And keep for those who leave thee and find no better place,

The olden smile of welcome, the unchanged mother Sir Rennell Rodd.

face!

CVIII

ENGLAND AND HER COLONIES

SHE stands, a thousand wintered tree,
By countless morns impearled;
Her broad roots coil beneath the sea,
Her branches sweep the world;
Her seeds, by careless winds conveyed,
Clothe the remotest strand

With forests from her scatterings made,
New nations fostered in her shade,
And linking land with land.

O ye by wandering tempest sown
'Neath every alien star,

Forget not whence the breath was blown
That wafted you afar!

For ye are still her ancient seed
On younger soil let fall—

Children of Britain's island-breed,
To whom the Mother in her need

Perchance may one day call.

William Watson.

CIX

THE SONG OF THE BOW

WHAT of the bow?

The bow was made in England:

Of true wood, of yew-wood,
The wood of English bows;

So men who are free

Love the old yew-tree

And the land where the yew-tree grows.

What of the cord?

The cord was made in England:
A rough cord, a tough cord,
A cord that bow-men love;
And so we will sing

Of the hempen string

And the land where the cord was wove.

What of the shaft?

The shaft was cut in England:

A long shaft, a strong shaft,
Barbed and trim and true;

So we'll drink all together
To the grey goose-feather
And the land where the grey goose flew.

What of the mark?

Ah, seek it not in England,

A bold mark, our old mark,

Is waiting over-sea.

When the strings harp in chorus,
And the lion flag is o'er us,

It is there that our mark will be.

What of the men?

The men were bred in England; The bow-men-the yeomen,

The lads of dale and fell.

Here's to you-and to you!

To the hearts that are true

And the land where the true hearts dwell!

Arthur Conan Doyle.

CX

A BALLAD OF THE RANKS

WHO carries the gun?

A lad from over the Tweed.

Then let him go, for well we know
He comes of a soldier breed.

So drink together to rock and heather,
Out where the red deer run,
And stand aside for Scotland's pride-
The man who carries the gun!

For the Colonel rides before,
The Major's on the flank,
The Captains and the Adjutant
Are in the foremost rank.
But when it's 'Action front!'
And there's fighting to be done,
Come one, come all, you stand or fall
By the man who carries the gun.

Who carries the gun ?

A lad from a Yorkshire dale.
Then let him go, for well we know
The heart that never will fail.
Here's to the fire of Lancashire,
And here's to her soldier son!

For the hard-bit North has sent him forth-
The lad who carries the gun.

Who carries the gun?

A lad from a Midland shire. Then let him go, for well we know He comes of an English sire. Here's a glass to a Midland lass

And each can choose the one,

But East and West we claim the best
For the man who carries the gun.

Who carries the gun?

A lad from the hills of Wales.

Then let him go, for well we know

That Taffy is hard as nails.

There are several ll's in the place where he dwells, And of w's more than one,

With a 'Llan' and a 'pen,' but it breeds good men And it's they who carry the gun.

Who carries the gun ?

A lad from the windy West.

K

Then let him go, for well we know

That he is one of the best.

There's Bristol rough, and Gloucester tough,
And Devon yields to none.
Or you may get in Somerset
Your lad to carry the gun.
Who carries the gun?

A lad from London town.
Then let him go, for well we know

The stuff that never backs down.

He has learned to joke at the powder smoke,
For he is the fog-smoke's sun,

And his heart is light, and his pluck is right-
The man who carries the gun.

Who carries the gun?

A lad from the Emerald Isle. Then let him go, for well we know

We've tried him many a while.

We've tried him East, we've tried him West,

We've tried him sea and land,

But the man to beat old Erin's best

Has never yet been planned.

Who carries the gun?

It's you, and you, and you;

So let us go, and we won't say no

If they give us a job to do.

Here we stand with a cross-linked hand,

Comrades every one;

So one last cup, and drink it up

To the man who carries the gun?

For the Colonel rides before,

The Major's on the flank,
The Captains and the Adjutant
Are in the foremost rank.
And when it's 'Action front!'
And there's fighting to be done,
Come one, come all, you stand or fall
By the man who carries the gun.

Arthur Conan Doyle.

CXI

OUR DEAD

SYE, do yer 'ear thet bugle callin'

Sutthink stringe through the city's din? Do yer shut yer eyes when the evenin''s fallin', An' see quite plain wheer they're fallin' in? An' theer ain't no sarnd as they falls in,

An' they mawch quick step with a silent tread
Through all ar 'earts, through all ar 'earts,
The Comp'ny of ar Dead.

A woman's son, and a woman's lover-
Yer'd think as nobody 'eld 'im dear,
As 'e stands, a clear mawk, art o' cover,

An' leads the rush when the end is near;
One more ridge and the end is near,
One more step an' the bullet's sped.
My God, but they're well-officered,
The Comp'ny of ar Dead!

Never they'll 'ear the crard a-cheerin',
These 'ull never come beck agine;

Theer welkim 'ome is beyond our 'earin',

But theer nimes is writ, an' theer nimes remine, An' deep an' lawstin' theer nimes remine

Writ in theer blood for theer country shed; An' they stan's up strite an' they knows no shime, The Comp'ny of ar Dead.

Barry Pain.

CXII

ADMIRALS ALL

A SONG OF SEA KINGS

EFFINGHAM, Grenville, Raleigh, Drake,
Here's to the bold and free!

Benbow, Collingwood, Byron, Blake,
Hail to the Kings of the sea!