Cut down last year's:
But with bold countenance,
And knowledge small,
Esteems her seven days' continuance
To be perpetual.

So Time that is o'er-kind,
To all that be,
Ordains us e'en as blind,
As bold as she:
That in our very death,
And burial sure,
Shadow to shadow, well persuaded, saith,
'See how our works endure!'



A Centurion of the Thirtieth


Dan had come to grief over his Latin, and was kept in; so Una went alone
to Far Wood. Dan's big catapult and the lead bullets that Hobden had
made for him were hidden in an old hollow beech-stub on the west of the
wood. They had named the place out of the verse in _Lays of Ancient
Rome_:

From lordly Volaterrae,
Where scowls the far-famed hold
Piled by the hands of giants
For Godlike Kings of old.