nd--! He leaned forward, but his
eye was caught by the setting sun.

It had come down to the top of Cherry Clack Hill, and the light poured
in between the tree trunks so that you could see red and gold and black
deep into the heart of Far Wood; and Parnesius in his armour shone as
though he had been afire.

'Wait!' he said, lifting a hand, and the sunlight jinked on his glass
bracelet. 'Wait! I pray to Mithras!'

He rose and stretched his arms westward, with deep, splendid-sounding
words. Then Puck began to sing too, in a voice like bells tolling, and
as he sang he slipped from Volaterrae to the ground, and beckoned the
children to follow. They obeyed; it seemed as though the voices were
pushing them along; and through the goldy-brown light on the beech
leaves they walked, while Puck between them chanted something like this:

'Cur mundus militat sub vana gloria
Cujus prosperitas est transitoria?
Tam cito labitur ejus potentia
Quam vasa figuli quae sunt fragilia.'

They found themselves at the little locked gates of the wood.

'Quo Caesar abiit celsus imperio?
Vel Dives splendidus totus in prandio?
Dic ubi Tullius--'

Still singing, he took Dan's hand and wheeled him round to face Una as
she came out of the gate. It shut behind her, at the same time as Puck
threw the memory-magicking Oak, Ash and Thorn leaves over their heads.

'Well, you are jolly late,' said Una. 'Couldn't you get away before?'

'I did,' said Dan. 'I got away in lots of time, but--but I didn't know
it was so late. Where've you been?'

'In Volaterrae--waiting for you.'

'Sorry,' said Dan. 'It was all that beastly Latin.'

A British-Roman Song

(A.D. 406)

My father's father saw it not,
And I, belike, shall never come
To look on that so-holy spot--
The very Rome--

Crowned by all Time, all Art, all Might,
The equal work of Gods and Man,
City beneath whose oldest height--
The Race began!

Soon to send forth again a brood,
Unshakeable, we pray, that clings
To Rome's thrice-hammered hardihood--
In arduous things.
Strong heart with triple armour bound,
Beat strongly, for Thy life-blood runs,
Age after Age, the Empire round--
In us Thy Sons,
Who, distant from the Seven Hills,
Loving and serving much, require
Thee--Thee to guard 'gainst home-born ills
The Imperial Fire!

ON THE GREAT WALL

'When I left Rome for Lalage's sake