Part 3

So he, with a clear shout of laughter, HYPNOS ON IDA, 230

They then to fountain-abundant Ida, mother of wild beasts, CLASH IN ARMS OF THE ACHAIANS AND TROJANS, 231

Not the sea-wave so bellows abroad when it bursts upon shingle, THE HORSES OF ACHILLES, 232

So now the horses of Aiakides, off wide of the war-ground, THE MARES OF THE CAMARGUE, 234

A hundred mares, all white! their manes ‘ATKINS’, 236

Yonder’s the man with his life in his hand, THE VOYAGE OF THE ‘OPHIR’, 237

Men of our race, we send you one THE CRISIS, 239

Spirit of Russia, now has come OCTOBER 21, 1905, 241

The hundred years have passed, and he THE CENTENARY OF GARIBALDI, 243

We who have seen Italia in the throes, THE WILD ROSE, 245

High climbs June’s wild rose, THE CALL, 247

Under what spell are we debased ON COMO, 250

A rainless darkness drew o’er the lake MILTON, 251

What splendour of imperial station man, IRELAND, 253

Fire in her ashes Ireland feels THE YEARS HAD WORN THEIR SEASONS’ BELT, 255

The years had worn their seasons’ belt, FRAGMENTS, 257

Open horizons round,

A wilding little stubble flower

From labours through the night, outworn,

This love of nature, that allures to take IL Y A CENT ANS, 259

That march of the funereal Past behold; YOUTH IN AGE, 261

Once I was part of the music I heard Epitaphs TO A FRIEND LOST, 265

When I remember, friend, whom lost I call, M. M., 265

Who call her Mother and who calls her Wife THE LADY C. M., 266

To them that knew her, there is vital flame ON THE TOMBSTONE OF JAMES CHRISTOPHER WILSON, 266

Thou our beloved and light of Earth hast crossed GORDON OF KHARTOUM, 266

Of men he would have raised to light he fell: J. C. M., 267

A fountain of our sweetest, quick to spring THE EMPEROR FREDERICK OF OUR TIME, 267