We watched the Druids worship; we watched the wild bulls feed;
We gave our oaks to ALFRED to build his ships at need;
And often in the moonlight our pricked ears in the wood
Have heard the hail of RUFUS, the horn of ROBIN HOOD.
But if our age-old roof-beams can serve her cause to-day,
The woodland elves of England will sign their rights away;
For none but will be woeful to hear the axes ring,
Yet none but would go homeless to aid an English King.
W.H.O.
* * * * *
GOOD OLD GOTHIC.
[An agitation for the total disuse of the Latin character, we learn
from Press quotations published in _The Daily Chronicle_, is raging
through the German Empire, and the Prussian Minister of the Interior
has forbidden the use of any other character than German Gothic in the
publications of the Statistical Bureau.]
The ways of the Hun comprehension elude,
They're so cleverly crass, so painstakingly crude;
For, in spite of his cunning and forethought immense,
He is often incurably stupid and dense
To the point of allowing his patriot zeal
To put a large spoke in his own driving-wheel.
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