VICTIS.

Thames Advertiser, Volume XXV, Issue 7167, 7 March 1892, Page 1

VICTIS.

The stirface of the sea is fait . Beneath the summer sun find air, While far within its bosom dwell The scenes and sufferings of hell; There ravening monsters fiercely prey On raveners in a smaller way, And all that moves 13 horn to strife, Just as it is in human life. la nature, then, a work of art By smne vast genius, sans a heart? Some tinners perhaps may give the lie To this induction of the eye,— As kindly death, and light, and sleep, A nd love with its celeslial sweep Of great affections; yet, throughout, Creation's texture loaves no doubt, That, either the Creator had No tender thought for what was tad; Or .that he had irnt thought in time To show it at creation's prime, .Whin for (ill ends within the bound And scope'of mtUire* means were found, Yet means which meant an awful string Of suffering for each living thing, Which even the Master's marvellous power Could change not when there came the' hour. That gave him knowledge of the dower, Which his profuse impairing haad Had cast on sky and sen and land. Even shnuld'all/suffering by degrees Be drained out to its lowest lees. What can they gain who new perforce Must travel life's perplexing course, ' ; Unless beyond this earthly ball Some glorious guerdon waits for all Who touch,, however lightly, hero? Forfew.it may he fair to fear, Even of the chiefest of the race Can compensate their own sad case With hopesjjalone, howe'er sublime, For dwellers in an aftertime Yet, e'en as nature's self draws ia All noxions vapours, thick or thin, And all tlie poisonous products whirl'd Throughout the insanituy world, And gives them freely forth again [n glorious air or light or rain; So it is manhood's function still To draw inVery earthly ill, To press the huge world's silliest sores In anguish thro' its own pure pores. Yet not to yield i;d£ a prey To the woist poisons by the way, Hut so to mix ;md master all The gloom, the ghastltnos*, and "all, rhiit, theuce, the mm shall body forih But tilings of sweet and noble worth, And stand related evermore To day and night and sea and hhoi'f, Not as a pale and pithless wight, ' ' But as a conqueror, calm ami bright, . C.