THRENODY.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1106, 12 May 1893, Page 26

THRENODY.

w IN MEMORY OF THE LATE HON. JO )N BALLANCE. 'Cowards and l4ggards fall back; bot, alert to the saddle, Straight, grim, and abreast, vapi/t the weather wobn gallopjngjiegion, '- What odds? we are men; and oob sodxs aee but best on the biding ! ' x ' we spur to a land of no name, outracing the stormwind ; We leap to the infinite dark, like the sparks from the anvil ; Thou leadest, 0 God ! All's well with thy troopers that follow, 1' —The Wild Ride. 'He PRATETH BEST WHO LOVETH BEOT.'-i Coleridge. Sons of the morning! Sons of the sleepless Light, On whose heart's altars Liberty is shrined— Swift from your ranks a Soul has winged its flight! Behold! the mortal shell to earth resigned! Familiar Spirits of your dear lost Chief, With friendly tear, Draw near—draw near, The unconscious ashes claiming here your griefNature's soft tribute pay Unto this resting clay! Here, sife from Life's alarms, cradled in old Earth's arms. Who knows? dumb lips may pray More eloquently than the living voice, Breathing its tender benedictiou here? And the enfranchised Spirit mt;y rejoice As friend and alien shed the mutual tear. A Nation's hopes were centred iu this dust! Sons of the Right, The torch of Light His failing hand surrendered to your trust! Now with muffled bell and drums, Bravely to his rest he comes, Happily sleeping—in God's strong keepingOne of Nature's truest sons! -■','■' Whose hand would still the beating pulse of Time ? Not yours—O, tender Mourner, whose hurtheart Only the balm of years can medicine, Hope! His Life's radiance may not all depart ? In their chief's footsteps shall his strong sons tread ; His Shamrock dear Gem with a tear, ' For noble spirits war not with the dead !' Toll! Christ's priests, toll! Roll! Death-drums—roll! With invisible sword, the hand of the Lord Guards now the soul. E. E. MONTGOMERY. Wanganui,