Driving the fence in splints about. The first he shot with his long steel pistol, The second he slew with his Irish sword, The third he threw in the brook, and mounted Quick on the steed of the fat Whig lord. Then off to the ship at the nearest harbour, Gallop'd Sir Walter, sure and fleet. He died, 'tis true, in an old French garret, But his heart went true to the latest beat. A white rose, stifled and very sickly, Pined for air at the window-sill, But the last fond look of the brave old trooper Was fixed on the dying emblem--still, All alone in the dusky garret, He turn d to the flower with a father's pride, "God save King James!" the old man mur- mured, "God--save--the--King!" he moaned and died. ----G. W. Thornbury. SISTER HELEN [Illustration: 0278] |Why did you melt your waxen man, Sister Helen? To-day is the third since you began." "The time was long, yet the time ran, Little brother." (_0 Mother, Mary Mother, Three days to-day, between Hell and Heaven!_) "But if you have done your work aright, Sister Helen, You'll let me play, for you said I might." "Be very still in your play to-night, Little brother." (_0 Mother, Mary Mother, Third night, to-night, between Hell and Heaven!_) "You said it must melt ere vesper-bell, Sister Helen; If now it be molten, all is well." "Even so,--nay, peace! you cannot tell, Little brother." (_0 Mothery Mary Mother,Owhat is this, between Hell and Heaven?_) "Oh the waxen knave was plump to-day, Sister Helen; How like dead folk he has dropped away!" "Nay now, of the dead what can you say, Little brother?" (_O Mother y Mary Mother y What of the dead, between Hell and Heaven?_) "See, see, the sunken pile of wood, Sister Helen, Shines through the thinned wax red as blood!" "Nay now, when looked you yet on blood, Little brother?" (_O Mother, Mary Mother, How pale she is, between Hell and Heaven!_) "Now close your eyes, for they're sick and sore, Sister Helen; And I'll play without the gallery door." "Aye, let me rest,--I'll lie on the floor, Little brother." (_O Mother, Mary Mother, What rest to-night, between Hell and Heaven?_) "Here high up in the balcony, Sister Helen, The moon flies face to face with me." "Aye, look and say whatever you see, Little brother." (_O Mother, Mary Mother, What sight to-night, between Hell and Heaven?_) "Outside it's merry in the wind's wake, Sister Helen; In the shaken trees the chill stars shake." "Hush, heard you a horse-tread as you spake, Little brother." (_O Mother, Mary Mother, What sound to-night, between Hell and Heaven?_)