Kipling

Kipling

Norman and Saxon



My son," said the Norman Baron, "I am dying, and you will be heir

To all the broad acres in England that William gave me for my share

When we conquered the Saxon at Hastings, and a nice little handful it is.

But before you go over to rule it I want you to understand this:-

"The Saxon is not like us Normans, His manners are not so polite.

But he never means anything serious till he talks about justice and right.

When he stands like an ox in the furrow with his sullen set eyes on your own,

And grumbles, "This isn't fair dealings," my son, leave the Saxon alone.

"You can horsewhip your Gascony archers, or torture your Picardy spears,

But don't try that game on the Saxon; you'll have the whole brood round your ears.

From the richest old Thane in the county to the poorest chained serf in the field,

They'll be at you and on you like hornets, and, if you are wise, you will yield.

"But first you must master their language, their dialect, proverbs and songs.

Don't trust any clerk to interpret when they come with the tale of their wrongs.

Let them know that you know what they're saying; let them feel that you know what to say.

Yes, even when you want to go hunting, hear 'em out if it takes you all day.

"They'll drink every hour of the daylight and poach every hour of the dark,

It's the sport not the rabbits they 're after (we 've plenty of game in the park).

Don't hang them or cut off their fingers. That's wasteful as well as unkind,

For a hard-bitten, South-country poacher makes the best man-at-arms you can find.

"Appear with your wife and the children at their weddings and funerals and feasts.

Be polite but not friendly to Bishops; be good to all poor parish priests.

Say 'we,' 'us' and 'ours' when you're talking instead of 'you fellows' and 'I.'

Don't ride over seeds; keep your temper; and never you tell 'em a lie!"

THE WRATH OF THE AWAKENED SAXON

It was not part of their blood,

It came to them very late,

With long arrears to make good,

When the Saxon began to hate.

They were not easily moved,

They were icy -- willing to wait

Till every count should be proved,

Ere the Saxon began to hate.

Their voices were even and low.

Their eyes were level and straight.

There was neither sign nor show

When the Saxon began to hate.

It was not preached to the crowd.

It was not taught by the state.

No man spoke it aloud

When the Saxon began to hate.

It was not suddenly bred.

It will not swiftly abate.

Through the chilled years ahead,

When Time shall count from the date

That the Saxon began to hate.

Dane-Geld

It is always a temptation to an armed and agile nation

To call upon a neighbour and to say: --

"We invaded you last night--we are quite prepared to fight,

Unless you pay us cash to go away."

And that is called asking for Dane-geld,

And the people who ask it explain

That you've only to pay 'em the Dane-geld

And then you'll get rid of the Dane!

It is always a temptation for a rich and lazy nation,

To puff and look important and to say: --

"Though we know we should defeat you, we have not the time to meet you.

We will therefore pay you cash to go away."

And that is called paying the Dane-geld;

But we've proved it again and again,

That if once you have paid him the Dane-geld

You never get rid of the Dane.

It is wrong to put temptation in the path of any nation,

For fear they should succumb and go astray;

So when you are requested to pay up or be molested,

You will find it better policy to say: --

"We never pay any-one Dane-geld,

No matter how trifling the cost;

For the end of that game is oppression and shame,

And the nation that pays it is lost!"

If

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or being hated, don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream -- and not make dreams your master;

If you can think -- and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two imposters just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with kings -- nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run --

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,

And -- which is more -- you'll be a Man, my son!