and artistically woven in with the rest of the poem, that the total effect is wholly different from that which any mere prose statement could create. Imagination, melody, mystery-by the use of these three elements Kingsley has taken a familiar tragedy of the sea and converted it into a haunting poem which one can never forget. But in reading a poem like this one either feels its meaning or he doesn't; and no interpreter can be of any great assistance to him.


1 “O Mary, go and call the cattle home,

And call the cattle home,

And call the cattle home,

Across the sands o' Dee.”
The western wind was wild and dark wi' foam,

And all alone went she.

The western tide crept up along the sand,

And o’er and o'er the sand,

And round and round the sand,

As far as eye could see;
The rolling mist came down and hid the land;

And never home came she.

3 “O, is it weed, or fish, or floating hair

A tress o'golden hair,

O’ drowned maiden's hair,

Above the nets at sea ?”
Was never salmon yet that shone so fair

Among the stakes on Dee.

They rowed her in across the rolling foam,

The cruel, crawling foam,

The cruel, hungry foam,

To her grave beside the sea. But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home, Across the sands o’ Dee.

- Charles Kingsley.


This poem, in imitation of an oriental fable, may be or it may not be good theology, but it expresses the modern idea of altruism which is the basis of all social service. “For he that loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seen ?" It has taken the world a long time to learn that “the second commandment is like unto the first." Perhaps Leigh Hunt's simple poem, known and quoted everywhere, has helped a little to turn the minds of

time to learn

commandment is like

Perhaps Leigh

men toward the needs of their fellowmen. Doubtless these eighteen lines have built more than one hospital and sent more than one angel of mercy to the children of the slums. “And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”


Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase !)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold.

Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold;
And to the presence in the room he said,
“What writest thou ?” The vision raised its head,
And, with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered, “The names of those who love the Lord."

“And is mine one?” said Abou. “Nay, not 80,"
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still; and said, “I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow-men.”

The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again, with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blessed;
And, lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.

-Leigh Hunt.


Vellore is a town in British India situated in the district of North Arcot on the right bank of the River Palár.

After the fall of Seringapatam (1799) Vellore became the residence of the sons of Tippoo Sahib, the dethroned Sultan of Mysore. Owing to the intrigues of these sons of Tippoo Sahib, a revolt of the sepoys was begun on the 10th of July, 1806.

The insurgents were quickly subdued by Colonel Gillespie, the gallant commander of the British forces stationed at Vellore, which was the military cantonment of the North Arcot district of the Madras presidency. About eight hundred sepoys were put to the sword.

Mr. Newbolt's poem is not only dramatic but it is thoroughly and unusually alive with so-called local coloring. It is one of the best things of its kind in any tongue.


1 Riding at dawn, riding alone,

Gillespie left the town behind; Before he turned by the westward road A horseman crossed him, staggering blind.

2 “The devil's abroad in false Vellore

The devil that stabs by night," he said: “Women and children, rank and file, Dying and dead, dying and dead.”

3 Without a word, without a groan,

Sudden and swift Gillespie turned; The blood roared in his ears like fire,

Like fire the road beneath him burned.

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He thundered back to Arcot gate,

He thundered up through Arcot town; Before he thought a second thought

In the barrack yard he lighted down.


“Trumpeter, sound for the Light Dragoons !

Sound to saddle and spur!” he said. "He that is ready may ride with me, And he that can may ride ahead.”

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