Queniched is the beacon-fire that flamed 0 clearly on the bill The strong, the strenuous heart that beat 0 steadfastly is still The golden light had lingered long—the sky is radiant yet, But down behind the purple hills at last the sun has set.
The fight is done; the fighter's sword no foe could break or bend, Has been surrendered but to Death—so oft the brave man's friend And from the home he loved so well the lightning fish has sped To tell the world that watched so long—to weep, for Gladstone's dead All we have lost full time will show when grief has grown less keen, "Tis but a vision, blurred and marred,
But even now, whilst sorrow's mist still that can through tears be seen 5 zatiiers round the tomb, Like beams of sunlight, memories flash to dissipate the gloom.
Even whilst mourning we recall how true he was, how great, How earnest in the cause of Right, how zealous for the State How pure his aims, how strong his arm, how grand the deeds he wrought, As, bravest of Knights-errant, he for Freedom fiercely fought, We sce him struggling for the truth, we watch him in the fray—Each morning an encounter new, a triumph new each day.
We seo him towering high above his comrades and his foes We see him as from' strength to strength" exultingly he goes.
And then we sce him leave the field where long his flag has flown, Where his high courage found its match in his good faith alone We see him turn towards home and rest, and all the world draws nigh, That he who taught it how to live may teach it how to die, And what a lesson it has been to watch beside his bed, see in his bright, trustful eyes no sign of mortal dread "Yo hear from those poor fevered lips that murmur for release No word that does not breathe of love, no message but of peace So is he conqueror to the end, this friend for whom we mourn This Christian Statesman by the stress of life so overborne When weakest he has strongest proved, for he has overcome Therabid hosts of Prejudice. and Rancour has made dumb, When he came Lack to his own roof, stricken by Fate's fell darts, Pwas then our splendid countryman came home to all our hearts Censors and critics then forgot their censure and their spleen All they remembered was how great an Englishman he'd been The winds of Controversy dre that Tad sound him sacked Toa great silence all the cries of party strife were hushed The smoke of battle disappeared, the mists dispersed afar, And from its firmament of faith his soul shone like a star.
And so the close came slowly on till, at the dawn of day, His spirit, faithful unto death, passed peacefully away And he, whom some had feared and some Had hated in the past, Died, as became so pure a soul, beloved by all at last.
Died, as became the people's guide and champion and friend, Api untitled Englishman, nucha wr to the end Assured of this proud epitaph—what nobler can we pen "He only lived to labour for and help his fellow men."
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.