Part 33 (1/2)

”A miracle!--a , doubtless,” said Thomas de Vaux

”That I should lose my learned Hakim,” said Richard, ”merely by absence of his cap and robe, and that I should find hiain in my royal brother Saladin!”

”Such is oft the fashi+on of the world,” answered the Soldan: ”the tattered robe makes not always the dervish”

SCOTT: ”The Talisman”

ENGLAND'S DEAD

Son of the Ocean Isle!

Where sleep your h and stately pile Is reared o'er Glory's bed

Go, stranger! track the deep-- Free, free, the white sail spread!

Wave land's dead

On Egypt's burning plains, By the pyrans, And the palry sun From heaven look fiercely red, Unfelt by those whose task is done!-- There slu the Indian shore, And far by Ganges' banks at night, Is heard the tiger's roar;--

But let the sound roll on!

It hath no tone of dread For those that froland's dead

Loud rush the torrent-floods The Western wilds areen Colu;--

But let the floods rush on!

Let the arrow's flight be sped!

Why should they reck whose task is done?-- There sluh In the snowy Pyrenees, And toss the pine-boughs through the sky Like rose-leaves on the breeze;--

But let the store on!

Let the fresh wreaths be shed!

For the Roncesvalles' field is won,-- There sluland's dead

On the frozen deep's repose 'Tis a dark and dreadful hour, When round the shi+p the ice-fields close, And the northern night-clouds lower;--

But let the ice drift on!

Let the cold-blue desert spread!