Past,
Better the fear of our fathers' God than friendship false with
their foe:
And better anointed Death than the Nation's damnation at last,
And the crawling of craven limbs in life and the curse of the
coward below.

Among his publications are "Songs of Myself" (Hodges, Figgis & Co.),
"Thomas Campion" (Hodges, Figgis & Co.), and a larger volume of "Lyrical
Poems," reprinted by the _Irish Review_.

At the time of his death he was Lecturer in English Literature at the
National University.

Probably one of the most pathetic figures of the whole revolt was that
of young Joseph Plunkett, the son of Count Plunkett, whose marriage upon
the morn of his execution sent such a thrill of romance through the
English-speaking world when it became announced.

He too was a poet, and at one time the editor of the _Irish Review_, now
no more, and he was also a contributor to the _Academy_ and the _Dublin
Review_.

A little volume entitled "The Circle and the Sword," published by
Maunsel, is dedicated to his fellow-rebel, Thomas MacDonagh.

One poem among them is especially significant and is entitled "1867,"
but one feels inclined to call it 1916, for it might have been written
yesterday, as he blindfold faced the levelled rifles:--

All our best ye have branded
When the people were choosing them.
When 'twas death they demanded,
Ye laughed! ye were losing them.
But the blood that ye spilt in the night
Crieth loudly to God,
And their name hath the strength and the might
Of a sword for the sod.

* * * * *

In the days of our doom and our dread
Ye were cruel and callous.
Grim Death with our fighters ye fed
Through the jaws of your gallows.
But a blasting and blight was the fee
For which ye had bartered them.
And we smite with the sword that from ye
We had gained when ye martyred them!

It is probably by the romance of his last hours, however, that he will
be most remembered.

"Late on Wednesday night," as Mr. Stoker, the Grafton Street jeweller
already mentioned, told me the story, "just as I was about to go home,
suddenly a taxi stopped at the shop door, and a beautiful young woman
stepped out and asked me to show her some wedding-rings--'the best,' as
she put it, 'that money could buy.'

"She had a thick veil, but I could see that her eyes were red with