Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, KAGA-SOTO: THE FATAL ERROR, by ANONYMOUS


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

KAGA-SOTO: THE FATAL ERROR, by                    
First Line: "with a sorrowful face, and a mystified frown"
Last Line: And take care that you don't lose your heart or your head
Subject(s): Loyalty;murder;suicide


DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

THE COUNCILLOR.
KWANSUKÉ, a Servant.

With a sorrowful face, and a mystified frown,
The Councillor wandereth up and adown;
There's a glance in his eye
That is plainly shimpai,
And the badge on his mantle is pulled all awry;
His chin is unshaven; on top of his pate
His queue draggles down in a sad, dirty state;
In the broad girdle laced
Round his corpulent waist
Are his swords in a fashion most slovenly placed,
With the short one inside, which, a child could descry,
Is a mode quite unworthy a true samurai;
His mien is dejected; o'ercome by his woe,
He looks more like a guy than a gallant karô!
And, in view of these symptoms, to think you're inclin'd
That a something doth trouble the Councillor's mind.
Yes, you're right, gentle reader; he cannot refuse
To admit that he's down with a fit of the blues;
And just here here, I would pray
You'll permit me to say
That the question of color's quite strange in tis way;
Thus, a man owns he's blue, but I've never yet seen
And person so bold as confess himself green!—
"To return to our muttons" from this slight digression,
I'll tell you the cause of our worthy's depression:
If a man e'er had "blues," 'tis the case with our friend,
And, of course, there's a lady to blame in the end!
"Oh! alas for the day,"
Doth the Councillor say,
"When our late Kashiu Sama the good passed away!
"While he lived, peace and plenty prevailed in our land,
"And the peasants all blessed his beneficent hand;
"Then officials were honest, then taxes were light,
"Then our harvests were rich, and out prospects were bright,
"And a tub of good saké was broached ev'ry night!
"And we fancied—poor fools!—'twould be always the same,
"As we bragged of our clan and our daimiô's fame:
"But, alas and alack!
"One fine day an attack
"Of sore sickness prostrated our lord on his back;
"Some they swore it was kak'ke, some vowed 'twas from drink,
"They were all of them wrong—for my own part, I think
"Any fool could have seen with but half of an eye,
"That the time had arrived for his lordship to die;
"His last hour was at hand, he perceived without telling,
"So at once set in order his household and dwelling;
"He looked out for his heir a most charming young wife,
"And then, greatly lamented, departed this life;
"Full of years and of honors, he died without pain,
"And was buried—and then, there commenced a new reign;
"For his son (would that sad date could pass by unheeded!)
"To his lands, titles, cash-box, and castle succeeded.

