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[BORN in 1821, son of Mr. E. H. Locker, a civil commissioner of Greenwich Hospital, and founder of the Naval Gallery there. Mr. Locker has contributed reviews to the Times, and verses to the Times, Blackwood, the Cornhill, and Punch, which have been collected in a volume called London Lyrics. His Poems have also been recently published in this country.]

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MATTHEW ARNOLD.

1822-1888.

[ELDEST Son of the late Rev. Thos. Arnold, D.D., head-master of Rugby, born Dec. 24, 1822, at Laleham, Middlesex Co. Educated at Winchester, Rugby, and Baliol College, Oxford; graduated in 1844, and was elected a Fellow of Oriel College in 1845. Secretary to Lord Lansdowne from 1847 to 1851, when he was appointed one of the Lay Inspectors of Schools, under the Committee of Council on Education, a post which he still holds. In 1854 he published a volume of Poems under his own name, his previous volumes in 1848 and 1853 having been published without the name of the author. Elected Professor of Poetry at Oxford in 1857, which office he held till 1867. He has published several volumes of Poems and Essays, which are highly esteemed. "The strain of his mind," says an anonymous critic, is calm and thoughtful; his style is the reverse of florid; deep culture, and a certain severity of taste have subdued every tendency to gay or passionate exuberance."]

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They out-talk'd thee, hiss'd thee, tore | Charge once more, then, and be dumb!

thee?

Better men fared thus before thee;
Fired their ringing shot and pass'd,
Hotly charged and sank at last.

Let the victors, when they come,
When the forts of folly fall,
Find thy body by the wall!

SYDNEY DOBELL.

1824-1874.

[SYDNEY DOBELL was born at Cranbrook in Kent in 1824, was educated at home, and for the greater part of his life was engaged in business in Gloucestershire. His first published poem, The Reman, inspired by his life-long enthusiasm for the Italian cause, appeared in 1850; his next, Balder, was finished in 1853. In 1855 he wrote in conjunction with Alexander Smith a series of sonnets, suggested by the Crimean struggle. This volume was followed by another, of descriptive and lyrical verses, on the same theme, England in Time of War. Subsequently his health gave way, and after living for several years, the winters of which he passed abroad, more or less in the condition of an invalid, he died at Barton End House near Nailsworth, in 1874. A complete edition of his poems was published in 1875.1

TOMMY'S DEAD.

You may give over plough, boys,
You may take the gear to the stead;
All the sweat o' your brow, boys,
Will never get beer and bread.
The seed's waste, I know, boys;
There's not a blade will grow, boys;
'Tis cropped out, I trow, boys,
And Tommy's dead.

Send the colt to the fair, boys-
He's going blind, as I said,
My old eyes can't bear, boys,
To see him in the shed;
The cow's dry and spare, boys,
She's neither here nor there, boys,
I doubt she's badly bred;
Stop the mill to-morn, boys,
There'll be no more corn, boys,
Neither white nor red;

There's no sign of grass, boys,

Move my chair on the floor, boys,

Let me turn my head:

She's standing there in the door, boys,
Your sister Winifred!

Take her away from me, boys,

Your sister Winifred!

Move me round in my place, boys,
Let me turn my head,

Take her away from me, boys,
As she lay on her death-bed-
The bones of her thin face, boys,
As she lay on her death-bed!
I don't know how it be, boys,
When all's done and said,
But I see her looking at me,
Wherever I turn my head;
Out of the big oak-tree, boys,
Out of the garden-bed,

boys,

And the lily as pale as she, boys,
And the rose that used to be red.

You may sell the goat and the ass, boys, There's something not right, boys,

The land's not what it was, boys,

And the beasts must be fed:
You may turn Peg away, boys,
You may pay off old Ned,
We've had a dull day, boys,
And Tommy's dead.

But I think it's not in my head;

I've kept my precious sight, boys —
The Lord be hallowed.

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