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"Keep your life, calumniator!-worthless lives I freely spare:

66

"

'Mine you freely would have taken-murdered me and my

good fame

Both at once, and all the better! Go, and thank your own bad aim

"Which permits me to forgive you!' What if, with such words as these,

"He had cast away his weapon? How should I have borne me, please?

"Nay, I'll spare you pains and tell you. This, and only this remained

"Pick his weapon up and use it on himself. I so had gained

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Sleep the earlier, leaving England probably to pay on still

"Rent and taxes for half India, tenant at the Frenchman's will." "Such the turn,' said I, 'the matter takes with you?

"Then I abate

"No, by not one jot or tittle,-of your act my estimate. "Fear-I wish I could detect there: courage fronts me, plain enough—

"Call it desperation, madness-never mind! for here's in rough "Why, had mine been such a trial, fear had overcome disgrace,

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True, disgrace were hard to bear: but such a rush against God's face

"-None of that for me, Lord Plassy, since I go to church at

times,

"Say the creed my Master taught me!

foreign climes

Many years in

"Rubs some marks away—not all, though! We poor sinners

reach life's brink,

"Overlook what rolls beneath it, recklessly enough, but think

There's advantage in what's left us-ground to stand on,

time to call

"Lord have mercy!' ere we topple over-do not leap, that's

all!"

"Oh, he made no answer, reabsorbed in his cloud. I caught

"Something like 'Yes-courage: only fools will call it fear.'

“If aught

"Comfort you, my great unhappy hero Clive, in that I heard, "Next week, how your own hand dealt you doom, and uttered just the word

"Fearfully courageous!'-this, be sure and nothing else. I groaned.

"I'm no Clive, nor parson either: Clive's worst deed-we'll hope condoned."

M.C. Banne

THE WAY TO ARCADY.

Oh, what's the way to Arcady,
To Arcady, to Arcady;
Oh, what's the way to Arcady,
Where all the leaves are merry?

Oh, what's the way to Arcady?
The spring is rustling in the tree-
The tree the wind is blowing through→
It sets the blossoms flickering white.
I knew not skies could burn so blue,
Nor any breezes blow so light.
They blow an old-time way for me,
Across the world to Arcady.

Oh, what's the way to Arcady?

Sir Poet, with the rusty coat,

Quit mocking of the song-bird's note! How have you heart for any tune, You with the wayworn russet shoon?

Your scrip, a-swinging by your side,
Gapes with a gaunt mouth hungry-wide,
I'll brim it well with pieces red,

If you will tell the way to tread.

Oh, I am bound for Arcady,
And if you but keep pace with me
You tread the way to Arcady.

And where away lies Arcady,

And how long yet may the journey be?

Ah, that (quoth he) I do not know—
Across the clover and the snow-
Across the frost, across the flowers—
Through summer seconds and winter hours,
I've trod the way my whole life long,
And know not now where it may be ;

My guide is but the stir to song,

That tells me I can not go wrong,
Or clear or dark the pathway be
Upon the road to Arcady.

But how shall I do who cannot sing?
I was wont to sing, once on a time-
There is never an echo now to ring

Remembrance back to the trick of rhyme.

'Tis strange you cannot sing (quoth he), The folk all sing in Arcady.

But how may he find Arcady
Who hath nor youth nor melody?

What, know you not, old man (quoth he)—
Your hair is white, your face is wise—
That Love must kiss that mortal's eyes
Who hopes to see fair Arcady?
No gold can buy you entrance there;
But beggared Love may go all bare—
No wisdom won with weariness;
But Love goes in with Folly's dress-
No fame that wit could ever win ;
But only Love may lead Love in
To Arcady, to Arcady.

Ah, woe is me through all my days,

Wisdom and wealth I both have got,
And fame and name, and great men's praise;
But Love, ah, Love! I have it not.
There was a time, when life was new-
But far away, and half forgot-
I only know her eyes were blue;
But Love-I fear I knew it not.
We did not wed, for lack of gold,
And she is dead, and I am old.

All things have come since then to me,
Save Love, ah, Love! and Arcady.

Ah, then I fear we part (quoth he),

My way's for Love and Arcady.

But you, you fare alone, like me;

The gray is likewise in your hair.

What love have you to lead you there?

To Arcady, to Arcady?

Ah, no, not lonely do I fare;

My true companion's Memory.

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