"Some few months passed away,
"And the Lady O Tei
"O'er our young chief's affections retained her first sway;
"And so gentle, so kind, so devoted was she,
"That of all the retainers no man could foresee
"That the Lord and his Lady would e'er disagree.
"Yet, ere long—how it happened I'm sure I can't tell—
"The gay youth 'gainst her counsels began to rebel—
"Paid attentions, in fact, to a frail singing girl,
"Who ensnared his weak heart, set his brain in a whirl,
"And so stole his affections completely away
"From the wife of his bosom, poor Lady O Tei!
"Till at last the enchantress, without more ado,
"Made our lord bring her home as his wife Number Two!!
"Oh! ne'er can I forget that morn,
"The darkest day that e'er did dawn,
"That viewed our chieftain's fall!
"When, faithless to his loving spouse,
"Forgetful of his plighted vows,
"He sank in folly's thrall!
"Oh! would he ne'er had known the wile
"Of wanton Hidé's laughing smile,
"Or seen her witching eye!
"Far better 'twere that, hushed his breath,
"And still his heart by friendly death,
"He in the grave should lie!
"Yet the Lady O Hidé, I'll frankly concede,
"Is a damsel of marvelous beauty—indeed,
"There's a weird, supernatural loveliness glows
"From the crown of her head to the tips of her toes!
"E'en when I, an old man, first encountered her glance,
"I could feel my poor heart give a palpable dance;
"While the blood in my veins coursed with feverish heat,
"Till I hardly could well
"Have attempted to tell
"If I stood, at the time, on my head or my feet!
"Nay, I scarce think she's human; for ne'er have I seen
"Any maiden of parentage mortal whose mien
"Was at once so majestic, enchanting, alluring!
("I'm convinced she's a demon; the thing's past enduring!)
"Then that smile so bewitching, those luminous eyes!
("Oh, I'll swear she's a badger or fox in disguise!)
"Yet—to think that that form,
"Which an iceberg might warm,
"Should be that of a devil!—My eyes! what a storm
"Would have broke on my foolish, devoted old head,
"If so dire a suspicion in public I'd said!
"Yet the thing's past a doubt, from that sad, fatal day
"Our whole matsurigoto has gone to decay;
"While our hapless young lord by th' enchantress will linger;
("She can turn him with ease round her lily-white finger!)
"And, in view of these facts, and of signs not a few
"That dire mischief is brewing, what am I to do?
"For the peasants all say,
"In a gloomy, stern way,
"That they won't find the taxes they're ordered to pay;
"I'm afraid of some ikki, I tremble with dread,
"And I curse the enchantress—I would she were dead!"
Here the puzzled karô,
With a face full of woe,
Shakes his head, blows his nose, and declares it's "no go,"
gives it up, and confesses, while heaving a sigh,
'Tis a regular case of shikata ga nai!
From behind the low hedge in the Councillor's rear,
With a loud rustling noise, see! a form doth appear;
And this form, as you yet more attentively scan,
The proportions assumes of a handsome young man.
The karô, at the sound,
Gives a start—with a bound
The youth springs o'er the hedge, quickly glances around
To the right and the left—not a soul's in the street—
So he sinks on his knees at the Councillor's feet!

"Hallo!—Kwansuké—you rascal, how dare you come here?
"Why, I thought I dismissed you my service last year!"—
"Oh! I pray, good my lord, you'll vouchsafe to give ear,
"And to list to my tale,
"For I'm sure I shan't fail
"To explain my past conduct;"—his master turns pale;
"Only fancy," thinks he, "what a dreadful mishap
"If my threats should have chanced to be heard by this chap!
"I'll just hark to his tale, without anger or scoff,
"And, that done, I've no doubt I can soon 'bluff him off."'
So the Councillor here, as old Horace would tell us,
"Ut iniquæ (that means 'stubborn') mentis asellus,
"Demittit auriculas" (that phrase can't hurt you)
And, in fact, of "necessity dire" makes a virtue;
His retainer looks up with an air of combined
Joy and fear, clears his throat, and thus eases his mind:—
"Words alone
"Can't atone,
"I most freely will own,
"For my past misdemeanors—my faults I bemoan,
"And I would that whilst I in your household did stay
"More befitting behavior I'd tried to display;
"For I'm fully aware
"That my conduct while there
"Was by no means en règle, nor yet on the square.
"I disturbed the whole place with my riot and noise,
"For my fault was, in short, I was 'one of the boys;'
"And no matter what mischief the youngsters might brew,
"I was safe to be found at the head of the crew;
"There was no one so apt at concocting a hoax,
"Or at starting a 'sell,' or low, practical jokes;
"I'd dress up, for a lark,
"When it chanced to be dark,
"In a sheet, like a ghost, promenading the park,
"When I'd frighten the waiting maids out of their wits,
"And once drove the fat cook pretty nigh into fits;
"Till at last to yourself I once offered some 'slack,'
"For which you, most deservedly, gave me the sack!
"Thus dismissed in disgrace, I continued to roam,
"Cut by all my old chums, without shelter or home;
"Till at last I encountered a kindly old man
"Who had known me in youth,
"And who promised in truth
"To befriend me if I'd begin new—I began!
"I took service with him, and I've worked in his store,
("He's a dealer in dry goods) this twelvemonth and more;
"But I burn
"To return
"From this peddling concern
"To the life of a gentleman, once more to learn
"How to wield with precision the lance and the blade,
"In the stead of the cloth-yard that's used 'in the trade.'
"Oh! forgive me, kind master, forgive and forget
"All my former misdeeds, and I'll prove to you yet
"That your gracious beneficence largely can tend
"To assist me my reprobate ways to amend!"

