Page 315 (1/2)

IN WHICH THE STORY OF THE CAPTIVE IS CONTINUED

SONNET

"Blest souls, that, frouerdon of brave deeds beatified,

Above this lowly orb of ours abide

Made heirs of heaven and i ye

Your strength, while strength was yours, in battle plied,

And with your own blood and the foe sea

It was the ebbing life-blood first that failed

The weary arh vanquished, yet ye earned the victor's crown:

Though mourned, yet still triumphant was your fall

For there ye won, between the sword and wall,

In Heaven glory and on earth renown"

"That is it exactly, according to my recollection," said the captive

"Well then, that on the fort," said the gentleoes thus:

SONNET

"Up from this wasted soil, this shattered shell,

Whose walls and towers here in ruin lie,

Three thousand soldier souls took wing on high,

In the bright ht of the foeht of arth 'twas left them but to die,

Wearied and few the last defenders fell

And this same arid soil hath ever been

A haunt of countless mournful memories,

As well in our day as in days of yore

But never yet to Heaven it sent, I ween,

From its hard bosom purer souls than these,

Or braver bodies on its surface bore"

The sonnets were not disliked, and the captive was rejoiced at the

tidings they gave hi his tale, he went on

to say:

The Goletta and the fort being thus in their hands, the Turks gave orders

to dismantle the Goletta--for the fort was reduced to such a state that