POETRY.
PEACE, WITH HONOUR.
WREN we in riches have reposed our trust, And said to Peace, " 'Tis, that we love thee well," Peace hath replied, "Your honour lies in dust ; How can ye love me who with honour dwell I Who loveth life too fondly, lose it must ; Who spurneth life for honour shall discover How, while his riches crumble, and are rust, True life remaineth to the fond true lover."
Peace, we have learnt thy lesson. Mighty power, To whom, divinely born, it doth belong Neither to do, nor yet to suffer, wrong, Now, glorious Freedom, speak, ' Oh, in this hour, When earth distressful groans with war's increase, Say, Ocean-mistress, " England is for peace."' Thou hest a voice now, England. Thou canst speak, No longer hushed as one of war afraid : Thou halt no need of tremors, like a maid Who knows her treasure vast, her beauty weak.
Lo ! There is Peace. See, how she helpless stands The new Iphigenia ! Wolvish eyes Glare at her, burning for her sacrifice, To loose through blood their blood-embattled hands.
Go, mighty voice, plead for her ! Through all lands Pure is thy name : the omnipresent Sea, With all its freedom-loving waters glad, Once at thy bidding set the prisoners free: So, with invulnerable armour clad, Plead now for Peace ! All heaven shall plead with thee.
A. G. B.
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