Slowly the dark bells toll for him who asks No more of men, but that they may sometimes Pray for the souls of Richard Whittington, Alice, his wife, and (as themselves of old Had prayed) the father and mother of each of them. Slowly the great notes fall and float away:-- _Omnibus exemplum Barathrum vincendo morosum Condidit hoc templum ... Pauperibus pater ... Finiit ipse dies Sis sibi Christe quies. Amen._" IX RALEIGH Ben was our only guest that day. His tribe Had flown to their new shrine--the Apollo Room, To which, though they enscrolled his golden verse Above their doors like some great-fruited vine, Ben still preferred our _Mermaid_, and to smoke Alone in his old nook; perhaps to hear The voices of the dead, The voices of his old companions. Hovering near him,--Will and Kit and Rob. "Our Ocean-shepherd from the Main-deep sea, Raleigh," he muttered, as I brimmed his cup, "Last of the men that broke the fleets of Spain, 'Twas not enough to cage him, sixteen years, Rotting his heart out in the Bloody Tower, But they must fling him forth in his old age To hunt for El Dorado. Then, mine host, Because his poor old ship _The Destiny_ Smashes the Spaniard, but comes tottering home Without the Spanish gold, our gracious king, To please a catamite, Sends the old lion back to the Tower again. The friends of Spain will send him to the block This time. That male Salome, Buckingham, Is dancing for his head. Raleigh is doomed." A shadow stood in the doorway. We looked up; And there, but O, how changed, how worn and grey, Sir Walter Raleigh, like a hunted thing, Stared at us.