The fragrant violet, in its mossy shrine, Hath not the blushing loveliness of thine; And though within thy silky stem a dart Doth lurk, pray do not pierce my heart. In all my garden, in its beauty set, With waxen lilies and with mignonette, And pansies purple with sweet amber eyes-- The charm of Flora’s glory with thee lies. IN MEMORIAM. CAPTAIN SCOTT AND COMRADES WHO PERISHED IN ANTARCTICA. Not in mausoleum built of carven stone Sleep Britain’s heroes, but they lie alone In temple grand as human heart could crave Scott and his comrades in their mighty grave. The ice their couch, with pure white snow for shroud. Oh! Avalanche of woe: earth weeps aloud: The star-fringed sky their pall. No mournful bell, Or loving voice to breathe farewell: farewell. No muffled drum, nor flag to drape their bier; No shot was heard, nor fell one human tear. But where dark Erebus her vigil lone doth keep, Our heroes sleep serene their long last sleep. Their names are written in the Terrene sod: Their spirits are immortal with their God. AUSTRAL’S HEROES. We praise the deeds of ancient heroes bred Beneath Olympus’ venerable head, Or proud Parnassus’ patriarchal crown And victors’ wreaths which sons of Hellas won. Of Solon, whose impassioned lips once poured From the great Pynx his eloquence of word; And mighty Hector, and Astyanax, his boy, At once the idol and the pride of Troy. These vanished heroes, and the temples of the plain Though voiceless, ever deathless will remain; For though her brilliant Sun has long since set The spell of Hellas lingers o’er us yet. But we, as thus we sing of Greece and Rome, Have heroes such as they, and nearer home; The sons of sires who through the ages fought Like Trojans, fired with all the deeds they wrought; Our pioneers who delved the virgin soil In this new land with patient endless toil; In the primeval forest with companions few The more they toiled, their minds the greater grew. For they through long and dreary, lonely hours Wrestled with all the dim remorseless powers Of doubt, distress, and solitude and fear, While grim despair stood ever hovering near. Yet they with ever glowing fierce desire Of a consuming, and a never dying fire, Which latent in the human breast doth ever lie, Potent in hidden power and vast immensity Pressed bravely onward while they hewed the track, From death and danger never turning back; But through the bush bizarre and gorge they strode Their watchword ringing “On and clear the road.” And lo! Upon the pathless waste of desert plain Stood hunger, thirst, disease, and all their train, Marshalled like hosts of old to smite and slay The unhappy victims as they fainting lay: