Say not the struggle nought availeth,
The labour and the wounds are vain,
The enemy faints not, nor faileth,

And as things have been, they remain.

If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;
It may be, in yon smoke concealed,
Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers,

And, but for you, possess the field.

For while the tired waves, vainly breaking,
Seem here no painful inch to gain,

Far back, through creeks and inlets making,
Comes silent, flooding in, the main.

And not by eastern windows only,

When daylight comes, comes in the light,
In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly,
But westward, look, the land is bright.

-A. H. Clough.

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And the stately ships go on

To their haven under the hill;

But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still!

Break, break, break,

At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!

But the tender grace of a day that is dead

Will never come back to me.

-Tennyson.

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XXV. WAGES

Glory of warrior, glory of orator, glory of song,

Paid with a voice flying by to be lost on an endless seaGlory of Virtue, to fight, to struggle, to right the wrongNay, but she aim'd not at glory, no lover of glory she: Give her the glory of going on, and still to be.

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The wages of sin is death: if the wages of Virtue be dust, Would she have heart to endure for the life of the worm and the fly?

She desires no isles of the blest, no quiet seats of the just,
To rest in a golden grove, or to bask in a summer sky:
Give her the wages of going on, and not to die.

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-Tennyson.

XXVI. QUIET WORK

One lesson, Nature, let me learn of thee,
One lesson which in every wind is blown.
One lesson of two duties kept at one

Though the loud world proclaim their enmity

Of toil unsevered from tranquillity;
Of labour, that in lasting fruit outgrows
Far noisier schemes, accomplished in repose,
Too great for haste, too high for rivalry.

Yes, while on earth a thousand discords ring,
Man's senseless uproar mingling with his toil,
Still do thy quiet ministers move on,

Their glorious tasks in silence perfecting;
Still working, blaming still our vain turmoil;
Labourers that shall not fail, when man is gone.

--M. Arnold.

XXVII. RECESSIONAL

God of our fathers, known of old—

Lord of our far-flung battle-line—
Beneath Whose awful Hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pine—
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget-lest we forget!

The tumult and the shouting dies-
The captains and the kings depart-
Still stands Thine ancient Sacrifice,

An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget-lest we forget!

Far-called our navies melt away-
On dune and headland sinks the fire-
Lo, all our pomp of yesterday

Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!
Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,
Lest we forget-lest we forget!

If, drunk with sight of power, we loose
Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe—
Such boasting as the Gentiles use

Or lesser breeds without the Law-
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget-lest we forget!

For heathen heart that puts her trust
In reeking tube and iron shard-
All valiant dust that builds on dust,

And guarding calls not Thee to guard-
For frantic boast and foolish word,
Thy Mercy on Thy People, Lord!

Amen. -Rudyard Kipling.

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