The Embers | Page 2

admirers, and such singers as Mrs. Henschel helped to make
Mr. Foote's music loved by thousands, and conferred something more
than an ephemeral acceptance of the author's words.
When thou comest to the safe tent of the good comrade, abide there till
thy going forth with a stedfast mind; and if, at the hospitable fire, thou
hast learned the secret of a heart, thou shalt keep it holy, as the North
Wind the
trouble of the Stars.
PROEM
And the Angel said:
"What hast thou for all thy travail--
what dost thou bring with thee out
of the dust of the world?"

And the man answered:
"Behold, I bring one perfect
yesterday!"

And the Angel questioned:
"Hast thou then no to-morrow?
Hast thou no hope?"

And the man replied:
"Who am I that I should hope!
Out of all my life I have been granted
one
sheaf of memory."

And the Angel said:
"Is this all!"

And the man answered:
"Of all else was I robbed by the way:
but Memory was hidden safely
i n my heart--the world found it not."
ROSLEEN
"She's the darlin' of the parish, she's the pride of
Inniskillen;
'Twould make your heart lep up to see her trippin'
down the glen;
There's not a lad of life and fame that wouldn't take
her shillin'
And inlist inside her service-did ye hear her laughin'
then?
Did ye see her with her hand in mine the day that
Clancy married?
Ah, darlin', how we footed it-the grass it was so
green!
And when the neighbours wandered home, I was the
guest that tarried,
An hour plucked from Paradise--come back to me,
Rosleen!
Across the seas, beyand the hills, by lovely Inniskillen, The rigiment
come marchin'--I hear the call once
more
Shure, a woman's but a woman--so I took the Sergeant'

s shillin',
For the pride o' me was hurted--shall I never see
her more?
She turned her face away from me, and black as night
the land became;
Her eyes were jewels of the sky, the finest iver seen;
She left me for another lad, he was a lad of life and
fame,
And the heart of me was hurted--but there's none
that's like Rosleen!"
WILL YOU COME BACK HOME?
Will you come back home, where the young larks are
singin'?
The door is open wide, and the bells of Lynn are ringin';
There's a little lake I know,
And a