POETRY.
THE GREATEST OP THE CECILS. LIGHT as a dream, upon the velvet grass The rain of summer softly, softly falls ; Swift as a dream, the changing shadows pass
O'er Hatfield's reverend walls.
Yet little reek we of that fitful gloom, The untimely menace of these August skies ; Our thoughts are in the dark and silent room Where the great Cecil lies.
For of yon House three mighty statesmen came ; And this was last and mightiest of the three. Be very jealous, England, for their fame ; They gave their lives to thee The Councillor of bold Elizabeth, Who served her strong heart with his subtler brain Ere on our boisterous seas the north wind's breath Shattered the pride of Spain.
Then he who grasped the swerving helm of State, And half redeemed the Stuart's hateful rule, When first upon the throne of Alfred sate A coward and a fool.
And now, to-day, beside his open grave, Our Mother England mourns her faithful son, Of those three rulers, whom his lineage gave, The last and greatest one.
EDWARD SYDNEY TYLEE,
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