page 16

The Channel Fleet at Kirkwall.

The days have fled when Vikings bold
Around our coasts held sway,
And prowled along Orcadia's shores,
Like lions for their prey.
Now peace and plenty crown each home,
And oh, what gladsome news to some—
Old England's wooden walls have come,
And anchored in our Bay.

Men throng the streets from morn to eve,
The gallant and the brave;
How strange and small our town appears
To their homes o'er the wave.
They climb our ruinous old tower;
Stern faces, with the will and power,
When comes our nation's danger hour,
To perish or to save.

From hoar St. Magnus' far-famed bells,
In merry peal bursts forth
Good wishes from a thousand hearts,
And welcome to the North.
While heard around on every hand,
In music from the Hero's band,
"God save the Queen," who rules our land—
All bless the woman's worth.

Among the visitors who pace
The old Cathedral aisle,
page 17 Is one who walks with steady step,
And visage kind and hale.
Yet from the echoing vaults beneath,
Where ages past lie hid with death;
A voice tells of the fleeting breath,
And dirge's solemn wail.

Scarce one short week has swiftly fled,
When sweeps along our street,
The mournful sound of muffled drums,
And the march of martial feet.
With flag around the coffin thrown—
With guns reversed, and bayonets down:
That visitor of our old town,
A corpse came from the fleet.

The white-robed priest, with solemn awe,
Bends o'er the lifeless clay,
And tells of his Great Master's law—
"Be ready, watch, and pray:"
He who amidst temptations rife,
Was ever victor in the strife—
The Resurrection and the Life,
The new and living way.

In that secluded lonely place,
Beneath the willow's shade,
With all the honours of his race,
The mortal part is laid,
With humble faith and loving trust,
Knowing that this frail body must
Lie, earth to earth and dust to dust,
Till trumpets wake the dead.

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Far from his kindred and his friends,
Far from his childhood's home,
Where never loved, or loving ones,
In mournful guise may come,
With slow and lingering steps, to trace
Their pathway to his resting-place,
Where now that once familiar face
Lies in a stranger's tomb.