"Keep your life, calumniator!-worthless lives I freely spare: 66 " 'Mine you freely would have taken-murdered me and my good fame Both at once, and all the better! Go, and thank your own bad aim "Which permits me to forgive you!' What if, with such words as these, "He had cast away his weapon? How should I have borne me, please? "Nay, I'll spare you pains and tell you. This, and only this remained "Pick his weapon up and use it on himself. I so had gained Sleep the earlier, leaving England probably to pay on still "Rent and taxes for half India, tenant at the Frenchman's will." "Such the turn,' said I, 'the matter takes with you? "Then I abate "No, by not one jot or tittle,-of your act my estimate. "Fear-I wish I could detect there: courage fronts me, plain enough— "Call it desperation, madness-never mind! for here's in rough "Why, had mine been such a trial, fear had overcome disgrace, True, disgrace were hard to bear: but such a rush against God's face "-None of that for me, Lord Plassy, since I go to church at times, "Say the creed my Master taught me! foreign climes Many years in "Rubs some marks away—not all, though! We poor sinners reach life's brink, "Overlook what rolls beneath it, recklessly enough, but think There's advantage in what's left us-ground to stand on, time to call "Lord have mercy!' ere we topple over-do not leap, that's all!" "Oh, he made no answer, reabsorbed in his cloud. I caught "Something like 'Yes-courage: only fools will call it fear.' “If aught "Comfort you, my great unhappy hero Clive, in that I heard, "Next week, how your own hand dealt you doom, and uttered just the word "Fearfully courageous!'-this, be sure and nothing else. I groaned. "I'm no Clive, nor parson either: Clive's worst deed-we'll hope condoned." M.C. Banne THE WAY TO ARCADY. Oh, what's the way to Arcady, Oh, what's the way to Arcady? Oh, what's the way to Arcady? Sir Poet, with the rusty coat, Quit mocking of the song-bird's note! How have you heart for any tune, You with the wayworn russet shoon? Your scrip, a-swinging by your side, If you will tell the way to tread. Oh, I am bound for Arcady, And where away lies Arcady, And how long yet may the journey be? Ah, that (quoth he) I do not know— My guide is but the stir to song, That tells me I can not go wrong, But how shall I do who cannot sing? Remembrance back to the trick of rhyme. 'Tis strange you cannot sing (quoth he), The folk all sing in Arcady. But how may he find Arcady What, know you not, old man (quoth he)— Ah, woe is me through all my days, Wisdom and wealth I both have got, All things have come since then to me, Ah, then I fear we part (quoth he), My way's for Love and Arcady. But you, you fare alone, like me; The gray is likewise in your hair. What love have you to lead you there? To Arcady, to Arcady? Ah, no, not lonely do I fare; My true companion's Memory. |