The Montgomery advertiser., 1903-10-04

poems from the pen of Rudyard Kipling will be published tomorrow. They will appear in a volume entitled ''The Five Nations," published simultaneously in New York and London, the American edi- ton coming from the presses of Double day, Page & Go. The poet gained the in- spfration for most of his new work in the South African war and several of the poems take rank with the best service songs that he sang in India in bygone years. He is generous in praise of the Boer and not afraid to ridicule the errors of his own countrymen. One of the best of the poems Is a tribute to the Boer un- der the title of "Piet." written in the same spirit that produced Fuzzy wuz- zy." Here are two stanzas from it: do not love my Empires foes,
 Nor call 'em nagels: still,
 What is the sense of 'atin those So. barrin' all that foreign lot
 Which only joined for spite,
 Myself, I'd just as soon as not
 Respect the man I fight.
 An there. Pet! is trousies to Is knees,
 Is coat;tails lyin' level in the bullet E does not lose is ride. an he does not
 I've known . lot Q people ride dam
 sight worse than Piet!
 No more I'll 'ear is rife crack
 Along the block ouse fence
 The beggars on the peaceful tack, For countin what e eats an draws. Els gettin' 'alf the Earth, because
 E didn't give us 'ell
 An there, Piet! with your brand-new
 English plough.
 Your gratis tents an cattle, an your
 most ungrateful frow,
 You've made the British taxpayer
 Rebuild your country-seat-
 I've known some pet battalions
 Charge a dam sight less than Piet. Copyrighted 1908 by Rudyard Kipling.) The Colonials who served in South Af- rica are praised in 'The Parting of the Columns" Three verses from 1t follow: There isn't much we 'avent shared, since
 Kruger cut an run, The same old work the same old skoff.
 tie same old dust and sun; The same old chance that laid US out, or
 winked an let us through; The same old Life, the same old Death
 Good bye-good luck to you! Our blood as truly mixed with yours-all
 Down the Red Cross train. We've bit the same thermometer in
 Bloemingtyphoidtein; We've lad tho same old temprature-the
 same relapses too. The same old Saw-backed fever-chart.
 Good-bye-good luck to you! But 'twasn't merely this an that (which
 all the world may know),- Twas how you talked an looked at things
 which made us like you so. All independent, queer an old, but most
 amazin new.
 My word! you shook us up to rights.
 Good-bye-good luck to you! kCopyrightec. 1903. by Rudyard Kipling.) Chant-Pagan Is the lament of the Eng fish Irregular who finds England tame and unbearable after South Africa and war. Part of the poem follows: He that ave been what I've been. He that ave gone where I've gone, He that ave seen what I've seen 'Ow can I ever take on With awful old England again. An 'ouses both sides of the street And edges two sides of the lane. And the parson an sentry between, An touchin' my at when we meet He that ave been what I've been? He that lave watched 'arf world Have up all shiny with dew, Kopte on kor to the sun,
 An as soon as the mist let 'em through Our 'elios winldn like fun
 Three sides of a ninety-mile square. Over valleys as big as q shire Are ,nys.t ys tthereT Are yo there? Arc ye An then the blind drum of our fire .. An I'm rollin' is lawns for the Squire, I will arise an get 'cnce. ] will trek south and make sure 1T It's only my fancy or not That the sunshine of England Is pale. And the breezes of England are stale, An there's somethin' gone small with
 the lot:
 For know of a sun an a wind, An some plains and q mountain be'ind An so-nc graves by a barb-wire fence; An a Dutchman I've fought 'oo might Me a job were I ever inclined, To look in an ofesaddle an live Where there's neither a road nor a tree But only my Maker an me, An think 1t will kill me or cure, So I think I will go there an see Copyright, 1903, by Rudyard Kipling. ] There Is some grim humor in the Two ESop3Ss which deals with the experience of the British in fighting in the South African hills. Part of the poem follows: Only two African kop1es,
 Only the cart tracks that wind Empty and open between 'em,
 Only the Trausvaal behind; Only an Aldershot column,
 Marching to conquer the land Only O sudden and solemn,
 Visit, unsrmed, to the Rand. Then scorn not the African kopje. The kopje that smiles in the heat, The wholly unoccupied kopje,
 Ths home of Cornelius and Piet. You can never be sure of your kopje.