Out to the wharf where the long ship lay with her beak to the open sea, He went by the way of the merchantmen that trade to the ports of Spain; Clamouring folk beside him ran with sorrowing voice or wailing plea: "Hero--Pride of the Roman State! Turn again at the Harbour-Gate, Back and away from Tyrian hate with us to Rome again." Out on the wharf he walked from those--that wailed and wept to see him go; And hand in his she walked with him--her royal head on high. And the crowd was still as she turned and spoke--her hand in his and her eyes aglow: "Here where the tide and Tiber foam, I turn from you to an empty home. But alone of women of wailing Rome I have no tears to dry; "Pass to the sea and the Death beyond to the home of the Gods you left for Earth; Of all the women of Rome to-night, no pride shall equal mine. A God, the man that leaves me now--but ah! a lover that thought me worth-- The whispered word of a husband true--I thank the Gods that I hold from you The right that fair Eurydice knew--the love of a man Divine." A NORTH SEA NOTE A NORTH SEA NOTE. The wind that whispered softly over Kiel across the Bay, Died away as the dark closed down, Till the Dockyard glare showed the ending of the day In the Fortress-Town. In the silence of the night as the big ships swung To the buoys as the flood-tide made, Came a clamour from the wind like a shield that is rung By a foemen's blade. Far above the masts where the wireless showed, Traced out against a star-lit sky, A voice called down from the Whist-hound's road Where the clouds went by-- Listen down below--In the High Sea Fleet, For a signal that was shouted up to me By the sailors that I left on the old, old beat, Far out in the cold North Sea. They shouted up to me as the glass went down, And they ducked to the North-West spray, "Will you take a message to the Fortress-Town, And the Fleet that is lying in the Bay? "Say that we are waiting in the waters of the North, And we'll wait till the seas run dry-- Or the High Sea Fleet from the Bight comes forth, And the twelve-inch shells go by. "We have waited very long, but we haven't any doubt They are longing for the day we'll meet. But tell 'em as you pass that the sooner they are out, All the better for the English Fleet. "For when we see 'em sinking--(they'll be fighting to the last, And for those that are lost we'll grieve,) We will cheer for a signal at the Flagship's mast-- On arrival at the Base--Long Leave!" SOMETHING WRONG SOMETHING WRONG.