Free will, warring with fate, produces Tragedy, so it is said. To-day, we have lost much of the significance of the old "[Greek: tragôdia]." When the priest poets Tyrtæus and Æschylus clamorously exalted--held high that all might see--the Godhead of men who fight and do, it was not so much the tragedy itself, but the circumstances that made it which inspired men's hearts. "Free will warring with Fate"--it was the clash of that fine battle, which those old Greeks found significant and uplifting. For a moment let us look into this so seeming-piteous a one of ours, on which soon the iron curtain is resonantly to fall. It is a hard, stern story this of our poor serf. The rebel lifted his hand against an established force. For that he perished in bitter agony. But, going so soon to his death, he shows us a Man in spite of all his woes. And we can be uplifted in contemplating that. It is Hyla's message to us no less than to his scarred brethren on the castle hill. The Lord of Hilgay could maim and kill his body, but the Manhood in him was a flame unquenchable, and burnt a mark upon his age. The clash of his battle rings through centuries. His doings sowed a seed, and we ourselves sit to-day in that great blood-nourished tree of Freedom which sprang therefrom. * * * * * The stars that night were singularly bright and vivid. The sky was powdered with a dust of light, among which the greater stars burned like lamps. Below that glorious canopy Hyla lay in an uneasy sleep. Every now and then he awoke, chilled to the bone. Though the stars were all so clear and bright they seemed very remote from this world and all its business, as he looked up with staring, miserable eyes. Hyla believed, as little children in Spain are taught to this day, that the stars were but chinks, holes, and gaps in the floor of heaven itself. He thought their bright white light but an overflow of the great white radiance of God's Home. That comforted him but little as he lay cold and hungry in the swamp. Indeed it was easier to pray in the day-time, when even a hint of heaven was absent. The enormous radiance was so remote in its splendour. It accentuated his forlorn and forgotten state. He was lying but a few yards from the edge of the broad pool which barred his progress, and as the hours wore on and the stars paled, the blackness of the water became grey and tremulous. It was nearing dawn, though the sun had not yet risen, when he thought he saw a red flicker in the mist which lay over the lagoon. It was too ruddy and full-coloured for a marsh light, and his hopes leapt up, half doubting, at the sight. In a moment or two, the light became plainer, and he knew he was not deceived. The thing was real. It advanced towards him, and seemed like a torch. He sent a husky shout out over the water. Whether the light betokened advance of friend or foe he did not know or care.