‘Recordare Jesu pie,
Quod sum causa Tuae viae,
Ne me perdas illâ die!’
There was no more. They moved out into the centre-aisle.
‘‘That you?’ the Lady called as she shut the lid. ‘I thought I heard you, and I played it on purpose.’
‘Thank you awfully,’ said Dan. ‘We hoped you would, so we waited. Come on, Una, it’s pretty nearly dinner-time.’
SONG OF THE RED WAR-BOAT
Shove off from the wharf-edge! Steady!
Watch for a smooth! Give way!
If she feels the lop already
She’ll stand on her head in the bay.
It’s ebb—it’s dusk—it’s blowing,
The shoals are a mile of white,
But (snatch her along!) we’re going
To find our master to-night.
For we hold that in all disaster
Of shipwreck, storm, or sword,
A man must stand by his master
When once he has pledged his word!
Raging seas have we rowed in,
But we seldom saw them thus;
Our master is angry with Odin—
Odin is angry with us!
Heavy odds have we taken,
But never before such odds.
The Gods know they are forsaken,
We must risk the wrath of the Gods!