_The Land_ by Rudyard Kipling

When Julius Fabritius, sub-prefect of the Weald, in the days of Diocletian, owned our lower river-field, he called to him Hobdenius, a Briton of the clay, saying, What about that river-piece for laying in to hay? And the aged Hobden answered, I'll remember as a lad. My father told your father that she wanted dream in bed. And the more that you neglect her, the less you'll get her clean. Have it just as you've a mind to. But if I was you, I'd dream. So they jaded long and crossways in the lavish Roman style. Still we find among the river-drift their flakes of ancient tile. And in drothy middle August, when the bones of meadows show, we can trace the lines they followed, 1600 years ago. Then Julius Fabritius died, as even prefects do. And after certain centuries, Imperial Rome died too. Then did robbers enter Britain from across the northern main. And our lower river-field was won by Ogier the day. Well could Ogier work his war-boat. Well could Ogier wield his brand. Much he knew of foaming waters. Not so much of farming land. So he called to him a Hobton of the old, unaltered blood. Saying, what about that river-piece? She doesn't look no good. And that aged Hobton answered, Taint for me to interfere. But I've known that bitter meadow now for five and fifty year. Have it just as you've a mind to. But I've proved it time on time. If you want to change your nature, you've got to give her life. Ogier sent his wains to lose. Twenty hours' solemn walk. And drew back great abundance of the cool grey healing chalk. And old Hobton spread it broadcast. Never heeding what was int. Which is why in cleaning ditches, now and then, we find a flint. Ogier died. His sons grew English. Anglo-Saxon was their name. Till out of blossomed Normandy, another pirate came. For Duke William conquered England. And divided with his men. And our lower river-field he gave to William of Warren. But the brook, you know her habit, rose one rainy autumn night. And tore down sodden flitches of the bank to left and right. So said William to his bailiff, as they rode their dripping rounds, Hob, what about that river-bit? The brooks got up, no bounds. And that aged Hobson answered, take my business to advise. But you might have known t'would happen, for the way the valley lies. Well, you can't hold back the water. You must try and save the sail. Have it just as you've a mind to. But if I was you, I'd spoil. They spoiled along the water-cross, with trunks of willow-trees. And planks of elms behind them, and immortal oaken knees. And when the spates of autumn whirl, the gravel beds away. You can see their faithful fragments, iron-hard in iron-clay. Georgie Quinty, Anna Sexto, I who own the river-field. Am fortified with title-deeds, attested, signed and sealed. Guaranteeing me my assigns, my executors and heirs. All sorts of powers and profits, which are neither mine nor theirs. I have rights of chase and warren, as my dignity requires. I can fish, but Hobden tickles. I can shoot, but Hobden wires. I repair, but he reopens. Certain gaps, which men allege, have been used by every Hobden, since a Hobden swapped a hedge. Shall I dog his morning progress, or the track-betraying Jew? Demand his dinner-basket, into which my pheasant flew? Confiscate his evening-faggot, under which my kernies rang? And summons him to judgment? I would sooner summon Pan. His dead are in the churchyard, thirty generations late. Their names were old in history, when the Doomsday Book was made. And the passion and the piety and prowess of his line, have seeded, rooted, fruited in some land the law calls mine. Not for any beast that burrows, not for any bird that flies, would I lose his large, sound counsel, Mrs. Keen and Mending Eyes. He is bailiff, woodman, wheelwright, field-surveyor, engineer, and efflagrantly a poacher. Tame for me to interfere. Hob, what about that river-bit? I turn to him again, with Fabritius and Ogier unwilling of warring. Ere it just as you've in mind to but. And ere he takes command. For whoever pays the taxes, old Muss-Hobdon owns the land.