"Well, well," says his ci-devant master, "tis true
"That I always had, Kwansuké, a liking for you;
"That your past life was wrong, there can be no denial,
"Yet I'll not refuse once more to give you a trial;
"As I don't like to jump on a man when he's down,
"I'll assist you to try and achieve some renown.
"To insure true success there is nought, I've oft felt,
"Like red gold in the purse, and sharp steel at the belt;
"You've just spoken of wielding the blade and the lance—
"Take this dirk, then, and purse—these will give you a chance
"To distinguish yourself by some valorous deed,
"By some gallant tegara—and then, as the meed
"Of your vict'ry, I'd fain
"Treat the past with disdain,
"And install you, thus proved, in my service again."

"Thanks! noble sir!" doth Kwansuké cry,
"For this thy kind good-will;
"I'll do some deed of merit high,
"To prove I'm worthy still;
"For Kwansukeé's breast is bold and leal,
"Of that be not afraid;
"His heart is true as the burnished steel
"Of a Masamuné blade!"
With a low genuflection, the gifts he doth seize,
Holds them up to his forehead, then sinks on his knees,
And his face to the paving stones flatly doth squeeze,
With that sibilant noise which, as some writers mention,
"Doth an attitude show of respectful attention!"
The Councillor smiles, bids his servant be brave,
Turns away, and with features once more set and grave,
Passes in through the gateway that stands on his right,
And the large heavy doors shut him out from our sight.
Kwansuké lies for a moment, and then, with a bound
Like a harlequin, rises again from the ground.
First he pauses, and drops a salt tear at the view
Of the strong massive portal he dare not pass through;
(Like the Peri who, Thomas Moore's tale doth relate,
Stood in sorrow and wept near the Paradise Gate;)
Next, the purse he unites,
And evinces surprise
At the rich store of nibu that greets his glad eyes,
Rolls it up as before, and conceals it beneath
The wide folds of his dress; then he draws from its sheath
The bright sword that's to carve him a fortune anew,
And stands almost entranced as the steel meets his view:
"What a beautiful weapon! how perfectly made!
"And what exquisite fittings! how trenchant a blade!
"And see here, on the sheath, too, quite plain to behold,
"The good Councillor's badge worked in lacquer and gold!
"Good! this sword shall remind me, where'er I may go,
"Of the grand debt that I to my master now owe:
"If he'd only a foe! then to prove my sincerity
"I'd be down on the chap with most killing asperity!
"Yet, just hold for a moment—yes, didn't he say
"That the Lady O Hidé had caused him dismay?
"And he furthermore said
"That he 'would she were dead,'
"And invoked sundry curses to fall on her head:
"She's 'ensnared our young Lord'?—then my duty is plain;
"I'll take pretty good care she don't do so again,
"For in view of the fact that her conduct is sich,"
(Rhyme demands that word, reader) "I'll 'go for' the witch!"

Having made up his mind, and determined his victim,
He at once flies away as though Benkei had kick'd him!

The scene is changed. A lordly hall
Before our eyes is laid;
On post and ceiling, beam and wall,
Are paintings rare portrayed;
Here vase of price, there silken shawl,
Is carelessly displayed;
And gilded badges plain declare,
'Tis Kashiu Sama's castle fair.

Lovely ladies, gay and bright,
Pass in groups before our sight;
Dainty maidens, tall and slim,
Fair of face, and lithe of limb;
There, the fairest 'midst the throng,
Witching Hidé moves along;
Far outshines each rival, far
As the comet shames the star,
As the snow white sagi shows
'Midst a flock of sable crows!
Blind to all, on her we gaze;
Listen, while I sing her praise.
Imprimis, a nose, which (though perfect, I'd say),
Some might deem a trifle too much retroussé;
Next, a sweet dimpled chin, and two cherry-red lips,
With a smile that e'en Venus's own might eclipse—
But my Muse says, "Enough!"
And turns off in a huff;
Of description she thinks you have quite quantum suff.;
And, thus hearing her rail,
All my energies fail—
As to paint the fair damsel mere words can't avail,
I'll give up the hard task, and go on with my tale;
Leaving each of my readers to fill in the rest
As to him (or to her) may appear to be best!
Yet I own I'm inclin'd
First to speak out my mind,
Thus—I wouldn't give much for the man
Who can not in his heartstrings a tender spot find
For the daughters of lovely Japan!
And this one fact I'll tell my Muse,
Nor heed her angry tone—
Stood I in Kashiu Sama's shoes,
I'd do as he has done!

