Rhymes of the East and Re-collected Verses — A Closer Reading

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Dum-Dum, 1869-1952 Project Gutenberg 2007 Not confirmed
English poetry -- 20th century; India -- Poetry Readers of public-domain and historical texts
Project Gutenberg digital edition en

Edition facts

Words 14,582
Reading time 64 min
Text sections 3

Before opening Rhymes of the East and Re-collected Verses — A Closer Reading, the edition data offers a quick orientation: 14,582 words, 1 hr 4 min estimated reading time, and 3 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 25.1 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “English poetry -- 20th century,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

This editorial note examines how the opening, middle, and later excerpts of Dum-Dum's 'Rhymes of the East and Re-collected Verses' guide a first reading, focusing on the poet's use of parody, local detail, and shifting tone from satirical observation to nostalgic reflection.
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Read the Text

They were conscious of the honour, they were sound in wind and limb, They could carry a cathedral, but they drew the line at _him_.

But he stuck to it, till finally his pressing needs were filled By the mammoth of his species, a Leviathan in build, A superb upstanding brown, of unexceptionable bone, And phenomenally qualified to carry twenty stone.

And the General was happy; for the noble creature showed An unruffled acquiescence with the nature of his load; Till without the slightest warning, that superb upstanding brown Thought it time to make a protest, which he did by lying down.

They appealed to him, reproached him, gave him sugar, cut his feed, But in vain; for almost daily that inexorable steed, When he heard his master coming, looked insultingly around, And with cool deliberation laid him down upon the ground.

But they fought it out between them, till the undefeated brute Made a humorous obeisance at the General Salute! Then his owner kicked him wildly in the stomach for his pranks, Said he'd stand the beast no longer, and returned him to the ranks.

(_An interval of about three years._)

Time has dulled our hero's anguish; time has raised our man of weight To an even higher office in the service of the State; And we find him at his yearly tour, inspecting at his ease A distinguished corps of cavalry, the Someone's Own D. G.'s.

And our fat but famous man of war, accoutred to the nines, Was engaged in making rude remarks, and going round the lines, When he suddenly beheld across an intervening space A Leviathan of horseflesh, the Behemoth of his race.

'Colonel Robinson,' he shouted, with enthusiastic force, 'A remarkably fine horse, sir!' The remarkably fine horse Gave a reminiscent shudder, looked insultingly around, And with cold deliberation laid him down upon the ground!

ODE TO THE TIME-GUN OF GURRUMBAD

[Time-guns are of invariable pattern and extreme antiquity. Other species come and go; their ancestor remains always. One is to be found in each cantonment: he generally occupies a position of unsheltered and pathetic loneliness in a corner of the local parade-ground. The writer has never seen one herded in the Gun-park with his kind.]

Strong scion of the sturdy past When simpler methods ruled the fray, At whose demoralising blast The stoutest foe recoiled aghast, How fall'n art thou to-day!

Thy power the little children mock; Thy voice, that shook the serried line, But supplements the morning cock At--roughly speaking--one o'clock, And--broadly--half-past nine.

(Saving when THOMAS' deep employ Th' attendant closing hour postpones, And he, the undefeated boy, To gain a temporary joy, Hath stuffed thee up with stones.)

Thy kindred of a mushroom 'Mark,' Young guns, intolerably spruce, Have cast thee from the social 'park'; Which, to their humbled patriarch, Must be the very deuce.

Their little toils with leisure crowned, They, in their turn, will seek the Vale Of Rest that thou hast never found; What wonder if thy daily Round Is very like a Wail?

Yet many love thee. Though his clutch Be heavy, Time doth still afford That fine consolatory touch-- It hardly seems to go for much, But cannot be ignored.

For him that braves the midday fare Thou hast the immemorial task Of booming forth at one--or there- abouts--which saves the wear and tear Of yelling out to ask.

So, when athwart the glooming flats Thy hoarse, nocturnal whispers stray-- Much to the horror of the bats-- We're one day nearer home, and that's A comfort, anyway!

Then courage! Guns may come and go, But him alone we hold divine Whose task it is to let us know The hours of one o'clock--or so-- And--roundly--half-past nine.

BY A RENEGADE DISCIPLE

Wake! for Reveillée scatters into flight The flagging Rearguard of a ruined Night, And hark! the meagre Champion of the Roost Has flung a matins to the Throne of Light.

Here, while the first beam smites the sullen Sky, With silent feet Hajâm comes stealing nigh, Bearing the Brush, the Vessel, and the Blade, These sallow cheeks of mine to scarify.

How often, oh, how often have I sworn Myself myself to shave th' ensuing Morn! And then--and then comes Guest-night, and Hajâm Appears unbidden, and is gladly borne.

Come, fill the Cup! The nerve-restoring Ti Shall woo me with the Leaf of far Bohi; What matter that to some the Koko makes Appeal, to some the Cingalese Kofi?

For in a minute Toil, that ever thrives, Awaits me with her Shackles and her Gyves, And ever crieth Folly in the streets: 'To work! for needs ye must when Shaitân drives.'

