17 AUGUST 1912, Page 18

"MULTAS PER GENTES."—CATIILLUS.

FROM roaming many a land and sea, Dear brother, all that's left of thee My vagrant footsteps seek; Thy ashes claim their latest due, But mute the voice I loved and knew,.

In vain I bid them speak !

By dastard Fortune's felon theft Of thee, my brother, all bereft.

Yet take, oh ! take, at custom's hest, These doleful offerings, to attest The grief I cannot tell; They're drenched with thy brother's tears.

So, through the eyerlasting yeRN

My brother fare-thee-well! H. F. B.