Ailsa Paige: A Novel

Produced by Al Haines
It is at best but a mixture of a little good with much evil and a little pleasure with much pain; the beautiful is linked with the revolting, the trivial with the solemn, bathos with pathos, the commonplace with the sublime.
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY NEW YORK AND LONDON 1910
Copyright, 1910, by The Curtis Publishing Company
Published August, 1910
Arm yourselves and be Valiant Men, and see that ye rise up in readiness against the Dawn, that ye may do Battle with These that are Assembled against us. . . .
For it is better to die in Battle than live to behold the Calamities of our own People. . . .
Lord, we took not the Land into Possession by our own Swords; neither was it our own Hands that helped us; but Thy Hand was a Buckler; and Thy right Arm a Shield, and the Light of Thy Countenance hath conquered forever.
We are the fallen, who, with helpless faces Low in the dust, in stiffening ruin lay, Felt the hoofs beat, and heard the rattling traces As o'er us drove the chariots of the fray.
We are the fallen, who by ramparts gory, Awaiting death, heard the far shouts begin, And with our last glance glimpsed the victor's glory For which we died, but dying might not win.
We were but men. Always our eyes were holden, We could not read the dark that walled us round, Nor deem our futile plans with Thine enfolden— We fought, not knowing God was on the ground.
Aye, grant our ears to bear the foolish praising Of men—old voices of our lost home-land, Or else, the gateways of this dim world, raising, Give us our swords again, and hold Thy hand.