"So, some time, when the last of all our evenings
Crowneth memorially the last of all our days,
Not loth to take his poppies, man goes down and says:
'Sufficient for the day were the day's evil things.'"
Free will, warring with fate, produces Tragedy, so it is said. To-day, we have lost much of the significance of the old "τραγωίδα." When the priest poets Tyrtæus and Æschylus clamorously exalted—held high that all might see—the Godhead of men who fight and do, it was not so much the tragedy itself, but the circumstances that made it which inspired men's hearts.
"Free will warring with Fate"—it was the clash of that fine battle, which those old Greeks found significant and uplifting.
For a moment let us look into this so seeming-piteous a one of ours, on which soon the iron curtain is resonantly to fall.
It is a hard, stern story this of our poor serf. The rebel lifted his hand against an established force. For that he perished in bitter agony. But, going so soon to his death, he shows us a Man in spite of all his woes. And we can be uplifted in contemplating that. It is Hyla's message to us no less than to his scarred brethren on the castle hill.
The Lord of Hilgay could maim and kill his body, but the Manhood in him was a flame unquenchable, and burnt a mark upon his age. The clash of his battle rings through centuries.