144 MYSTIC ISLES 



Hallelujah! Thine the glory! Hallelujah! Amen! 

 Hallelujah! Thine the glory! revive us again! 



Kelly's version was: 



Hallelujah! I 'm a bum! Hallelujah! Bum again! 

 Hallelujah! Give us a hand-out! To save us from sin. 



He had the stanzas, burlesquing the sacred lines, one 

 of which the natives especially liked : 



Oh, why don't you work, as other men do? 



How the hell can we work when there 's no work to do ?' 



None of us had ever heard Kelly's songs, nor had 

 any one but I ever heard of his industrial organization, 

 and I only vaguely, having lived so many years out of 

 America or Europe. But they all cheered enthusias- 

 tically except Llewellyn. He was an Anglican by 

 faith or paternal inheritance, and though he knew 

 nothing of the real hymns, they being for Dissenters, 

 whom he contemned, he was religious at soul and ob- 

 jected to making light of religion. He called for the 

 ''Himene Tatou Arearea" He took his pencil and 

 scribbled the translation I have given. 



"This is the rough of it," he said. "To write poetry 

 here is difficult. When I was at Heidelberg and Paris I 

 often spent nights writing sonnets. That merely tells 

 the sense of the himene, but cannot convey the joy or 

 sorrow of it. Well, let 's sink dull care fifty fathoms 

 deep ! Look at those band-boys ! So long as they have 

 plenty of rum or beer or wine and their instrmnents, 

 they care little for food. Watch them. Now they are 

 dry and inactive. Wait till the alcohol wets them. 

 They will touch the sky." 



