The American Rebellion

By Rudyard Kipling

1776
Before

������ Twas not while England's sword unsheathed

��������� Put half a world to flight,

������ Nor while their new-built cities breathed

��������� Secure behind her might;

������ Not while she poured from Pole to Line

��������� Treasure and ships and men--

������ These worshippers at Freedoms shrine

��������� They did not quit her then!

�� Not till their foes were driven forth

�� ���By England o'er the main--

�� Not till the Frenchman from the North

�� ���Had gone with shattered Spain;

�� Not till the clean-swept oceans showed

����� No hostile flag unrolled,

�� Did they remember that they owed

�� ���To Freedom--and were bold!

After

The snow lies thick on Valley Forge,

� The ice on the Delaware,��

But the poor dead soldiers of King George

� They neither know nor care.

Not though the earliest primrose break

� On the sunny side of the lane,

And scuffling rookeries awake

� Their England's spring again.

They will not stir when the drifts are gone,

� Or the ice melts out of the bay:

And the men that served with Washington

� Lie all as still as they.

They will not stir though the mayflower blows

� In the moist dark woods of pine,

And every rock-strewn pasture shows

� Mullein and columbine.

Each for his land, in a fair fight,

� Encountered strove, and died,

And the kindly earth that knows no spite

��Covers them side by side.

She is too busy to think of war;

� She has all the world to make gay;

And, behold, the yearly flowers are

� Where they were in our fathers' day!

Golden-rod by the pasture-wall

��When the columbine is dead,

And sumach leaves that turn, in fall,

� Bright as the blood they shed.

To the Heavens above us

O look and behold

The Planets that love us

All harnessed in gold!

What chariots, what horses

Against us shall bide

While the Stars in their courses

Do fight on our side?

All thought, all desires,

That are under the sun,

Are one with their fires,

As we also are one:

All matter, all spirit,

All fashion, all frame,

Receive and inherit

Their strength from the same.

Oh, man that deniest

All power save thine own,

Their power in the highest

Is mightily shown.

Not less in the lowest

That power is made clear.

(Oh, man, if thou knowest,

What treasure is here!)

Earth quakes in her throes

And we wonder for why!

But the blind planet knows

When her ruler is nigh;

And, attuned since Creation

To perfect accord,

She thrills in her station

And yearns to her Lord.

The waters have risen,

The springs are unbound--

The floods break their prison,

And ravin around.

No rampart withstands 'em,

Their fury will last,

Till the Sign that commands 'em

Sinks low or swings past.

Through abysses unproven

O'er gulfs beyond thought,

Our portion is woven,

Our burden is brought.

Yet They that prepare it,

Whose Nature we share,

Make us who must bear it

Well able to bear.

Though terrors o'ertake us

We'll not be afraid.

No Power can unmake us

Save that which has made:

Nor yet beyond reason

Or hope shall we fall--

All things have their season,

And Mercy crowns all!

Then, doubt not, ye fearful--

The Eternal is King--

Up, heart, and be cheerful,

And lustily sing:--

What chariots, what horses

Against us shall bide

While the Stars in their courses

Do fight on our side?

You may talk o' gin and beer

When you're quartered safe out 'ere,

An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it;

But when it comes to slaughter

You will do your work on water,

An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it.

Now in Injia's sunny clime,

Where I used to spend my time

A-servin' of 'Er Majesty the Queen,

Of all them blackfaced crew

The finest man I knew

Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din.

�����

� He was "Din! Din! Din!

� You limpin' lump o' brick-dust, Gunga Din!

� Hi! Slippy hitherao!

� Water, get it! Panee lao! [Bring water swiftly.]

� You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din."

The uniform 'e wore

Was nothin' much before,

An' rather less than 'arf o' that be'ind,

For a piece o' twisty rag

An' a goatskin water-bag

Was all the field-equipment 'e could find.

When the sweatin' troop-train lay

In a sidin' through the day,

Where the 'eat would make your bloomin' eyebrows crawl,

We shouted "Harry By!" [Mr. Atkins's equivalent for "O brother."]

Till our throats were bricky-dry,

Then we wopped 'im 'cause 'e couldn't serve us all.

�

��It was "Din! Din! Din!

� You 'eathen, where the mischief 'ave you been?

� You put some juldee in it [Be quick.]

� Or I'll marrow you this minute [Hit you.]

� If you don't fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!"

'E would dot an' carry one

Till the longest day was done;

An' 'e didn't seem to know the use o' fear.

If we charged or broke or cut,

You could bet your bloomin' nut,

'E'd be waitin' fifty paces right flank rear.

With 'is mussick on 'is back, [Water-skin.]

'E would skip with our attack,

An' watch us till the bugles made "Retire",

An' for all 'is dirty 'ide

'E was white, clear white, inside

When 'e went to tend the wounded under fire!

� It was "Din! Din! Din!"

� With the bullets kickin' dust-spots on the green.

� When the cartridges ran out,

 �You could hear the front-ranks shout,

� "Hi! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din!"

I shan't forgit the night

When I dropped be'ind the fight

With a bullet where my belt-plate should 'a' been.

I was chokin' mad with thirst,

An' the man that spied me first

Was our good old grinnin', gruntin' Gunga Din.

'E lifted up my 'ead,

An' he plugged me where I bled,

An' 'e guv me 'arf-a-pint o' water-green:

It was crawlin' and it stunk,

But of all the drinks I've drunk,

I'm gratefullest to one from Gunga Din.

�

��It was "Din! Din! Din!

� 'Ere's a beggar with a bullet through 'is spleen;

� E's chawin' up the ground,

� An' 'e's kickin' all around:

� For Gawd's sake git the water, Gunga Din!"

'E carried me away

To where a dooli lay,

An' a bullet come an' drilled the beggar clean.

'E put me safe inside,

An' just before 'e died,

"I 'ope you liked your drink", sez Gunga Din.

So I'll meet 'im later on

At the place where 'e is gone --

Where it's always double drill and no canteen.

'E'll be squattin' on the coals

Givin' drink to poor damned souls,

An' I'll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din!

�

��Yes, Din! Din! Din!

� You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din!

� Though I've belted you and flayed you,

� By the livin' Gawd that made you,

� You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din!