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'Speak, father!' once again he cried,
'If I may yet be gone!'

And but the booming shots replied,
And fast the flames roll'd on.

Upon his brow he felt their breath,

And in his waving hair,

And look'd from that lone post of death

In still, yet brave despair;

And shouted but once more aloud,

'My father! must I stay?'

While o'er him fast through sail and shroud,

The wreathing fires made way.

They wrapt the ship in splendour wild,

They caught the flag on high,

And streamed above the gallant child

Like banners in the sky.

Then came a burst of thunder-sound

The boy-oh! where was he?
Ask of the winds that far around
With fragments strewed the sea,

With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,
That well had borne their part;
But the noblest thing that perished there
Was that young faithful heart!

F. Hemans

XXVI

SIGNS OF RAIN

The hollow winds begin to blow,
The clouds look black, the glass is low,
The soot falls down, the spaniels sleep,
The spiders from their cobwebs peep:
Last night the sun went pale to bed,
The moon in halos hid her head;
The boding shepherd heaves a sigh,
For, see, a rainbow spans the sky:
The walls are damp, the ditches smell,
Closed is the pink-eyed pimpernel.
Hark how the chairs and tables crack!
Old Betty's joints are on the rack;
Loud quack the ducks, the peacocks cry,
The distant hills are seeming nigh.
How restless are the snorting swine;
The busy flies disturb the kine;
Low o'er the grass the swallow wings,
The cricket too, how sharp he sings;
Puss on the hearth, with velvet paws,
Sits wiping o'er her whiskered jaws.
Through the clear stream the fishes rise,
And nimbly catch the incautious flies.
The glow-worms, numerous and bright,
Illumed the dewy dell last night.
At dusk the squalid toad was seen,
Hopping and crawling o'er the green;
The whirling wind the dust obeys,
And in the rapid eddy plays;

The frog has changed his yellow vest,
And in a russet coat is dressed.

Though June, the air is cold and still,
The mellow blackbird's voice is shrill.
My dog, so altered in his taste,

Quits mutton-bones on grass to feast ;
And see yon rooks, how odd their flight,
They imitate the gliding kite,

And seem precipitate to fall,
As if they felt the piercing ball.
'Twill surely rain, I see with sorrow,

Our jaunt must be put off to-morrow.

E. Jenner

XXVII

HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX

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, 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,

Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit, Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.

'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 half-chime,

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

At Aerschot, 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;

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 eye's black intelligence,-ever that glance O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance ! And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and

anon

His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on.

By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, 'Stay

spur!

Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her, We'll remember at Aix'-for one heard the quick wheeze

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 Loos and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky; The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh, 'Neath our foot broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff;

Till over by Dalhem a dome-tower sprang white, And 'Gallop,' cried Joris, 'for Aix is in sight!'

'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 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 my loose 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, 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.

And all I remember is friends flocking round As I sate 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.

R. Browning

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