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VILKED

BAS

BOEN?

OLHERD

2

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I HATE the dreadful hollow behind the little wood, Maud Its lips in the field above are dabbled with ol blood-red heath, egbe tinde sa T The red-ribb'd ledges drip with a silent horror

of blood,

And Echo there, whatever is ask'd her, answers 'Death.'

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For there in the ghastly pit long since a body
was found,
His who had given me life-O father 1 : 0
God! was it well?-

Mangled, and flatten'd, and crush'd, and dinted
into the ground:

There yet lies the rock that fell with him when he fell.

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Did he fling himself down? who
who knows? for a

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vast speculation had fail'd,

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Maud And ever he mutter'd and madden'd, and ever wann'd with despair,

And out he walk'd when the wind like a broken worldling wail'd,

And the flying gold of the ruin'd woodlands 2 drove thro' the airo GMA GUAM IA

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I remember the time, for the roots of my hair were stirr'd

By a shuffled step, by a dead weight trail'd, by a whisper'd fright,

bore to And my pulses closed their gates with a shock raw on my heart as I heard

The shrill-edged shriek of a mother divide the

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But that old man, now lord of the broad estate and the Hall,

Dropt off gorged from a scheme that had left

us flaccid and drain'd.

barung sdt omi gadw mid diw Hot jedt door sit esil Joy 9:

6

Why do they prate of the blessings of Peace?
So we have made them

a

curse,

Pickpockets, each hand lusting for all that is

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And lust of gain, in the spirit of Cain, is it Maud better or worse

Than the heart of the citizen hissing in war on his own hearthstone?

sul la floy sit of egin sand-ed ydä st: MIT 7 sthy bolqar

But these are the days of advance, the works of the men of mind,

When who but a fool would have faith in a tradesman's ware or his word?

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Sooner or later I too may passively take the print
Of the golden age-why not? I have neither
hope nor trust;

May make
my heart as a millstone, set my face
as a flint,

Cheat and be cheated, and die: who knows?
we are ashes and dust.

9

Peace sitting under her olive, and slurring the
days gone by,

When the poor are hovell'd and hustled to-
gether, each sex, like swine.chatbildo
When only the ledger lives, and when only not
all men lie;
Peace in her vineyard-yes!but a company
forges the wine.

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Mauda ti ai nisoƆ to tiniga sd dining to saul baA

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Andrs the vitriol madness flushes ups in the
ruffian's head, { snoterined awo aid
Till the filthy by-lane rings to the yell of the
trampled wife,

And chalk, and alum and plaster are sold to the
poor for bread,

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And the spirit of murder works in the very

means of life,

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And Sleep must lie down arm'd, for the villain

ous centre-bits

Grind on
moonless nights,

on the wakeful ear in the hush of the
ang yser oof I total to 190600

While another is cheating the sick of a few last Jewit 300 equit gasps, as he sits

To pestle a poison'd poison behind his crimson

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a burial fee, And Timour-Mammon grins on a pile of children's bones,odu za dons roding Is it peace or war? better, war! loud war by land and by sea,

Ward

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with: anthousand battles, and shaking a hundred thrones.

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