Ulysses, much-experienced man, Whose eyes have known this globe of ours, Her tribes of men, and trees, and flowers, From Corrientes to j.a.pan,

II

To you that bask below the Line, I soaking here in winter wet-- The century's three strong eights[31] have met To drag me down to seventy-nine

III

In summer if I reach my day-- To you, yet young, who breathe the balm Of summer-winters by the palm And orange grove of Paraguay,

IV

I tolerant of the colder time, Who love the winter woods, to trace On paler heavens the branching grace Of leafless elm, or naked lime,

V

And see my cedar green, and there My giant ilex keeping leaf When frost is keen and days are brief-- Or marvel how in English air

VI

My yucca, which no winter quells, Altho' the months have scarce begun, Has push'd toward our faintest sun A spike of half-accomplish'd bells--

VII

Or watch the waving pine which here The warrior of Caprera set,[32]

A name that earth will not forget Till earth has roll'd her latest year--

VIII

I, once half-crazed for larger light On broader zones beyond the foam, But chaining fancy now at home Among the quarried downs of Wight,

IX

Not less would yield full thanks to you For your rich gift, your tale of lands I know not,[33] your Arabian sands; Your cane, your palm, tree-fern, bamboo,

X

The wealth of tropic bower and brake; Your Oriental Eden-isles,[34]

Where man, nor only Nature smiles; Your wonder of the boiling lake;[35]

XI

Phra-Chai, the Shadow of the Best,[36]

Phra-bat[37] the step; your Pontic coast; Crag-cloister;[38] Anatolian Ghost;[39]

Hong-Kong,[40] Karnac,[41] and all the rest.

XII

Thro' which I follow'd line by line Your leading hand, and came, my friend, To prize your various book, and send A gift of slenderer value, mine.

TO THE MARQUIS OF DUFFERIN AND AVA

I

At times our Britain cannot rest, At times her steps are swift and rash; She moving, at her girdle clash The golden keys of East and West.

II

Not swift or rash, when late she lent The sceptres of her West, her East, To one, that ruling has increased Her greatness and her self-content.

III

Your rule has made the people love Their ruler. Your viceregal days Have added fulness to the phrase Of "Gauntlet in the velvet glove."

IV

But since your name will grow with Time, Not all, as honouring your fair fame Of Statesman, have I made the name A golden portal to my rhyme:

V

But more, that you and yours may know From me and mine, how dear a debt We owed you, and are owing yet To you and yours, and still would owe.

VI

For he[42]--your India was his Fate, And drew him over sea to you-- He fain had ranged her thro' and thro', To serve her myriads and the State,--

VII

A soul that, watch'd from earliest youth, And on thro' many a brightening year, Had never swerved for craft or fear, By one side-path, from simple truth;

VIII