those who made our country possible. Of course no reader will fail to notice the famous last two lines of the first stanza. FABLE RALPH WALDO EMERSON The mountain and the squirrel Had a quarrel, And the former called the latter "Little Prig"; Bun replied, "You are doubtless very big; But all sorts of things and weather To make up a year And I think it no disgrace If I'm not so large as you, Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; 364 CONCORD HYMN RALPH WALDO EMERSON By the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, Here once the embattled farmers stood, And fired the shot heard round the world. The foe long since in silence slept; Alike the conqueror silent sleeps; And Time the ruined bridge has swept Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. On this green bank, by this soft stream, We set to-day a votive stone; That memory may their deed redeem, 365 Almost any of the works of Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832), whether in prose or verse, is within the range of children in the grades. Especially the fine ballads, such as "Lochinvar" and "Allen-a-Dale," are sure to interest them. Children should be encouraged to read one of the long story-poems, "The Lady of the Lake" or "The Lay of the Last Minstrel." The famous expression of patriotism quoted below is from the latter poem. BREATHES THERE THE MAN SIR WALTER SCOTT Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land! Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned From wandering on a foreign strand! If such there be, go, mark him well; For him no minstrel raptures swell; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim; Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentered all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust, from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonored, and unsung. 366 When Oliver Wendell Holmes (1809-1894) was twenty-one years old, he read that the Navy Department had decided to destroy the old, unseaworthy frigate "Constitution," which had become famous in the War of 1812. In one evening he wrote the poem "Old Ironsides." This not only made Holmes immediately famous as a poet, but so aroused the American people that the Navy Department changed its plans and rebuilt the ship. OLD IRONSIDES OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES Ay, tear her tattered ensign down! That banner in the sky; And burst the cannon's roar: The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more. Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, Where knelt the vanquished foe, No more shall feel the victor's tread, Oh, better that her shattered hulk Should sink beneath the wave; Set every threadbare sail, 367 William Collins (1721-1759), English poet, wrote only a few poems, but among them is this short dirge which keeps his name alive in popular memory. It was probably in honor of his countrymen who fell at Fontenoy in 1745, the year before its composition. Its austere brevity, its wellknown personifications, its freedom from fulsome expressions, place it very high among patriotic utterances. HOW SLEEP THE BRAVE How sleep the brave, who sink to rest Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung; By forms unseen their dirge is sung; There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there! 368 The anonymous ballad dealing with the familiar story of Nathan Hale, of Revolutionary times, is the nearest approach to the old folk ballad in our history. Its repetitions help it in catching something of the breathless suspense accompanying his daring effort, betrayal, and execution. The pathos of the closing incidents of Hale's career has attracted the tributes of poets and dramatists. Francis Miles Finch, author of "The Blue and the Gray," wrote a wellknown poetic account of Hale, while Clyde Fitch's drama of Nathan Hale had a great popular success. THE BALLAD OF The breezes went steadily through the tall pines, A-saying "Oh! hu-ush!" a-saying "Oh! hu-ush!" As stilly stole by a bold legion of horse, For Hale in the bush; for Hale in the bush. "Keep still!" said the thrush as she nestled her young, In a nest by the road; in a nest by the road. "For the tyrants are near, and with them appear What bodes us no good; what bodes us no good." But he trusted in love, from his Father above. In his heart, all was well; in his heart, all was well. An ominous owl, with his solemn bass voice, Sat moaning hard by; sat moaning hard by; The brave captain heard it, and thought "The tyrant's proud minions most gladly Cooling shades of the night were coming His errand from camp, of the ends to be The guards of the camp, on that dark, He prayed for his mother, he asked not "Thou pale King of terrors, thou life's gloomy foe, Go frighten the slave; go frighten the slave; Tell tyrants, to you their allegiance they owe. No fears for the brave; no fears for the brave." 369 That men of great courage are certain to recognize and pay tribute to courage in others, even if those others are their enemies, is the theme of "The Red Thread of Honor." Sir Francis Hastings Doyle (18101888) wrote two other stirring poems of action, "The Loss of the Birkenhead" and "The Private of the Buffs." THE RED THREAD OF HONOR FRANCIS HASTINGS DOYLE Eleven men of England A breastwork charged in vain; Eleven men of England Lie stripp'd, and gash'd, and slain. Slain; but of foes that guarded Their rock-built fortress well, Some twenty had been master'd, When the last soldier fell. The robber-chief mused deeply, Above those daring dead; "Bring here," at length he shouted, "Bring quick, the battle thread. Let Eblis blast forever Their souls, if Allah will: But we must keep unbroken The old rules of the Hill. "Before the Ghiznee tiger Leapt forth to burn and slay; Before the holy Prophet Taught our grim tribes to pray; Before Secunder's lances Pierced through each Indian glen; The mountain laws of honor Were framed for fearless men. "Still, when a chief dies bravely, We bind with green one wristGreen for the brave, for heroes One crimson thread we twist. Say ye, oh gallant Hillmen, For these, whose life has fled, Which is the fitting color, The green one, or the red?" "Our brethren, laid in honor'd graves, may wear Their green reward," each noble savage said; "To these, whom hawks and hungry wolves shall tear, Who dares deny the red?" Thus conquering hate, and steadfast to the right, Fresh from the heart that haughty ver dict came; Beneath a waning moon, each spectral height Rolled back its loud acclaim. Once more the chief gazed keenly From his good sword their heart's blood "These were not stirred by anger, "As, without sound or struggle, The stars unhurrying march, Where Allah's finger guides them, Through yonder purple arch, These Franks, sublimely silent, Without a quickened breath, Went, in the strength of duty, Straight to their goal of death. "If I were now to ask you, To name our bravest man, Ye all at once would answer, They call'd him Mehrab Khan. He sleeps among his fathers, Dear to our native land, With the bright mark he bled for Firm round his faithful hand. "The songs they sing of Roostum Have climbed, like these, the Hill?" And they replied, "Though Mehrab Khan was brave, As chief, he chose himself what risks to run; Prince Roostum lied, his forfeit life to save, Which these had never done." "Enough!" he shouted fiercely; "Doomed though they be to hell, May grudge such matchless men, Then all those gallant robbers They raised the slaughter'd sergeant, Left bleaching in the wind, That crimson thread was twined. 370 In the year 1897 a great diamond jubilee was held in England in honor of the completion of sixty years of rule by Queen Victoria. Many poems were written for the occasion, most of which praised the greatness of Britain, the extent of her dominion, the strength of her army and navy, and the abundance of her wealth. The "Recessional" was written for the occasion by Rudyard Kipling (1865-). It is in the form of a prayer, but its purpose was to tell the British that they were forgetting the "God of our fathers" and putting their trust in wealth and navies and the "reeking tube and iron shard" of the cannon. The poem rang through England like a bugle call and stirred the British people more deeply than any other poem of recent times. RECESSIONAL RUDYARD KIPLING God of our fathers, known of old- The tumult and the shouting dies- A humble and a contrite heart. Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget-lest we forget! Far-called our navies sink away On dune and headland sinks the fire |