Yea, the voiceless wrath of the wretched,
    and their unlearned discontent,—­
  We must give it voice and wisdom
    till the waiting-tide be spent.

  Come then, since all things call us,
    the living and the dead,
  And o’er the weltering tangle
    a glimmering light is shed.

  Come then, let us cast off fooling,
    and put by ease and rest,
  For the Cause alone is worthy
    till the good days bring the best.

  Come, join in the only battle
    wherein no man can fail,
  Where whoso fadeth and dieth,
    yet his deed shall still prevail.

  Ah! come, cast off all fooling,
    for this, at least, we know: 
  That the dawn and the day is coming,
    and forth the banners go.

WILLIAM MORRIS.

* * * * *

THE GRAVE OF BONAPARTE.

  On a lone barren isle, where the wild roaring billows
    Assail the stern rock, and the loud tempests rave,
  The hero lies still, while the dew-drooping willows,
    Like fond weeping mourners, lean over the grave. 
  The lightnings may flash, and the loud thunders rattle: 
    He heeds not, he hears not, he’s free from all pain;—­
  He sleeps his last sleep—­he has fought his last battle! 
    No sound can awake him to glory again!

  O shade of the mighty, where now are the legions
    That rushed but to conquer when thou led’st them on? 
  Alas! they have perished in far hilly regions,
    And all save the fame of their triumph is gone! 
  The trumpet may sound, and the loud cannon rattle! 
    They heed not, they hear not, they’re free from all pain: 
  They sleep their last sleep, they have fought their last battle! 
    No sound can awake them to glory again!

  Yet, spirit immortal, the tomb cannot bind thee,
    For, like thine own eagle that soared to the sun,
  Thou springest from bondage and leavest behind thee
    A name which before thee no mortal had won. 
  Though nations may combat, and war’s thunders rattle,
    No more on the steed wilt thou sweep o’er the plain: 
  Thou sleep’st thy last sleep, thou hast fought thy last battle! 
    No sound can awake thee to glory again!

LEONARD HEATH.

* * * * *

THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM.

[In Bavaria, August 13, 1704, between the English and Austrians on one side, under the Duke of Marlborough and Prince Eugene, and the French and Bavarians on the other side, led by Marshal Tallart and the Elector of Bavaria.  The latter party was defeated, and the schemes of Louis XIV. of France were materially checked.]

  It was a summer evening,—­
    Old Kaspar’s work was done,
  And he before his cottage door
    Was sitting in the sun;
  And by him sported on the green
  His little grandchild Wilhelmine.