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Or “ Me and my Comårade”:

When I was bound apprentice

In famous Lincolnshire,
Full well I served my master

For more than seven year;
Till I took up to poaching,

As you shall quickly hear,
Oh! it's my delight on a shiny night,

In the season of the year.

As me and my comårade

Were setting of a snare,
'Twas then we spied the gamekeeper,-

For him we did not care;
For we can wrestle and fight, my boys,

And jump o'er any where,–
For it's my delight on a shiny night,

In the season of the year. An old tune and words freighted with early native associations are of curious value as homecarriers to those abroad. One may add here a terzet of other passages, which were written out of their wisdom and tenderness, by the great hearts, the master spirits, of our literature ; too slight to fill whole pages, but too memorable to be forgotten. One is Ben Jonson's word on Amor Patriæ, in his Discoveries :

“There is a necessity all men should love their country : he that professeth the contrary, may be delighted with his words, but his heart is there."

Another is Wordsworth’s, from his prose-tract on the Convention of Cintra, in which he speaks of his sorrow for England if she should betray her trust as the keeper of the liberty of the nations. It rings like a prose-lyric, to be set by his noble sonnets inspired by the same passionate affection for England :

“O sorrow ! O misery for England, the land of liberty and courage and peace; the land trustworthy and long approved; the home of lofty example and benign precept ; the central orb to which, as to a fountain, the nations of the earth 'ought to repair, and in their golden urns draw light”;-0 sorrow and shame for our country ; for the grass which is upon her fields, and the dust which is in her graves ;—for her good men who now look upon the day ;-and her long train of deliverers and defenders, her Alfred, her Sidneys, and her Milton ; whose voice yet speaketh for our reproach ; and whose actions survive in memory to confound us, or to redeem !”

The third is Shakespeare's : “O England, model to thy inward greatness,

Like little body with a mighty heart, What might'st thou do, that honour would thee do, Were all thy children kind and natural !” 1 More to the same effect could be added, which lent a moving accent to that famous concerted lay of England, written by her poets and her prosewriters, from Chaucer down to our own time of troubled peace after war.

It is to England that the book has been mainly confined for want of room. A much larger anthology than this would be required for the book of Great Britain and Ireland. Grateful acknowledgments are due by the editor, publishers and readers of this volume to the following authors and publishers for their kind permission to use copyright material :

1 Prologue to Henry V.

Mr. Hilaire Belloc ; Mr. Arnold Bennett ; Rt. Hon. Augustine Birrell ; Mrs. W. A. Brooke ; Mr. G. K. Chesterton ; Miss Helen Gray Cone ; Mr. Austin Dobson ; Mr. A. G. Gardiner ; Viscount Grey of Fallodon ; Mr. E. Vine Hall; Mr. Thomas Hardy ; Mr. Edward Hutton ; Mr. E. V. Lucas ; Mr. John Masefield ; Mr. Thos. Newbigging ; Sir Henry Newbolt; Sir Hubert C. H. Parry ; Mr. Walter Raymond ; Professor Will Rothenstein ; Mr. Arthur Rutland ; Sir Owen Seaman, D.Litt. ; Lieut.-General C. J. Smuts ; Sir Rabindranath Tagore ; Mr. Fullerton L. Waldo ; President Woodrow Wilson ; Mr. W. B.


Messrs. Duckworth & Co.; Mr. William Heinemann ; Messrs. Hodder & Stoughton ; Messrs. Macmillan & Co.; Messrs. Methuen & Co.; Messrs. Kegan Paul, Trench & Co. ; the Proprietors of Punch ; Messrs. Sidgwick & Jackson; Messrs. Curwen and Sons.

“ Time was, when it was praise and boast enough In every clime, and travel where we might, That we were born her children.”


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