With the midnight came a change—that angry sea at length was cowed,
Its waves still broke upon us, but fell fainter and less loud;
When the 'pale face' of the dawn rose glimmering from his bed
The last black sullen wave swept off and bore away the dead.
That island all abloom with English youth, and fortified
With English valour, stood above the wild, retreating tide;
Those lads contemned Canute, and shamed the lesson that he read,—
For them the hungry waves withdrew, the howling ocean fled.
Britannia, rule, Britannia! while thy sons resemble thee,
And are islanders, true islanders, wherever they may be;
Island fortified like this, manned with islanders like these,
Will keep thee Lady of thy Land, and Sovereign of all Seas!
RELIEVED!
(AT MAFEKING.)
Said he of the relieving force,
As through the town he sped,
"Art thou in Baden-Powell's Horse?"
The trooper shook his head,
Then drew his hand his mouth across,
Like one who's lately fed.
"Alas! for Baden-Powell's horse—
It's now in me," he said.—Daily Express.
HOW SAM HODGE WON THE VICTORIA CROSS.
BY WILLIAM JEFFREY PROWSE.
Just a simple little story I've a fancy for inditing;
It shows the funny quarters in which chivalry may lodge,
A story about Africa, and Englishmen, and fighting,
And an unromantic hero by the name of Samuel Hodge.
"Samuel Hodge!" The words in question never previously filled a
Conspicuous place in fiction or the Chronicles of Fame;
And the Blood and Culture critics, or the Rosa and Matilda
School of Novelists would shudder at the mention of the name.