Bad Luck, she is never a lady, But the commonest wench on the street, Shuffling, shabby and shady, Shameless to pass or meet. Walk with her once--it's a weakness! Talk to her twice--it's a crime! Thrust her away when she gives you 'good day,' And the besom won't board you next time. Largesse! Largesse, Fortune! What is Your Ladyship's mood? If I've no care for Fortune, My Fortune is bound to be good! Good Luck, she is never a lady, But the cursedest quean alive! Tricksey, wincing and jady, Kittle to lead or drive. Greet her--she's hailing a stranger! Meet her--she's busking to leave. Let her alone for a shrew to the bone, And the hussy comes plucking your sleeve! Largesse! Largesse, Fortune! I'll neither follow nor flee. If I don't run after Fortune, Fortune must run after me! 'BY THE HOOF OF THE WILD GOAT' By the Hoof of the Wild Goat uptossed From the cliff where she lay in the Sun Fell the Stone To the Tarn where the daylight is lost, So she fell from the light of the Sun And alone! Now the fall was ordained from the first With the Goat and the Cliff and the Tarn, But the Stone Knows only her life is accursed As she sinks from the light of the Sun And alone! Oh Thou Who has builded the World, Oh Thou Who has lighted the Sun, Oh Thou Who has darkened the Tarn, Judge Thou The sin of the Stone that was hurled By the goat from the light of the Sun, As she sinks in the mire of the Tarn, Even now--even now--even now! SONG OF THE RED WAR-BOAT (A.D. 683) Shove off from the wharf-edge! Steady! Watch for a smooth! Give way! If she feels the lop already She'll stand on her head in the bay. It's ebb--it's dusk--it's blowing. The shoals are a mile of white. But (snatch her along!) we're going To find our master to-night. _For we hold that in all disaster Of shipwreck, storm, or sword, A Man must stand by his Master When once he has pledged his word._ Raging seas have we rowed in, But we seldom saw them thus; Our master is angry with Odin-- Odin is angry with us! Heavy odds have we taken, But never before such odds. The Gods know they are forsaken, We must risk the wrath of the Gods! Over the crest she flies from, Into its hollow she drops, Cringes and clears her eyes from The wind-torn breaker-tops, Ere out on the shrieking shoulder Of a hill-high surge she drives. Meet her! Meet her and hold her! Pull for your scoundrel lives! The thunders bellow and clamour The harm that they mean to do! There goes Thor's own Hammer Cracking the dark in two! Close! But the blow has missed her, Here comes the wind of the blow! Row or the squall'll twist her Broadside on to it!--_Row!_ Heark 'ee, Thor of the Thunder! We are not here for a jest-- For wager, warfare, or plunder, Or to put your power to test. This work is none of our wishing-- We would house at home if we might-- But our master is wrecked out fishing. We go to find him to-night.