Shakespeare was of us,° Milton was for us,

Burns, Shelley, were with us,

their graves!

they watch from

He alone breaks from the van and the freemen,
He alone sinks to the rear and the slaves!

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We shall march prospering - not through his presence;
Songs may inspirit us, not from his lyre;
Deeds will be done, while he boasts his quiescence,
Still bidding crouch whom the rest bade aspire : 20
Blot out his name, then, record one lost soul more,
One task more declined, one more footpath untrod,
One more devil's-triumph and sorrow for angels,

One wrong more to man, one more insult to God! Life's night begins: let him never come back to us! 25 There would be doubt, hesitation, and pain,

Forced praise on our part the glimmer of twilight, Never glad confident morning again!

Best fight on well, for we taught him-strike gallantly, Menace our heart ere we master his own;

Then let him receive the new knowledge and wait us, Pardoned in heaven, the first by the throne !

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HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT

TO AIX

[16-]

I SPRANG to the stirrup, and Joris, and he;

I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; "Good speed!" cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew;

"Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through; Behind shut the postern,° the lights sank to rest, 5 And into the midnight we galloped abreast.

Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place;

I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight,
Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right, 10
Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit,
Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.

15

'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear; At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see; At Düffeld, 'twas morning as plain as could be; And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the halfchime,

So, Joris broke silence with, "Yet there is time!"

At Aershot, up leaped of a sudden the sun,
And against him the cattle stood black every one,
To stare through the mist at us galloping past,
And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last,
With resolute shoulders, each butting away
The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray :

20

And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back

For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track; And one eyes' black intelligence, -ever that glance O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance!

25

And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on.

30

By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur !

Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her,
We'll remember at Aix"

wheeze

for one heard the quick

Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering

knees,

And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank,

As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank.

So, we were left galloping, Joris and I,

Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky;
The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh,

35

'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff;

Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white,°
And "Gallop," gasped Joris, " for Aix is in sight!"

40

"How they'll greet us!" and all in a moment his

roan

Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone;

And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight 45
Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate,
With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim,
And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim.

Then I cast loose my buff-coat,° each holster let fall, Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all, Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear,

50

Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer;

Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good,

Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood.

55

And all I remember is, - friends flocking round
As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground;
And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine,
As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine,
Which (the burgesses voted by common consent)
Was no more than his due who brought good news
from Ghent.

HOME THOUGHTS, FROM ABROAD

OH, to be in England

Now that April's there,

60

And whoever wakes in England

Sees, some morning, unaware,

That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf

Round the elm-tree bole° are in tiny leaf,

While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough

In England

now!

And after April, when May follows,

And the white-throat builds, and all the swallows! 10 Hark! where my blossomed pear tree in the hedge Leans to the field and scatters on the clover

Blossoms and dewdrops at the bent spray's edgeThat's the wise thrush°; he sings each song twice over, Lest you should think he never could recapture

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15

The first fine careless rapture!

And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,
All will be gay when noontide wakes anew
The buttercups, the little children's dower
- Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower!

HOME THOUGHTS, FROM THE SEA

20

NOBLY, nobly, Cape Saint Vincent to the Northwest died away;

Sunset ran, one glorious blood-red, reeking into Cadiz Bay;

Bluish 'mid the burning water, full in face Trafalgar lay;

In the dimmest Northeast distance dawned Gibraltar grand and gray;

"Here and here did England help me how can I help England?"-say,

Whoso turns as I, this evening, turn to God and pray,° While Jove's planet rises yonder, silent over Africa.

INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP

You know, we French stormed Ratisbon:

A mile or so away

On a little mound, Napoleon

Stood on our storming-day;

With neck out-thrust, you fancy how,

Legs wide, arms locked behind,

As if to balance the prone brow
Oppressive with its mind.

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