LONDON, May 15, 1889.—“The promised interview with the Emperor William was granted to-day to the delegates from the coal-miners now on strike in Westphalia; but the audience lasted for only ten minutes. The men asked that the Emperor would inquire into the merits of their case and the hardships under which they suffered. His Majesty replied that he was already inquiring into the matter. He then warned the miners that he would employ all his great powers to repress socialistic agitation and intrigue. If the slightest resistance was shown he would shoot every man so offending. On the other hand, he promised to protect them if peaceable.”—_Cablegram_.
Son of a Man and grandson of a Man, Mannikin most miserable in thy shrunken shape And peevish, shrivelled-soul, is’t _thou_ wouldst ape The thunder-bearer of Fate’s blustering clan? Know, then, that never, since the years began, The terrible truth was surer of this word: “_Who takes the sword_, _shall perish by the sword_!” For mankind’s nod makes mannikin and man.
Surely it was not shed too long ago, That Emperor’s blood that stained the Northern snow, O thou King Stork aspiring that art King Log, Wild-boar that wouldst be, reeking there all hog; To teach thy brutish brainlessness to know Those who pulled down a lion can shoot a dog.
A STORY. (_For the Irish Delegates in Australia_.)
Do you want to hear a story With a nobler praise than “glory,” Of a man who loved the right like heaven and loathed the wrong like hell? Then, that story let me tell you Once again, though it as well you Know as I—the splendid story of the man they call Parnell!
By the wayside of the nations, Lashed with whips and execrations, Helpless, hopeless, bleeding, dying, she, the Maiden Nation, lay; And the burthen of dishonour Weighed so grievously upon her That her very children hid their eyes and crept in shame away.
And there as she was lying Helpless, hopeless, bleeding, dying, All her high-born foes came round her, fleering, jeering, as they said: “What is freedom fought and won for? She is dead! She’s down and done for!” And her weeping children shuddered as they crouched and whispered: “Dead!”
Then suddenly up-starting, All that throng before him parting, See, a man with firm step breaking through that central knot that gives; And, as by some dear lost sister, He knelt down, and softly kissed her, And he raised his pale, proud face, and cried: “She is not dead. She lives!