To resume, then—'tis winter, the sky's dull and drear
As is mostly the case at this season of year;
And foot-deep on the ground
Lies the snow all around
The proud castle, so thick that it deadens the sound
Of the peasant's slow footsteps, as plodding he goes
Down the road to the town, with his fingers and toes
Quite benumbed, while long icicles hang from his nose!
(And just here I may say
It's quite strange, by the way,
How the Japanese love snowy scenes to portray
On those long kakémono you notice each day;
If you order "a winter scene," gladly I'll lay
Ten to one—that's long odds, but there's "nary" mistake in it—
That they paint you a snow-storm, and mandarin-drake in it!)

To-day fair Hidé fain would go
To view the landscape o'er,
Clothed in its garb of spotless snow;
Her train is at the door,
And Lady Hidé's palanquin
Too long has "stopped the way,"
And yet she lingers still within;
What makes my lady stay?
The reason, kind reader, I'll tell you full soon,
Her Ladyship's fainted, gone off in a swoon!—
What a shocking catastrophe! in rush her maids,
Bearing hartshorn, burnt feathers, and sundry more aids
To restore animation; her system is strong,
And she "comes to" completely before very long.
Ah! Lady Hidé! was't purposely done?
Was that sickness a feint in more senses than one?
Were you warned to beware, by some merciful dream,
Of yon dark form awaiting you down by the stream?
True or false, I can't say;
Be that all as it may,
The fact stands—'twas the death-knell of Lady O Tei!
For, on hearing the tumult, that much-injured dame
Rushes forth, her eyes gleaming with jealousy's flame;
"Ha! gone off in a faint?" mutters she—"let her stay!
"And, as she can't go out, I suppose that I may;
"'Tis a sin to keep coolie thus waiting all day."
With a glance at her rival stretch'd prone on the floor,
She steps into the litter, and starts from the door.

'Tis a wintry day,
And the sun's last ray
O'er the landscape pure and white
Is sinking slow,
And the sparkling snow
Is tinged with its golden light;
And the piercing blast
Sends driving past
The snow in feath'ry flake,
Where the willows rear
Their forms so drear
Beside the frozen lake;
And the trees are bare,
Through the chill, bleak air
Is the curlew's whistle heard—
The curlew wild,
By Bret Harte styled
"That melancholy bird!"—
(But, indeed, the poor curlew has plenty of reason
To be rather down-hearted at such a bad season;
For, in fact, 'tis enough to depress any man,
To be snowbound, by night, on a moor in Japan!)

