» Walter 0. Smith, " OlHg Gromge."
5o8 FRUITFULNESS THROUGH DEATH
hero-death, and victory's fire-chariot carrying men to the Immortals, shall never be thine. I pity thee; brag not, or I shall have to despise thee.^
The great obdurate world I know no more, The clanging of the brazen wheels of greed, The taloned hands that build the miser's store, The stony streets where feeble feet must bleed. No more I walk beneath thy ashen skies, With pallid martyrs cruelly crucified Upon thy predetermined Calvaries: I, too, have suffered, yea, and I have died ' Now, at the last, another road I take Thro* peaceful gardens, by a lilied way. To those low eaves beside the silver lake, Where Christ waits for me at the close of day. Farewell, proud world ! In vain thou callest me. I go to meet my Lord in Galilee.
* Carlyle, Cromwell's Letters and SpeecheSy i. 89.
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