The volume opens with a parody of Thomas Gray's 'Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard,' transposed to an Indian garden where 'the time-gun rolls his nerve-destroying bray' and 'the toiling moon rides slowly o'er the trees.' The mock-heroic tone is established immediately, as the poet describes 'the Aryan Brothers of our household' dining on 'cold boiled rice, in native butter greased.' This blend of elevated diction with mundane colonial realities sets the pattern for the collection: a speaker who observes Anglo-Indian life with ironic detachment, yet remains embedded in its routines.

The author's note reveals that most verses first appeared in Punch, and that earlier Bombay publications contained 'work that was too local or topical in interest to stand reproduction.' This context helps explain the dual audience addressed: readers 'in, or of, India' who would recognize the scenes, and those whose knowledge comes 'from hearsay.' The excerpts thus serve as a guided tour of a vanished world, filtered through a knowing, self-deprecating persona.

Parody as a Lens on Colonial Life

The opening poem's debt to Gray is not merely decorative. By replacing Gray's 'lowly bed' with a 'jagged tiles, that low-built roof,' Dum-Dum signals that his subject is not universal human mortality but the specific discomforts and absurdities of imperial service. The 'time-gun' and 'bugler' root the scene in military routine, while the 'ambiguous mule' that 'bewails' its inability to eat its own blanket introduces a strain of absurdist humor that recurs throughout.

This parodic method allows the poet to critique without overt condemnation. The 'weary diners' and 'thirsty Thomas' are treated sympathetically, even as their rituals are gently mocked. The reader is invited to share the joke, but also to notice the underlying melancholy: 'melancholy silence rules the scene.' The parody thus becomes a vehicle for ambivalence, balancing affection for the community with awareness of its limitations.

The Hockey Match: Epic Scale and Domestic Farce

'The Last Hockey' demonstrates Dum-Dum's most sustained use of mock-heroic. The poem adapts Tennyson's 'The Passing of Arthur' to describe a women's hockey match between 'Damsel v. Dame,' complete with a 'bold Sir Referee' and 'the mournful guardian of the Sacred Goal.' The incongruity between the elevated style and the trivial subject—'the muffled shin, / The sudden whistle'—generates comedy, but also reveals the poet's fascination with the physicality and chaos of the game.

The central figure, Susan, is described with a mixture of admiration and alarm: 'Deftly she smote, and drave / On, and so paddled swiftly in its wake.' Her 'strange diagonal' movement and eventual fall, which exposes 'black stockings, mystic, wonderful,' become the climax of the poem. The coolies' chortling and the ladies' 'self-approved' seating suggest a social hierarchy that the match temporarily disrupts. The poem ends with the Referee carried off in Susan's litter, his views drowned by a 'sweet, small song' that parodies the dirge from Tennyson's original.

Recurring Motifs: The Time-Gun, the Hills, and the 'Shiny East'

Several motifs link the excerpts. The 'time-gun' that opens the collection reappears in the contents list with 'Ode to the Time-Gun of Gurrumbad,' suggesting a running joke about military punctuality and noise. The 'Hills' are another constant: poems like 'Ode on a Distant Prospect of Ever Getting to the Hills' and 'To My Lady of the Hills' indicate a longing for escape from the heat and tedium of the plains, a theme familiar in Anglo-Indian writing.

The phrase 'Shiny East' in the author's note is deliberately ironic, undercutting romantic notions of India. Dum-Dum's India is a place of 'native butter,' 'wet canteens,' and 'coolies' who 'chortle' at the mishaps of their rulers. Yet the poet's tone is rarely cruel; he includes himself in the comedy. The 'Re-collected Verses' of the title—poems 'overhauled' from earlier collections—suggest a process of retrospection, as if the author is sifting through memories of a world already passing.

Voice and Audience: The Insider's Irony

Dum-Dum's persona is that of a seasoned colonial servant, writing for an audience that shares his experiences. The author's note addresses 'Readers in, or of, India' directly, and the poems are filled with references—'dunder-stick,' 'Aryan Brothers,' 'coolie'—that would require glossing for outsiders. The humor depends on recognition: the reader must know what a 'time-gun' is, or why a mule eating its blanket is funny.

Yet the poet also anticipates a wider readership, hoping the volume 'may not be without interest to those whose knowledge of the Shiny East is derived from hearsay.' This dual address creates a tension between insider jokes and explanatory gestures. The excerpts suggest that Dum-Dum manages this balance by keeping the irony light and the scenes vivid. Even without footnotes, the physical details—'jagged tiles,' 'autumn grass,' 'the shuddering Orient skies'—convey a sense of place that transcends the specific references.

Reading these excerpts in sequence reveals a poet who uses parody not as mere imitation but as a tool for observation. The movement from the Gray-inspired nocturne to the Tennysonian hockey match shows a writer experimenting with form to capture the peculiar texture of Anglo-Indian life. The later poems, hinted at in the contents—'Elegy on a Rhinoceros,' 'The Shores of Nothing'—may deepen the note of melancholy that surfaces in the opening. A first reader would do well to attend to the shifting registers: the same voice that mocks the 'time-gun' can also, in 'Kal!' or 'To an Elephant,' turn unexpectedly tender.

There are books that feel less like something you finished and more like a room you wandered through at dusk. Rhymes of the East left that impression on me—its sharp little parodies giving way, so gently, to something almost tender. It made me think of The Book of Humorous Verse — Edition Insights, which holds that same quiet shift between a grin and a sigh, the way laughter sometimes carries a memory without trying.

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