In Which, contrary to Artistic Custom, the moral of the piece is placed
before the reader.

(From the first Khandaka of the Mahavagga: "There Buddha thus addressed
his disciples: 'Everything, O mendicants, is burning. With what fire is
it burning? I declare unto you it is burning with the fire of passion,
with the fire of anger, with the fire of ignorance. It is burning with
the anxieties of birth, decay and death, grief, lamentation, suffering
and despair.... A disciple,... becoming weary of all that,
divests himself of passion. By absence of passion, he is made free.'")

# To be intoned after the manner of a priestly service. #
I once knew a teacher,
Who turned from desire,
Who said to the young men
"Wine is a fire."
Who said to the merchants:--
"Gold is a flame
That sears and tortures
If you play at the game."
I once knew a teacher
Who turned from desire
Who said to the soldiers,
"Hate is a fire."
Who said to the statesmen:--
"Power is a flame
That flays and blisters
If you play at the game."
I once knew a teacher
Who turned from desire,
Who said to the lordly,

"Pride is a fire."
Who thus warned the revellers:--
"Life is a flame.
Be cold as the dew
Would you win at the game
With hearts like the stars,
With hearts like the stars."
# Interrupting very loudly for the last time. #
SO BEWARE,
SO BEWARE,
SO BEWARE OF THE FIRE.
Clear the streets,
BOOM, BOOM,
Clear the streets,
BOOM, BOOM,
GIVE THE ENGINES ROOM,
GIVE THE ENGINES ROOM,
LEST SOULS BE TRAPPED
IN A TERRIBLE TOMB.
SAYS THE SWIFT WHITE HORSE
TO THE SWIFT BLACK HORSE:--
"THERE GOES THE ALARM,
THERE GOES THE ALARM.
THEY ARE HITCHED, THEY ARE OFF,
THEY ARE GONE IN A FLASH,
AND THEY STRAIN AT THE DRIVER'S IRON ARM."
CLANG... A... RANGA.... CLANG... A... RANGA....
CLANG... CLANG... CLANG....
CLANG... A... RANGA.... CLANG... A... RANGA....
CLANG... CLANG... CLANG....
CLANG... A... RANGA.... CLANG... A... RANGA....
CLANG... CLANG... _CLANG_....

The Master of the Dance

A chant to which it is intended a group of children shall dance and
improvise pantomime led by their dancing-teacher.

I

A master deep-eyed
Ere his manhood was ripe,
He sang like a thrush,
He could play any pipe.
So dull in the