“0 "O Lady, thy Lover is Dead" LADY, thy lover is dead," they cried; "Alas! I am well repaid," said she, "Now I shall hold my head on high, If ye hear a sound, 't is only a sigh George Mac Donald. The Only Son BITTER wind toward the sunset blowing, In yonder gray old hall what fires are glow- What ring of festal light? "In the great window as the day was dwindling His head was proudly held and his eyes kindling, O wind of twilight, was there no word uttered, "A great fight and a good death,' he muttered; What of the chamber dark where she was lying For whom all life is done? "Within her heart she rocks a dead child, crying 'My son, my little son. The Fair Brass A N effigy of brass Trodden by careless feet Lieth in the sombre aisle It shows a warrior arm'd: His hands by death are charmed Wherewith he led his men Would we could teach our sons His trust in face of doom, Or give our bravest ones Such as to look on shrives So in each line survives So fair the characters, Yet dearer far to me, And brave as he are they, Who fight by land and sea For England at this day; Whose vile memorials, Heirs of our antique shrines, Across the deathful days, That loves our country's praise, And lives for heavenly good. Robert Bridges. Dulce et Decorum In Memoriam H.P.P.-F.M.-J.W.A.C.-1900-1 W HEN I lie dying in my bed, A grief to wife, and child, and friendHow I shall grudge you gallant dead Your sudden, swift, heroic end! Dear hands will minister to me, Dear eyes denote each shallower breath: You had your battle-cries, you three, To cheer and charm you to your death. You did not wane from worse to worst, These twenty years ago and more, 'Mid purple heather and brown crag, Our whole school numbered scarce a score, And three have fallen for the Flag. You two have finished on one side, But that was where you learnt the way. And the third face! I see it now, Ah! gallant three, too young to die! Shall lie and long for such as yours. E. W. Hornung. Minora Sidera (The Dictionary of National Biography) ITTING at times over a hearth that burns My thought, leaving the book, gratefully To you who planned it so. Not of the great only you deigned to tell- But lights out of the night that flashed, and fell Such as were those, dogs of an elder day, And those later who dared grapple their prey Some with flag at the fore, sweeping the world To find an equal fight, And some who joined war to their trade, and hurled Whether their fame centuries long should ring They cared not over-much, But cared greatly to serve God and the king, And keep the Nelson touch; |