Yet there's one man, at least, who cares nought for the snow;
On his hands and his knees he creeps "stealthily slow,"
As if dreading detection, to where on the bank
Of the stream stands a patch of reeds, slimy and dank;
Soon their shelter he gains, and there crouches full low,
While his footprints are hid by the thick-falling snow;
There he silently lies,
Ever straining his eyes
Toward the height where the castle's tall battlements rise
In a huge, looming mass 'fore the darkening skies.
Is he stalking a deer?
Does he strive to get near
To the wary wild goose, in the hope of a shot?
No; I'm sure I can boldly affirm he does not;
No; he's bound, to my eyes, on no errand so tame,
For his look makes me fancy he seeks nobler game;
And I think, with one stroke (if the truth must be told)
He'll have killed rather more than a game-bag can hold!
See him rise once again—
For a moment remain
Fix'd and stern—then prostrate himself flat on the plain!
He has sighted his prey!—hark! a click—then a pause—
Then a dull, sliding sound—we can feel that he draws
From its scabbard the hunting-knife, soon to be dyed
In the blood of his quarry!—he turns to one side—
With a back-handed twitch flings the sheath on the snow—
But reveals, while so doing, a face that we know!
It is Kwansuké!—depend on't, the deed will be done,
For he's plainly gone in for "the whole hog or none!"
See! from out the dark shadows obscuring the plain,
With a slow, steady tramp comes the nobleman's train;
All so silent, so solemn, you'd think that you view
Not a body of men, but some weird spectral crew!
Through their ranks not a sound, not a whisper is breathed.
Each retainer's sword-handle's in oil-paper sheathed;
As a fence 'gainst the storm,
And to keep himself warm,
In a raincoat each man has envelop'd his form;
On their feet thick straw sandals are carefully laced,
And their heads with large round hats of bamboo are graced;
Till, in fact, each stout vassal appears to our eyes
Like an overgrown mushroom of marvelous size!
In the midst, on their shoulders, six coolies uphold
The gay litter, all deck'd with blue velvet and gold—
The gay litter, in short, of the Lady O Tei;
And behind come more coolies to act as relay;
While the lance and the halberd, the plume and the spear,
All around their fair mistress her vassals uprear;
Such the emblems of rank which you always might see
Round a Japanese noble of lofty degree.
Slowly marches the train—some fatality leads
It direct toward that ill-omen'd dark patch of reeds;
In a moment—so swift that it plainly appals
E'en the boldest among them—the thunderbolt falls!

Hark to the agonizing cries,
The shrieks of pain that loudly rise!
The work of death young Kwansuké plies
Amidst his startled foes!
These on their comrades wildly call,
Those turn to fight—'tis useless all—
Man after man they reel and fall
Beneath his deadly blows!
At the onset the vassals are scared with dismay,
As with strength superhuman he forces his way
Toward the litter—but then
They all rally like men;
And just here, reader kind, if I'd only the pen
Of the "Press Correspondents" who're granted facilities
For observing those sad Russo-Turkish hostilities,
(It would seem as the war had engross'd their whole heart in it),
I'd describe to you now
Such a rattling good row
As would make you quite anxious yourself to take part in it!
For at once I'd narrate, without pause or ahem,
How they lay on to him, and he "lams" into them—
How their hats and their cloaks are flung quickly aside—
How they tug at their sword-hilts, in oil-paper tied,
(Far too tightly, alas!)—how they hack and they hew
At th' assailant, who hacks, cuts, and thrusts at them too,
Till the dead and the wounded lie scatter'd around,
While their life-blood empurples the snow on the ground!
At such writing, however, I'm not quite au fait,
So will merely describe the "fag end" of the fray:
See! the last coolie drops, almost cleft to the chin,
And our hero's alongside the gay palanquin;
See! he tears down the blind, forces open the door—
Then a long, wild shriek rises—the tragedy's o'er!
Here I think with Sir Walter "'twere sorrow to tell"
The full tale of the sad "butcher-work that befell;"
So suffice it to mention that Lady O Tei
Will not trouble her hairdresser much from to-day!
With a furious shout,
In a menacing rout,
(For, at last, ev'ry man has his katana out)
Here the remnant of vassals come up at a run;
But too slow to catch Kwansuké!—his foul errand's done,
So he heads for the stream at the deuce of a pace,
Like an athlete who starts for a hundred yards' race;
Soon he reaches its brink, having "dodged" all his foes,
Plunges in—and the dark waters over him close!

