26 APRIL 1902, Page 34

POETRY.

THE LAST RIDE.

PROUDLY, the Roman legend saith, The warrior Curtius rode to death, And spurred into the abyss abhorred With glittering mail and flashing sword.

For thee, 0 soul of mine, to-day As then, a chasm bars the way, And soon or late thy trembling steed Upon its brink must check his speed.

But thou, array thee in thy best, Thy coat of proof, thy gallant crest.

Whisper a word into his ear, Then leap to death with smiling cheer.

B. PAUL NEUMAN.