130 " MY KINGDOM FOR A HORSE ! 



But where'er thy name be known, 

 Rugby hails thee first her own. 



Yes, she hails thee loud and long, 

 Ere the kindly hour departs, 



Once again with shout and song, 

 Evermore with loyal hearts : 



Hearts too full to sing or say 

 All their love and loss to-day. 



Much thou'st taught us : see ! we keep 

 Noblest of thy counsels, one 



Not to waver, not to weep, 

 Where there's duty to be done. 



Staunch we stand, oh ! Master, see, 

 Ready e'en to part from thee. 



Wider fields await thee now, 

 Richer corn-land, bleaker fen ; 



Forth to sweeten and to sow 



Haste, oh, chief of husbandmen ! 



Where thou treadest still to bring 

 Days of happy harvesting. 



England, take from us to-day 

 One more man of mighty mould : 



Could we think to cheat thee ? nay, 

 Such thy hero-type of old ; 



Strong and tender now as then, 

 Joy of youth and tower of men. 



Must we lose him ? must he go ? 



Weak and selfish thought away ! 

 This at least 'tis ours to show, 



This our praise shall all men say 

 Whereso' honoured, lov'd and known, 



Rugby hailed him first her own. 



December, 1869. 



COMRADES, I bid you weep : 

 Save this, there is no solace left to show : 

 In all fair harvests that our hands shall mow 

 Henceforth the master-reaper will not reap. 

 Idle it is 'gainst adverse fates to strive, 

 And with vain effort still keep grief alive ; 

 There is a time for tears too as for sleep 



Let your tears flow. 



