RECUSANTS AND

STANDARD-BEARERS

Increase of lays ncreases misery.

And misery brings selfishness which ears

The heart's first feelings: mid the battie's roar.
In Death's tread grasp, the soldier's eyes are blind
To comrades iving, and be whose hopes are ver
Turns coldest from the sufferings of mankind.

This I beneid, or treamed it in 1 iream:-
There spread a cloud of just xiong 1 piain;
And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged

A furious battle, and men yeiled, and swords
Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince's banner
Wavered. then staggered backward, hemmed by foes.
A craven ung along the battle's edge,

And thought. Had I a sword of keener steel-
That bine blade that the king's son bears, but this
Blunt thing-!' he snapt and fung it from his hand,
And lowering crept away and left the field.

Then came the king's son, wounded, sore bestead.
And weaponiess, and saw the broken sword,
Hilt-buried in the dry and trodden sand,

And ran and snatched it, and with battle-shout
Lifted afresh he hewed his enemy iown,
And saved a great cause that heroic day.

To Wordsworth

POET of Nature, thou hast wept to know
That things depart which never may return;
Childhood and youth, friendship and love's first glow,
Have fled like sweet dreams, leaving thee to mourn.

These common woes I feel.

Which thou too feel'st, yet I

One loss is mine

alone deplore.

Thou wert as a lone star, whose light did shine
On some frail bark in winter's midnight roar :
Thou hast like to a rock-built refuge stood
Above the blind and battling multitude :
In honoured poverty thy voice did weave
Songs consecrate to truth and liberty,-
Deserting these, thou leavest me to grieve,
Thus having been, that thou shouldst cease to be.

PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.

The Lost Leader

JUST for a handful of silver he left us,

Just for a riband to stick in his coat

Found the one gift of which fortune bereft us,

Lost all the others she lets us devote;
They, with the gold to give, doled him out silver,
So much was theirs who so little allowed:

How all our copper had gone for his service!

Rags were they purple, his heart had been proud!

RECUSANTS AND STANDARD-BEARERS

WELL,

Stanzas to...

ELL, some may hate, and some may scorn,
And some may quite forget thy name ;

But my sad heart must ever mourn
Thy ruined hopes, thy blighted fame!
'Twas thus I thought, an hour ago,
Even weeping o'er that wretch's woe;
One word turned back my gushing tears,
And lit my altered eye with sneers.
Then, Bless the friendly dust', I said,

6

'That hides thy unlamented head!

Vain as thou wert, and weak as vain,
The slave of Falsehood, Pride, and Pain—
My heart has nought akin to thine;
Thy soul is powerless over mine.'

But these were thoughts that vanished too;
Unwise, unholy, and untrue :

Do I despise the timid deer,

Because his limbs are fleet with fear?

Or would I mock the wolf's death-howl,
Because his form is gaunt and foul?
Or hear with joy the leveret's cry,
Because it cannot bravely die?
No! Then above his memory

Let Pity's heart as tender be;

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Say Earth, lie lightly on that breast,

And, kind Heaven, grant that spirit rest!'

EMILY BRONTË.