FAREWELL TO DOCTOR TEMPLE 131 



Brothers, I bid you sing, 



Because Truth fails not though the great go by, 

 And those frail souls that win to her on high 

 Abide unvex'd by vain imagining : 

 Low at her feet the white waves howl for hate, 

 She is so calm, and they so passionate : 

 Let us be glad together for this thing 



Truth cannot die. 



Children, I bid you pray : 

 So, though we look not on his like again, 

 Maybe his memory will our heart sustain, 

 And some pure portion of his spirit stay : 

 This too he taught us, and 'tis no light gift 

 To souls sore-blinded by the tempest-drift, 

 That who on heaven's high succour wait alway, 



Wait not in vain. 



Once more, I bid you " peace." 

 How should weak song put sorrow out of sight ? 

 There are who clamour at love and curse the light ; 

 Silence alone is holy till they cease. 

 Yea, O our Master, for ourselves and thee 

 Sweet is the silence, since joy may not be : 

 God of thy day's work give thee fair increase, 



And a good night. 



December, 1869. 



In the same letter as quoted above I wrote a description 

 of what was really my last Big Side football match : 



I played football once more yesterday, in the Two Cock House 

 Match. The two houses had got numberless old Rugbeians 

 down, and playing 85 to our 42 amid perpetual rain, hacked us 

 almost off our legs. However, thanks to Arnica, I am all right. 



I have a very vivid recollection of that huge phalanx 

 of opponents as we went out to face them in the pouring 

 rain. Within ten minutes all our side were plastered 

 with mud from head to heel, for they swept over us like 

 an avalanche. The curious point was that they never 

 got a goal during two hours' play, being, no doubt, 

 incommoded by their own numbers. 



