The Jingo and the Minstrel

An Argument for the Maintenance of Peace and Goodwill with the j.a.panese People

Glossary for the uninstructed and the hasty: Jimmu Tenno, ancestor of all the j.a.panese Emperors; Nikko, j.a.pan's loveliest shrine; Iyeyasu, her greatest statesman; Bushido, her code of knighthood; The Forty-seven Ronins, her cla.s.sic heroes; Nogi, her latest hero; Fuji, her most beautiful mountain.

# The minstrel speaks. # "Now do you know of Avalon That sailors call j.a.pan?

She holds as rare a chivalry As ever bled for man.

King Arthur sleeps at Nikko hill Where Iyeyasu lies, And there the broad Pendragon flag In deathless splendor flies."

# The jingo answers. # _"Nay, minstrel, but the great ships come From out the sunset sea.

We cannot greet the souls they bring With welcome high and free.

How can the Nippon nondescripts That weird and dreadful band Be aught but what we find them here:-- The blasters of the land?"_

# The minstrel replies. # "First race, first men from anywhere To face you, eye to eye.

For _that_ do you curse Avalon And raise a hue and cry?

These toilers cannot kiss your hand, Or fawn with hearts bowed down.

Be glad for them, and Avalon, And Arthur's ghostly crown.

"No doubt your guests, with sage debate In grave things gentlemen Will let your trade and farms alone And turn them back again.

But why should brawling braggarts rise With hasty words of shame To drive them back like dogs and swine Who in due honor came?"

# The jingo answers. # _"We cannot give them honor, sir.

We give them scorn for scorn.

And Rumor steals around the world All white-skinned men to warn Against this sleek silk-merchant here And viler coolie-man And wrath within the courts of war Brews on against j.a.pan!"_

# The minstrel replies. # "Must Avalon, with hope forlorn, Her back against the wall, Have lived her brilliant life in vain While ruder tribes take all?

Must Arthur stand with Asian Celts, A ghost with spear and crown, Behind the great Pendragon flag And be again cut down?

"Tho Europe's self shall move against High Jimmu Tenno's throne The Forty-seven Ronin Men Will not be found alone.

For Percival and Bedivere And Nogi side by side Will stand,--with mourning Merlin there, Tho all go down in pride.

"But has the world the envious dream-- Ah, such things cannot be,-- To tear their fairy-land like silk And toss it in the sea?

Must venom rob the future day The ultimate world-man Of rare Bushido, code of codes, The fair heart of j.a.pan?

"Go, be the guest of Avalon.

Believe me, it lies there Behind the mighty gray sea-wall Where heathen bend in prayer: Where peasants lift adoring eyes To Fuji's crown of snow.

King Arthur's knights will be your hosts, So cleanse your heart, and go.

"And you will find but gardens sweet Prepared beyond the seas, And you will find but gentlefolk Beneath the cherry-trees.

So walk you worthy of your Christ Tho church bells do not sound, And weave the bands of brotherhood On Jimmu Tenno's ground."

I Heard Immanuel Singing

(The poem shows the Master, with his work done, singing to free his heart in Heaven.)

This poem is intended to be half said, half sung, very softly, to the well-known tune:--

"Last night I lay a-sleeping, There came a dream so fair, I stood in Old Jerusalem Beside the temple there,--" etc.

Yet this tune is not to be fitted on, arbitrarily. It is here given to suggest the manner of handling rather than determine it.

# To be sung. # I heard Immanuel singing Within his own good lands, I saw him bend above his harp.

I watched his wandering hands Lost amid the harp-strings; Sweet, sweet I heard him play.

His wounds were altogether healed.

Old things had pa.s.sed away.

All things were new, but music.

The blood of David ran Within the Son of David, Our G.o.d, the Son of Man.

He was ruddy like a shepherd.

His bold young face, how fair.

Apollo of the silver bow Had not such flowing hair.

# To be read very softly, but in spirited response. # I saw Immanuel singing On a tree-girdled hill.

The glad remembering branches Dimly echoed still The grand new song proclaiming The Lamb that had been slain.

New-built, the Holy City Gleamed in the murmuring plain.

The crowning hours were over.

The pageants all were past.

Within the many mansions The hosts, grown still at last, In homes of holy mystery Slept long by crooning springs Or waked to peaceful glory, A universe of Kings.

# To be sung. # He left his people happy.

He wandered free to sigh Alone in lowly friendship With the green gra.s.s and the sky.

He murmured ancient music His red heart burned to sing Because his perfect conquest Had grown a weary thing.

No chant of gilded triumph-- His lonely song was made Of Art's deliberate freedom; Of minor chords arrayed In soft and shadowy colors That once were radiant flowers:-- The Rose of Sharon, bleeding In Olive-shadowed bowers:--

And all the other roses In the songs of East and West Of love and war and worshipping, And every shield and crest Of thistle or of lotus Or sacred lily wrought In creeds and psalms and palaces And temples of white thought:--

# To be read very softly, yet in spirited response. # All these he sang, half-smiling And weeping as he smiled, Laughing, talking to his harp As to a new-born child:-- As though the arts forgotten But bloomed to prophecy These careless, fearless harp-strings, New-crying in the sky.

# To be sung. # "When this his hour of sorrow For flowers and Arts of men Has pa.s.sed in ghostly music,"

I asked my wild heart then-- What will he sing to-morrow, What wonder, all his own Alone, set free, rejoicing, With a green hill for his throne?

What will he sing to-morrow What wonder all his own Alone, set free, rejoicing, With a green hill for his throne?

Second Section ~~ Incense