' What makes you want to wander there with all the world between? Oh, Mother, call your son again or else he'll run away. (_No one thinks of winter when the grass is green!_) 'How far is St. Helena from a fight in Paris street?' I haven't time to answer now--the men are falling fast. The guns begin to thunder, and the drums begin to beat. (_If you take the first step you will take the last!_) 'How far is St. Helena from the field of Austerlitz?' You couldn't hear me if I told--so loud the cannons roar. But not so far for people who are living by their wits. (_'Gay go up' means 'Gay go down' the wide world o'er!_) 'How far is St. Helena from an Emperor of France?' I cannot see--I cannot tell--the crowns they dazzle so. The Kings sit down to dinner, and the Queens stand up to dance. (_After open weather you may look for snow!_) 'How far is St. Helena from the Capes of Trafalgar?' A longish way--a longish way--with ten year more to run. It's South across the water underneath a setting star. (_What you cannot finish you must leave undone!_) 'How far is St. Helena from the Beresina ice?' An ill way--a chill way--the ice begins to crack. But not so far for gentlemen who never took advice. (_When you can't go forward you must e'en come back!_) 'How far is St. Helena from the field of Waterloo?' A near way--a clear way--the ship will take you soon. A pleasant place for gentlemen with little left to do, (_Morning never tries you till the afternoon!_) 'How far from St. Helena to the Gate of Heaven's Grace?' That no one knows--that no one knows--and no one ever will. But fold your hands across your heart and cover up your face, And after all your trapesings, child, lie still! CHIL'S SONG These were my companions going forth by night-- _(For Chil! Look you, for Chil!)_ Now come I to whistle them the ending of the fight. _(Chil! Vanguards of Chil!)_ Word they gave me overhead of quarry newly slain, Word I gave them underfoot of buck upon the plain. Here's an end of every trail--they shall not speak again! They that called the hunting-cry--they that followed fast-- _(For Chil! Look you, for Chil!)_ They that bade the sambhur wheel, or pinned him as he passed-- _(Chil! Vanguards of Chil!)_ They that lagged behind the scent--they that ran before, They that shunned the level horn--they that overbore, Here's an end of every trail--they shall not follow more.