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His clotted locks he backward threw,
Across his brow his hand he drew,

From blood and mist1 to clear his sight,
Then gleamed aloft his dagger bright!
But hate and fury ill supplied

The stream of life's exhausted tide,
And all too late the advantage came,
To turn the odds of deadly game;
For, while the dagger gleamed on high,
Reeled soul and sense, reeled brain and eye.
Down came the blow! but in the heath
The erring2 blade found bloodless sheath.
The struggling foe may now unclasp
The fainting chief's relaxing grasp;
Unwounded from the dreadful close,
But breathless all, Fitz-James arose.

Scott's "Lady of the Lake," Canto v.

HOPE ON, HOPE EVER.

Hope on, hope ever! though to-day be dark,
The sweet sunburst may smile on thee to-morrow :
Though thou art lonely, there's an eye will mark

3

Thy loneliness, and guerdon 3 all thy sorrow! Though thou must toil 'mong cold and sordid men, With none to echo back thy thought, or love thee, Cheer up, poor heart! thou dost not beat in vain, For God is over all, and heaven above theeHope on, hope ever.

The iron may enter in and pierce thy soul,
But cannot kill the love within thee burning:

The tears of misery, thy bitter dole,"

Can never quench thy true heart's seraph yearning

'Mist. Roderick's eyes were becoming dim from his loss of blood.

2 Erring, wandering from the mark.

3 Guerdon, to reward. 4 Sordid, base, mean.

Dole, portion or share.

For better things: nor crush thy ardour's trust,
That error from the mind shall be uprooted,
That truths shall dawn as flowers spring from the dust,
And Love be cherished where Hate was embruted!'
Hope on, hope ever.

I know 'tis hard to bear the sneer and taunt,—
With the heart's honest pride at midnight wrestle;
To feel the killing canker-worm of want,

While rich rogues in their stolen luxury nestle;
For I have felt it. Yet from Earth's cold Real
My soul looks out on coming things, and cheerful
The warm sunrise floods all the land Ideal,
And still it whispers to the worn and tearful,
Hope on, hope ever.

Hope on, hope ever! after darkest night,

Comes, full of loving life, the laughing Morning ; Hope on, hope ever! Spring-tide, flushed with light, Aye crowns old Winter with her rich adorning. Hope on, hope ever! yet the time shall come When man to man shall be a friend and brother; And this old world shall be a happy home, And all Earth's family love one another! Hope on, hope ever.

Gerald Massey.

1 Embruted, made brutish or savage.

Butler & Tanner, The Selwood Printing Works, Frome, and London.

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