THE PANAMA TREATY.

[To THE EDITOR OF THE "SPECTATOR."] SIR,—You may be glad to find space for the subjoined poem. which appeared in the New York Times and was reprinted in Unity (Chicago) on December 12th, 1912.—I am, Sir, &c.

DIRGE On Hearing of the Violation of the Panama Treaty.

Now toll the bell, The slow and fatal bell, Let hill and valley hear the lingering knell, As for every son of Fame At whose death the land stood still, As tho' there were no greater ill.

Gathered all the tears for such Into one fount of sorrow, not too much It were for this one, murdered in immortal shame!

The trembling struggle now is o'er, Ended the hope and dread; The greatest of our greatest is no more: Honour is dead I Now drape with black, Darken the day With solemn and insistent black, Till Night herself the speech of grief shall seem to lack.

Since Honour was the pillar of the State, Let every public shaft the general mourning mate. Drape the white beacon of the Capitol

That thrilled us from afar—

Our faith, our aegis, and our star; Let black encompass it from hall to hall, Nor spare the storied wall Whence Webster's voice to duty made its mighty call.

Drape the White Mansion where, another desperate day, Our stainless Lincoln lay.

(It looked so white but yesterday!) Nor spare the tower whose crest, when day is done, Above the glooming night Holds glowing in the light The thought of Washington.

Thank God these died before Men to each other said : "The greatest of our greatest is no more: Honour is dead."

Ay, speak the unwelcome word, Droop the shamed head, but speak! When Sages' sight is blurred The silent are the weak.

What tho' the dagger plead no dire intent, Loud is the land's lament : Our best is slain, slain, slain!

Not by a hand insane, As thrice the deed was done ; Not by a foreign foe The hideous and surpassing blow;

But by sworn guardians of the people's trust—

All parties for the moment merged in one, Since 'twits too great a crime for faction's single thrust. Cesar at Pompey's feet deserved his fate But not our candid State.

That had begun to teach the world a new way to be great.

O ye that blindly struck and ye that led, Hark to the land's lament from shore to shore: "The greatest of our greatest is no more : Honour is dead."

ROBERT UNDERWOOD JOHNSON.