He sleeps among his fathers,

Dear to our native land,

With the bright mark he bled for

Firm round his faithful hand.

66

The songs they sing of Roostum

Fill all the past with light;

If truth be in their music,

He was a noble knight.

But were these heroes living,

And strong for battle still,

Would Mehrab Khan, or Roostum,

Have climbed, like these, the Hill?"

And they replied: "Though Mehrab Khan was brave,

As chief, he chose himself what risks to run;
Prince Roostum lied,1 his forfeit life to save,

Which these had never done."

66

Enough," he shouted fiercely,

"Doomed though they be to Hell,

Bind fast the crimson trophy

Round BOTH wrists

bind it well.

1 Roostum, overcome in the first instance, escaped death by imposing upon the simple good faith of his son Sohrab, whom he afterwards killed (ignorantly, of course).

"Who knows but that great Allah
May grudge such matchless men,
With none so decked in heaven,
To the fiends' flaming den?"

Then all those gallant robbers
Shouted a stern Amen!

They raised the slaughtered sergeant,

They raised his mangled ten.

And when we found their bodies,

Left bleaching in the wind,

Around both wrists in glory

That crimson thread was twined.

Then Napier's knightly heart, touched to the core,
Rang, like an echo, to that knightly deed;
He bade its memory live for evermore,

That those who run may read.

SIR FRANCIS HASTINGS DOYLE.

GEORGE NIDIVER.

MEN have done brave deeds,

And bards have sung them well;

I of good George Nidiver

Now the tale will tell.

In Californian mountains
A hunter bold was he;
Keen his eye and sure his aim
As any you should see.

A little Indian boy

Followed him everywhere, Eager to share the hunter's joy, The hunter's meal to share.

And when the bird or deer

Fell by the hunter's skill,

The boy was always near

To help with right good-will.

One day as through the cleft.
Between two mountains steep,
Shut in both right and left,
Their questing way they keep,

They see two grizzly bears,

With hunger fierce and fell,

Rush at them unawares,

Right down the narrow dell.

The boy turned round with screams,
And ran with terror wild;
One of the pair of savage beasts
Pursued the shrieking child.

The hunter raised his gun,

He knew one charge was all, And through the boy's pursuing foe He sent his only ball.

The other on George Nidiver

Came on with dreadful pace;

The hunter stood unarmed,

And met him face to face.

I say unarmed he stood:

Against those frightful paws The rifle-butt, or club of wood,

Could stand no more than straws.

George Nidiver stood still,

And looked him in the face;
The wild beast stopped amazed,
Then came with slackening pace.

Still firm the hunter stood,

Although his heart beat high; Again the creature stopped,

And gazed with wondering eye.

The hunter met his gaze,

Nor yet an inch gave way; The bear turned slowly round, And slowly moved away.

What thoughts were in his mind
It would be hard to spell ;
What thoughts were in George Nidiver
I rather guess than tell.

But sure that rifle's aim,

Swift choice of generous part,

Showed in its passing gleam

The depths of a brave heart.

ANONYMOUS.

Edward Lear