More precious traits he kept, beyond their reach, Shy traits that rougher world had scared aloof. Him early prophet souls of Oriel ཎྞན ན ན A boy companion to their converse drew, And yet his thought was free, and pondered well All sides of truth, and gave to each its due. O pure wise heart, and guileless as a child! In thee, all jarring discords reconciled, Knowledge and reverence undivided grew. Ah me! we dreamed it had been his to lead The world by power of deeply-pondered books, And lure a rash and hasty age to heedi Old truths set forth with fresh and winsome looks; But he those heights forsook for the low vale And sober shades, where dwells misfortune pale, And sorrow pines in unremembered nooks. Where'er a lone one lay and had no friend, No grief to solace, but his heart was free; And then his years of pastoral service done, And his long suffering meekly borne, he won A grave of peace by England's southern sea. More than all arguments in deep books stored, Than any preacher's penetrative tone, More than all music by rapt poet poured,' To have seen thy life, thy converse to have known,' Was witness for thy Lord that thus to be Humble, and true, and loving like to thee— This was worth living for, and this alone. 1 Fair-haired and tall, slim, but of stately Inheritor of a high poetic name, Another,1 in the bright bloom of nineteen, Fresh from the pleasant fields of Eton came : Whate'er of beautiful or poet sung, " Or statesman uttered, round his memory clung; Before him shone resplendent heights of fame. With friends around the board, no wit so fine To wing the jest, the sparkling tale to tell; 1 J. D. Coleridge, later Lord Coleridge. Yet oft-times listening in St. Mary's shrine, Profounder moods upon his spirit fell : We heard him then, England has heard him since, Uphold the fallen, make the guilty wince, And the hushed Senate have confessed the spell... There too was one,1 broad-browed, with open face, [pride And fame for toil compacted-him with A school of Devon from a rural place Had sent to stand these chosen ones be side; From childhood trained all hardness to endure, To love the things that noble are, and pure, And think and do the truth, whate'er betide. With strength for labour, as the strength of ten," To ceaseless toil he girt him night and day; A native king and ruler among men, Ploughman or Premier, born to bear true sway; Small or great duty never known to shirk, He bounded joyously to sternest work, Less buoyant others turn to sport and J play. 1 F. Temple (Archbishop of Canterbury). Comes brightly back one day he had performed Within the Schools some more than looked-for feat, And friends and brother scholars round him swarmed To give the day to gladness that was meet : Forth to the young no the fields we fared, among Green leaves and grass, his laugh the loudest rung ; Beyond the rest his bound flew far and fleet. } All afternoon o'er Shotover's breezy heath, We ranged, through bush and brake in The vernal dream-lights o'er the plains beneath Trailed, overhead the skylarks carolling; Then home through evening-shadowed fields we went, And filled our College rooms with merriment, Pure joys, whose memory contains no sting. Ah me, with what delightsome memories blend "Thy pale calm face, thy strangely soothing smile" What hours come back, when pacing College walks,'' New knowledge dawned on us, or friendly talks, Inserted, long night labours would beguile. What strolls through meadows mown of fragrant hay, On summer evenings by smooth Cherwell stream, When Homer's song, or chaunt from Shel Or how, on calm of Sunday afternoon, Keble's low sweet voice to devout commune, And heavenward musings, would the hours redeem. But when on crimson creeper o'er the wall Autumn his finger beautifully impressed, And came, the third time, at October's call, Cheerily trooping to their rooms the rest, Filling them with glad greetings and young glee, 4 His room alone was empty-henceforth we By his sweet fellowship no more were blest. |