To count the life of battle good, And dear the land that gave you birth, And dearer yet the brotherhood That binds the brave of all the earth My son, the oath is yours: the end Of the great fellowship you're free ; God send you fortune: yet be sure, Among the lights that gleam and pass, You'll live to follow none more pure Than that which glows on yonder brass: CLIFTON CHAPEL Qui procul hinc," the legend's writ The frontier-grave is far away Qui ante diem periit: Sed miles, sed pro patriâ.” 7 VITAÏ LAMPADA THERE'S a breathless hush in the Close to night Ten to make and the match to win A bumping pitch and a blinding light, coat, Or the selfish hope of a season's fame, But his Captain's hand on his shoulder smote 'Play up! play up! and play the game!" The sand of the desert is sodden red Red with the wreck of a square that broke ; The river of death has brimmed his banks, And England's far and Honour a name, But the voice of a schoolboy rallies the ranks : "Play up! play up! and play the game!' This is the word that year by year, And none that hears it dare forget. This they all, with a joyful mind, Bear through life like a torch in flame, And falling fling to the host behind "Play up! play up! and play the game!" 2 HE FELL AMONG THIEVES "YE have robbed," said he, "ye have slaughtered and made an end; Take your ill-got plunder, and bury the dead : What will ye more of your guest and sometime friend?" "Blood for our blood," they said. He laughed: "If one may settle the score for five I am ready; but let the reckoning stand till day : I have loved the sunlight as dearly as any alive." "You shall die at dawn," said they. ΙΟ |