A childhood land of mountain ways,
Where earthy gnomes and forest fays,
Kind, foolish giants, gentle bears,
Sport with the peasant as he fares
Affrighted through the forest glades,
And lead sweet, wistful little maids
Lost in the woods, forlorn, alone,
To princely lovers and a throne.
Dear haunted land of gorge and glen,
Ah me! the dreams, the dreams of men!
A learned law of wise old books
And men with meditative looks,
Who move in quaint red-gabled towns,
And sit in gravely-folded gowns,
Divining in deep-laden speech
The world's supreme arcana--each
A homely god to listening youth,
Eager to tear the veil of Truth;
Mild votaries of book and pen--
Alas, the dreams, the dreams of men!
A music land whose life is wrought
In movements of melodious thought;
In symphony, great wave on wave--
Or fugue elusive, swift and grave;
A singing land, whose lyric rhymes
Float on the air like village chimes;
Music and verse--the deepest part
Of a whole nation's thinking heart!
Oh land of Now, oh land of Then!
Dear God! the dreams, the dreams of men!
Slave nation in a land of hate,
Where are the things that made you great?
Child-hearted once--oh, deep defiled,
Dare you look now upon a child?
Your lore--a hideous mask wherein
Self-worship hides its monstrous sin--
Music and verse, divinely wed--
How can these live where love is dead?
Oh depths beneath sweet human ken,
God help the dreams, the dreams of men!
The Norwegian explorer, Roald Amundsen, is preparing for a trip to the
North Pole in 1918. Additional interest now attaches to this spot as being
the only territory whose neutrality the Germans have omitted to violate.
Apropos of neutrals, the crew of the U-boat interned at Cadiz has been
allowed to land on giving their word of honour not to leave Spain during
the continuance of the War. The mystery of how the word "honour" came into
their possession is not explained. It is easier to explain that the Second
Division, in which Mr. E.D. Morel is now serving, is not the one which
fought at the battle of Mons.
_October, 1917_.
Another month of losses and gains. Against the breakthrough at Caporetto on
the Isonzo we have to set the steady advance of Allenby on the Palestine
front, and the decision arrived at by an extraordinary meeting of German
Reichstag members that the Germans cannot hope for victory in the field. We
see nothing extraordinary in this. The Reichstag may not yet be able to
influence policy, but it is not blind to facts--to the terribly heavy
losses involved in our enemy's desperate efforts to prevent us from
occupying the ridges above the Ypres-Menin road, and so forcing him to face
the winter on the low ground. Then, too, there has been the ominous mutiny
of the German sailors at Kiel. The ringleaders have been executed, but they
may have preferred death to another speech from the Kaiser. Dr. Michaelis,
that "transient embarrassed phantom," has joined the ranks of the
dismissed. No sooner had the _Berliner Tageblatt_ pointed out that
"Dr. Michaelis was a good Chancellor as Chancellors go" than he went.
Another of the German doctor politicians has been delivering his soul on
the failure of Pro-German propaganda in memorable fashion. Dr. Dernburg, in
_Deutsche Politik_, tells us that "steadfastness and righteousness are
the qualities which the German people value in the highest degree, and
which have brought it a good and honourable reputation in the whole world.
When we make experiments in lies and deceptions, intrigue and low cunning,
we suffer hopeless and brutal failure. Our lies are coarse and improbable,
our ambiguity is pitiful simplicity. The history of the War proves this by
a hundred examples. When our enemies poured all these things upon us like a
hailstorm, and we convinced ourselves of the effectiveness of such tactics,
we tried to imitate them. But these tactics will not fit the German. We are
rough but moral, we are credulous but honest." Before this touching picture
of the German Innocents very much abroad, the Machiavellian Briton can only
take refuge in silent amazement.
[Illustration: THE DANCE OF DEATH