e with a life more clear,
One who found not on earth his kin?

Sleep were sweet for awhile, were dear Surely to souls that were
heartless here, Souls that faltered and flagged and fell,
Soft of spirit and faint of cheer.

A living soul that had strength to quell Hope the spectre and fear the
spell, Clear-eyed, content with a scorn sublime
And a faith superb, can it fare not well?

Life, the shadow of wide-winged time, Cast from the wings that change as
they climb, Life may vanish in death, and seem
Less than the promise of last year's prime.

But not for us is the past a dream Wherefrom, as light from a clouded
stream, Faith fades and shivers and ebbs away,
Faint as the moon if the sundawn gleam.

Faith, whose eyes in the low last ray Watch the fire that renews the
day, Faith which lives in the living past,
Rock-rooted, swerves not as weeds that sway.

As trees that stand in the storm-wind fast She stands, unsmitten of
death's keen blast, With strong remembrance of sunbright spring
Alive at heart to the lifeless last.

Night, she knows, may in no wise cling To a soul that sinks not and
droops not wing, A sun that sets not in death's false night
Whose kingdom finds him not thrall but king.

Souls there are that for soul's affright Bow down and cower in the sun's
glad sight, Clothed round with faith that is one with fear,
And dark with doubt of the live world's light.

But him we hailed from afar or near
As boldest born of his kinsfolk here
And loved as brightest of souls that eyed
Life, time, and death with unchangeful cheer,

A wider soul than the world was wide, Whose praise made love of him one
with pride What part has death or has time in him,
Who rode life's list as a god might ride?

While England sees not her old praise dim, While still her stars through
the world's night swim A fame outshining her Raleigh's fame,
A light that lightens her loud sea's rim,

Shall shine and sound as her sons proclaim The pride that kindles at
Burton's name. And joy shall exalt their pride to be
The same in birth if in soul the same.

But we that yearn for a friend's face,--we Who lack the light that
on earth was he,-- Mourn, though the light be a quenchless flame That
shines as dawn on a tideless sea.

APPENDICES

Appendix I
Bibliography of Richard Burton

1. Grammar of the Jataki or Belochi Dialect. (Bombay Branch of the
Royal A