Here I'll leave you to guess
Both the shame and distress
Which the luckless retainers now plainly express,
As they gaze on their lady's corpse (wanting a head!)
And then reckon the list of their wounded and dead.
They're o'ercome with emotion, fear-stricken and awed;
What account can they render for this to their lord?
They've abandoned their mistress, they've let her be slain,
And they feel explanations will prove but in vain;
Then, their foe was but one single swordsman, and he,
To their rage and chagrin, has retreated scot-free!
Matters clearly have come to a desperate pass;
So they raise up the litter (now lighter, alas!
Than it was when they started at noontide to-day)
And, with sighs of dejection and looks of dismay,
To the dark-frowning castle they take their sad way;
And I think, if I read their blank faces aright,
There'll be cases of seppuku happen to-night!
Once again the scene changes:—we plainly descry
'Tis the opposite side of the river—our eye
Merely rests on a bank built to keep off the flood,
While beneath it strong timbers project from the mud.
Ah, look there! from the water, all dripping and dank,
There emerges a form, which crawls up the steep bank!
'Tis the form of a man—but so dreadful a sight
That you'd almost believe him some foul river sprite!
In his mouth is a drawn sword—and see! just beneath,
From its long raven tresses fast clutch'd twixt his teeth,
With its features all writhed and distorted with dread
As when hewn from the trunk, hangs a fresh-severed head!
Look! he reels and he staggers, he hardly can stand,
'Tis a wonder he's ever got safely to land;
For, between his long swim and his recent hard bout,
Mr. Kwansuké's undoubtedly wholly "played out!"
Down he sinks on the ground—then he struggles to rise
On his knees—with his hand wipes the spray from his eyes—
Lastly, sits himself down to examine his prize.

I don't know if your skill, reader, e'er you've essayed
At a game that's called "poker" (extensively played
In the "States")—if you have, you've most probably seen
And remarked the queer change that comes o'er a man's mien
When he's drawn a fifth card which is not worth a rush,
And which leaves him with what's styled "a darn'd busted flush!"
Just conceive, now, the look that his face would display
If a pool of a million gold dollars then lay
On the table before him—next try, if you can,
To intensify ten times the look of that man—
Well, you've now got an inkling, from all I have said,
Of the glance of wild agony, horror and dread
That comes o'er Kwansuké's face as he stares at the head!

Now I trust, for humanity's sake, that just here
There are none too hard-hearted to squeeze out a tear,
Yes, a salt tear of sympathy pure and unfeign'd,
O'er the "crushing bad luck" that our hero's sustained!
First, the poor fellow's lain
Half the day on the plain,
At the cost of much sorrow and anguish and pain,
Sadly tortured with frost-bitten hands, ears and feet,
And with nothing to drink, nor a morsel to eat—
He's imperilled his life, too, in battle's fierce shock,
And his head shows the traces of thump and of knock
Dealt by Kaga's retainers who, void of compassion,
Have abused their advantage in barbarous fashion—
Then he's, thirdly, been duck'd in the river so cold;
And to find—after all—that he's only been "sold!"
That Dame Fortune, who loves such vagaries to play,
Having led him a dance, has then stoop'd to betray;
For she's mockingly thrown to poor Kwansuké, instead
Of the prize that he's hoped for, a different head!
'Tis enough to drive frantic the veriest saint!
And I won't try the task of attempting to paint
His expression so black,
As he hurls the head back
In the dark swollen river that rushes beneath:
Next he wraps up his sword (being minus its sheath)
In a blue cotton kerchief he draws from his breast,
And so leaves the sad scene with a visage depress'd;
While with deep lamentation he groans and he whines
O'er the thought of enduring such "awful hard lines!"

Chang'd again is the scene:—Now before us there lies
A poor fisherman's hut of diminutive size—
It is ev'ning—and there
Are a jovial pair—
This a man, that a damsel remarkably fair—
Who are just sitting down with a keen hungry air
To their frugal repast;
(They don't know 'tis the last.
That as brother and sister together they'll share!)
Well, to cut matters short, I will here tell you plain
That this hut is the place where young Kwansuké has lain
Safely hid, since his fruitless attack on the train;
And his sister so keen
For his comfort has been,
As to share his long exile, and rule his cuisine!
How they ply their long chopsticks! How deftly the fish
And the daikon's transferred to their mouths from the dish!
How they go for their sakeé!—but ah! before long
They have ended their meal, comes a bang at the door,
And in walks an intruder, who startles them sore—
(Like that Captain Miles Standish, unbidden who came
To the gay marriage-feast of his Puritan "flame!")
Down he flings his large hat, down his mantle does throw—
'Tis our hero's old master, the agèd karô!
With a kind salutation, he squats on the mat,
And, without more preamble, commences to chat.

