AT THE SIGN OF THE LYRE.

New Zealand Times, Volume LXVII, Issue 3439, 21 May 1898, Page 1 (Supplement)

AT THE SIGN OF THE LYRE.

SELECTED VERSE. THE SONG OP THE DRUM. Do you bear ray summons hammer thro’ the crackle and the clamour. Do you Lei my throb and thrill ? When X meet the smell of powder, oh, my merry note grows louder. And my song shall not be still. Follow, each beside hia fellow, ’neath the vapours eray and yellow, Wildly cheering, sternly dumb. And rumble, rumble, rumble, when the smokewreaths toss and tumble, You shall hear the rolling drum. Follow the drum Men forget their fears and follies as they face the blinding volleys, And the young recruits they come, With their simple sunburnt faces, from the quiet country places, To the call of me, the drum. Come, ploughboy lad and carter, and your life-blood freely barter For the bullet sure for some, And rattle, rattle, rattle, through the din and roar of battle, You shall hear the rolling drum. Follow the drum !

When the boys that follow fast there, drop aside and fall at last there, From the surging lines of red. Then no more of pomp and ruffle; my notes awhile I muffle, And I moan and mourn the dead. But the losing battle needs me, and the whistling bullet speeds me ; Through the reeling ranks I come, And clatter, clatter, where the broken regiments scatter, You shall hear the rolling drum. Follow the drum I —Pall Mall Gazette. THE VIOLET. [Bt Margaret B. Sangster.] Hers she is again, the dear, Sweetest vestal of the year, In her little purple hood Brightening the lonesome wood. We who, something worn with o»re, Take the road, find unaware Joy that heartens, hope that thrills, Love our cup of life that fills, Since in Spring’s remembered nooks, Lifting fain familiar looks, Once again with curtsying grace, In the same dear lowly p'ace, ' God His manual sign hath set In the tender violet. —Harper’s. THE DIALECT NOVELIST. He wachelt and hachelt He schughelt and eauchelt With many a hech and a botch, He scartit and rakit His memory and scapit A story he said was braid Scotch. Ha rowled and he sowled, ‘ln a style ould and bou'd, With a lot of beeorrah and wail; He be jabbered and gabhered And paper he glabbered, When fee wrote his miscalled Irish talc. He hum’d and begum’d. > He swow’d, and swan’d and vum d. And begoshed about keows and the barn ; He chawed and he hawed As his poor pen he pawed, While writing a fake Yankee yarn. He ’atn’d and he begged, As he ’ammered and dragged His h’s and i’s in the strife. Between ’alf and ’alf coster And unabridged Webster In a novel of English life. — llaierhur!/ Globe. OPPORTUNITY. [John D. Underwood.] Monarch of every human being, I. Destiny shapes itself beneath my hand. I rule ambitions lofty as the sky ; X pave the way for crime’s debasing brand. I’m king of battles and I’m god of love I govern all below and all above. And once I come to every one of ye— That hour your hope is lost or fortune’s made. Act bravely, promptly, for the way is free; And woe to him who hesitates, afraid ! X hold in one hand, honor, love and place ; And in the other want, hate and disgrace ; So when X come, then may your eyes see plain, For slighted once, I never come again. —Boston Transcript.

OVER THE HILLS AND FAB AWAY.

fßr Eugene Field.] Over the hills and far away, A little boy steals from his morning play. And under the blossoming apple tree He lies and dreams of things to be ; Of battles fought and of victories won. Of wrongs overthrown and of great deeds done Of the valor that he shall prove some day Oyer the hills and fat away— Over the bills and far away !

Over the hills and far away, It’s oh for the toil the livelong day ! But it mattereth not to the seal aflame With the love for riches and power and fame On, O man ; while the sun is high; On to the certain joys that lie Yonder where blazeth the noon of day, Over the hills and far away 1

Over the bills and far away, An old man lingers at close of day; Now that his jonmey is almost done. His battles forght and his victories won, The old-time honesty and troth. The truthfulness and the friends of youth, Home and mother—where are they ? Over the hills and far away— Over the hills and far away !