d offal decaying, and in- SIR JOHN OLDCASTLE, LORD torment of flies, the breezes of May blower an English field, vy, and fever, the wound ould not be heal'd, y of the limb by the pitiiless knife, trouble in vain, could save us a life. icate women who tended pital bed, for it nen in travail among the and dead, perishing children, and moment for grief, able weariness, faltering f.relief, 90 led, or beaten, or butchall that we knew 1 night, day and night, down on the still-shatalls usket-bullets, and thouf cannon-balls In the topmost roof our of England blew. VII de, fusillade! is it true is told by the scout, Lavelock breaking their bugh the fell mutineers? roch of Europe is ringn in our ears! en the garrison utter a shout, rious Highlanders anh conquering cheers, No fault of mine. Had he God's word in Welsh He might be kindlier; happily come the day! Labels-to take the king along with him All heresy, treason; but to call mer traitors May make men traitors. Rose of Lancaster, Red in thy birth, redder with household war, ང་ Now reddest with the blood of holy men, Not least art thou, thou little Beth- | Redder to be, red rose of Lancasterlehem If somewhere in the North, as Rumor In Judah, for in thee the Lord was born: Nor thou in Britain, little Lutterworth, Least, for in thee the word was born again. Heaven-sweet Evangel, ever-living word, Who whilome spakest to the South in Greek 29 gone again? Have I mislearnt our place of meeting? Bread Bread left after the blessing?' how they stared, That was their main test-question — glared at me! 'He veil'd Himself in flesh, and now He veils His flesh in bread, body and bread together.' 150 Then rose the howl of all the cassock'd wolves, 'No bread, no bread. God's body!' Archbishop, bishop, Priors, canons, friars, bell-ringers, parish-clerks 'No bread, no bread!'-'Authority of the Church, Power of the keys!' Then I, God help me, I So mock'd, so spurn'd, so baited two whole days I lost myself and fell from evenness, And rail'd at all the Popes that, ever since Sylvester shed the venom of worldwealth Into the church, had only proven themselves 160 Poisoners, murderers. Well- God pardon all Me, them, and all the world-yea, that proud priest, That mock-meek mouth of utter Antichrist, That traitor to King Richard and the truth, Who rose and doom'd me to the fire. Amen' Nay, I can burn, so that the Lord of life Be by me in my death. Those three! the fourth i Was like the Son of God! Not burat were they. On them the smell of burning had no past. That was a miracle to convert the king. 17 These Pharisees, this Caiaphas-Arundel What miracle could turn? He here again, He thwarting their traditions of Him self, He would be found a heretic to Himself, And doom'd to burn alive. So, caught, I burn. Burn? heathen men have borne as much as this, For freedom, or the sake of those they loved, Or some less cause, some cause far less than mine; For every other cause is less than mine. The moth will singe her wings, and singed return, 180 We and our sons for ever. Ferdinand this iron from our isles of Hath sign'd it and our Holy Catholic Queen 30 Of the Ocean- of the Indies - Admi All their cosmogonies, their astronomies. Guess-work they guess'd it, but the golden guess Is morning-star to the full round of truth. No guess-work! I was certain of my goal; Some thought it heresy, but that would not hold. King David call'd the heavens a hide, a tent Spread over earth, and so this earth was flat. Some cited old Lactantius; could it be That trees grew downward, rain fell upward, men |