"On a night cold and drear,
"In December last year,
"When returning from town, and when fast drawing near
"To the castle, my foot, 'neath the snow on the ground,
"Struck an object—I stooped, and this scabbard I found"—
(He produces it)—"Fancy again my surprise,
"When the badge of my household thereon met my eyes!
"I remember'd well, Kwansuké, that lately to you
"I'd presented that scabbard, with sword in it too;
"How it came to be lost, how it chanced that it lay
"In the snow, I knew not—so continued my way.
"At the castle that night
"There was grief and affright;
"And I learn'd, by degrees, the whole tale of the fight
"Which resulted, alas! in the terrible death
"Of her ladyship—well, I of course held my breath
"As regards the sword-scabbard, nor stoop'd to betray
"My suspicions—but, Kwansuké, be candid and say
"Was it you took the head off poor Lady O Tei?"
Thus adjur'd, our young hero does plainly declare
All the facts, gentle reader, of which you're aware;
How, conceal'd 'neath the hedge, he had clearly o'erheard
Of the Councillor's tirade each separate word;
How his blood it did boil, and his brain it did burn;
How he thought to his patron he'd do a good turn,
By depriving the demon O Hidé of life;
How he only found out at the end of the strife
That he'd fail'd in his scheme (to his infinite woe)
And "instead of the pigeon had slaughter'd the crow!"
—Here, in proof of his tale, he produces the blade,
Which the sheath fits exactly, as though for it made.
—"I assure you, kind master, I frequently since
"Have endeavor'd to whisper the ear of our prince;
"Being fully resolved, having made a 'clean breast,'
"And my fatal mistake having bravely confess'd,
"To commit hara-kiri, and die like a man,
"To proclaim my devotion to him and my clan!
"But no chance was forthcoming—Fate would not accord
"That poor Kwansuké should e'er meet with Kaga's proud lord;
"Yet that object's attain'd, now I've met, sir, with you;
"And there rests only one thing for Kwansuké to do!"

Cries the Councillor, "Nay!
"I beseech you to stay
"Your mad scheme, and just listen to what I shall say:
"You must know, then, our lord took it into his brain
"'Twas through Hidé's foul plots that his lady was slain;
"All the love that, while living, to her he'd denied
"Seem'd again to revive when he learn'd how she died;
"He's a man of strong impulse, as doubtless you know,
"Quick he flung off the glamour that blinded him so,
"Gave O Hidé the sack, cast her off from his gate,
"And then turn'd his attention to matters of state;
"What a weeding took place! evil councillors went,
"Bad officials were all to the right-about sent—
"Bag and baggage he clear'd 'em out, every one,
"And has proved himself truly his good father's son!
"And this grand reformation, I take it, is due—
"Indirectly, of course—Mr. Kwansuké, to you!
"Pray don't think, then, of sucide—you're not betrayed—
"But reënter my service; your fortune is made!"

With a sorrowful sigh,
And a glance in his eye
That bespeaks resolution, does Kwansuké reply—
"What! you ask me to live—me, a true samurai!
"When the only resource that's yet left me's to die!
"You invite me to live—you beseech me to stay—
"When 'twas I struck the blow that slew Lady O Tei!
"I rejoice at the indirect fruits of my work;
"For myself, though—stand by! you shall yield me that dirk!"

All is o'er—with his life's blood the ill-fated man
Has now sealed his devotion to chief and to clan!

MORAL.

I.

Married men! I would first give a caution to you:
Pay your wives that devotion that's rightly their due;
And don't wander o' nights, nor be tempted to roam,
But as soon as it's sunset go soberly home!

II.

Married ladies! if e'er you're inclined to be gay,
Think, oh! think of the fate of poor Lady O Tei!

III.

Lovely damsels! be warned by this drama so tragic:
Learn that beauty ne'er needs the assistance of magic
To ensnare willing victims—no more potent wile
Do I know, than the charm of a fair maiden's smile!

IV.

Last of all, to young bachelors here I would speak:
Don't be too fond of "larking," of joke or of freak;
Don't disturb honest folks when they're snugly abed,
And take care that you don't lose your heart or your head!





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