Ere Beltane rites would be begun With homage to the rising sun Ere to the spirits of the dead Would sacrificial blood be shed In yon green grove of Navity When Conn came over the Eastern Sea, His heart aflame with vengeful ire, To seek for Goll, who slew his sire When he was seven years old.

and "thou shalt To save thy sire from shame!"

O ruthless Fortune! flushed with generous pride, He sought his sire, and thus unhappy, died.

The empty blandishments of the world have no charms for him, nor have its ephemeral pleasures any allurement; for, like the gallant knight of Peugwern, when invited by Henry the Seventh to share the honors of his court, for services rendered at Bosworth Field, he would meekly but promptly reply, "Sire!

But tell me, sire, how go the works at Marly?

10 Adam, though blest above his kind, For want of social woman pined, Eve's wants the subtle serpent saw, Her fickle taste transgressed the law: Thus fell our sires; and their disgrace The curse entailed on human race.

May I ask, sire?'

Appius now threw off the mask which he had so long worn, and assumed his natural characterthe same as had distinguished his sire and grandsire, of unhappy memory.

Tell me, if virtue made the son expire, Why, full of days and honour, lives the sire? Why drew Marseilles' good bishop purer breath, When nature sickened, and each gale was death?

'The daughter of my heart has found her sire,' said Herbert in an impassioned voice.

For I have lost my sire, and I have lost my lover brave, For here I languish all alone, a subject and a slave.

The son remains, the sword remains, Its glory growing still, And twenty millions bless the sire And sword of Bunker Hill.

But while the seamen crouched to sleep, Conn sat alone in reverie deep, And saw before him in a maze The mute procession of his days, In gloom and glamour wending fast His heart a-hungering for the past Again he leapt, a tender boy, To greet his sire with eager joy, When he came over the wide North Sea, Enriched with spoils of victory Then heavily loomed that fateful morn When tidings of his fall were borne From Alban shore ...

"That crimson tent where spear-men frowning stand, And steel-clad veterans form a threatening band, Holds mighty Gúdarz, famed for martial fire, Of eighty valiant sons the valiant sire; Yet strong in arms, he shuns inglorious ease, His lion-banners floating in the breeze.

Well, luck be with the gipsy man and lead him safely home To the old familiar caravan and ways he used to roam, And bring him as it brought his sires from their far first abode To where the gipsy camp-fires burn along the Portsmouth Road.

Superior worth your rank requires; For that mankind reveres your sires; If you degenerate from your race, Their merits heighten your disgrace.

A chair, a candle, and a tinder-box, A thacked chamber and a ragged gown, Should be their lands and whole possessions; Knights, lords, and lawyers should be lodg'd and dwell Within those over-stately heaps of stone, Which doating sires in old age did erect.

They are suckled for two months, but at the end of that time they are able to eat half-digested flesh disgorged for them by their damor even their sire.

Thus warm'd, thus waken'd, with congenial fire, Each hero's son shall emulate his sire; From age to age prolong the glorious line, And guard their country with a shield divine!

'And the other escaped?' 'No, sire, I killed him also.' 'What!'

He, who to seem more deep than you or I, Extols old bards, or Merlin's prophecy, Mistake him not; he envies, not admires, And to debase the sons, exalts the sires.

The young man listened till the end with respectful attention; and then exclaimed, "In faith, fair sire, I will unite you to my mother.

" Under the burden of this imputed ignominy, was it remarkable that I faltered in my own piece immediately following? "The Warrior bowed his crested head, and tamed his heart of fire, And sued the haughty King to free his long imprisoned sire.

'Tis one of the parliament's bye-blows, acts only being legitimate, and hath no more sire than a Spanish jennet that is begotten by the wind.

Ne may thee helpe the manie hartie vow, Which thy olde sire with sacred pietie Hath powred forth for thee, and th'altars sprent* Nought may thee save from heavens avengëment!