"Yes, 'swounds! said they, it fits us tell,'-- When, as with sense of proper cue, The Beam--the fellow of the sturdy thew-- Spoke singly out: like tongue of rousing bell That on still deeps of vasty midnight falls, To doom of raging flood, or fire calls, Reverberate rang his ghostly strain: "Had I been there, on Afric's shore, Where homes mid toil the hardy Boer; Or, there where erst was laid the train And cunning fuse, whose rowdy charge Set War's deep-mouthed hounds at large-- Been there--good now and well-a-day! Proud Cecil's hunger for more Earth, To swell a tottering empire in the girth, No thought for 'ts feet, those props of clay, Should for its fill, or nearways bound, Have had a six foot some of Christian ground. Or, grant, this stories not, by far, Quite twists, the way his craving came; That a wider mark went roves with Fame: E'en so--the fatuous head he gave his star Balked still true rise, yon warier climb, Which must match foot with patient Time. But, take in both; let honor owe Some voice to each; yet some base touch no merit downs, Sinks born kings to range with clowns, Wreaked here its curse thro' human law, And, deriving whence no issue sleep, Would have had yon stern verdict keep. Since, so had no lure that Mammon piles Blazed wide to men, "I know ye all; Lo, here my truck, lo, there your soul! And, what devil doubts, but damned files For lasting count, scores twice this creed: "Fair ends must bear what foul means breed." So had ne'er cried out 'gainst fearsome spilth No brave mens' blood, no blasted home Made sick the times, sensed fierce the stars, past where they dome Shrilled wildly forth "this is the husbandry whose tilth, When gathered full its ghastly sheaf, Shall blight with shame each laureled leaf, "That England wears, where ranker grow,"-- Well--this topped, I thought, all patient sense, And it seemed I said "Now pray you whence This dire bode? What glass be yours that it should show What veils all view,"--here, while my lip still quivering hung, Their wizard spell had tied my tongue; As from out my Dream there rose once more, This time that other's grim, now boding voice I thought so sleek, yet full of poise, And, tho' still you traced the snap it bore, 'T had now an eager, vast, nay, solemn sound, As if chiming with the sky-paths 'round. Withal, it was mine ancient friend's, the Trap, As lo, he dire spoke, "and had I been there, Where southward down the Capelands bear, Had I not quenched with my good cap, O'er-topped his crest, that Milner man, Whose swell of head to the Imperial plan