POETRY.

VICTORIA DAY.

(VERSES SUGGESTED BY THE LATE QUEEN'S BIRTHDAY.)

Now that the Queen is dead, have we aught that is worthy to live for—

We who were proud of her reign, wholly in love with her life ?—

Have we not bow'd our heads in intense and personal sorrow, Such as a son might feel, losing a mother beloved,

When we beheld her death, and the wonderful march of her mourners Over the sea and the land, watoh'd by a nation in tears? Aye, and the Century, too, by her made brighter than others, Not by her triumphs alone, but by the light of her love, That, too, is gone to the grave, and we are not the men to appraise it, Being a part of itself—motes in its brilliant career.

Much have we boasted and long, of its marvellous growth, of its glory—

Freedom of thought and of act, more than our fathers had known;

But, as we stand bereaved on the dark deep verge of another,

Knowing no more than a child what is its course or its end, Were it not well to pause, to think if the imminent Future Should be against us now, plucking us down in our pride. Turning to other lands the fruits of our many inventions, Giving, for Order and Law, Licence, the curse of the free ? So had the Romans thought, in the golden days of Augustus, Had they but guess'd their fate, link'd with the life of a man, Link'd with the dismal defeat, the fatal folly of Varus, Link'd with the sins and the shame rampant and ruddy at Rome.

Well, let it be—for at least we are still in the path of our duty, Doing the dull day's work bravely and calmly and well ; Not with a cruel contempt, nor with aught of masterful passion, Striving to build fair peace out of the ruins of war.

Ah, and the thing that we do, 'tis She would have wish'd us to do it—

Giving to friends and foes all we have won for ourselves : Liberty, justice, wealth; the arts and the trade of the white man ; Mercy and truth to the black ; quiet abundance for all. That is our lesson of life, and that is the bond of our Empire : She who is gone knew well how to enforce it alone ; Shedding her goodness around, till the grace and charm of the woman Touch'd with a tenderer note all that is felt for a Queen.

Thus, then, graver indeed and sad, yet alway rejoicing, We of the older time tranquilly enter the new : Steadfast, hopefully arm'd with the might of a noble example ; Nerved by a strenuous Past not to be less than our fame. For there is fame to be won, and kept as a standard of action, Now that the whole world sees what is the worth of our kin : How from the North and the South, from the snows of distant Acadia, And from the Southern Cross, and from the isles of the sea, Nations born of our loins, alert and athietic as we are, Spring to our side at a word, welcome and willing allies, Eager to claim their share in the toils and the peril of England, True to their ancient home, fraught with the spirit of sons.

Sure 'tie a vision of peace—not vain, not wildly prophetic, But to the sober sense present and stable and clear—

Which in those children of ours, in them and their many descendants, Circling the parent land, centre and pivot of all, Sees a Republic of States, a vast irresistible unit, Spreading our Britain abroad, moulding the face of the world, Till from the Channel at hand to the shores of uttermost ocean Thrills the great English tongue, wider than Latin of old. That is a Future indeed, an heritage worthy to live for : More than the wisest know, more than the infant of days, Fondling his mother's breast, may hope to behold as an elder, When in those far-off years, fuller of good than our own, Still shall be honour'd and sung, with the glow of a grateful emotion, All that Victoria did, all that we owe to the Quieen.

ARTHUR 3117NBY.