mendo spiritum meum: Domine, recipe spiritum meum.' And after, repeated this latter part often in English, Lord, Lord, receive my spirit;" master Latimer crying as vehemently on the other side, 'O Father of heaven, receive my soul !' who received the flame as it were embracing of it. After that he had stroked his face with his hands, and as it were bathed them a little in the fire, he soon died (as it appeareth) with very little pain or none. And thus much concerning the end of this old and blessed servant of God, master Latimer, for whose laborious travails, fruitful life, and constant death, the whole realm hath cause to give great thanks to Almighty God.

But master Ridley, by reason of the evil making of the fire unto him, because the wooden faggots were laid about the gorse, and over-high built, the fire burned first beneath, being kept down by the wood; which when he felt, he desired them for Christ's sake to let the fire come unto him. Which when his brother-in-law heard, but not well understood, intending to rid him out of his pain (for the which cause he gave attendance,) as one in such sorrow not well advised what he did, heaped faggots upon him, so that he clean covered him, which made the fire more vehement beneath, that it burned clean all his nether parts, before it once touched the upper; and that made him leap up and down under the faggots, and often desire them to let the fire come unto him, saying, 'I cannot burn.' Which indeed appeared well; for, after his legs were consumed by reason of his struggling through the pain (whereof he had no release, but only his contentation in God,) he showed that side toward us clean, shirt and all untouched with flame. Yet in all this torment he forgot not to call unto God still, having in his mouth, Lord, have mercy upon me!' intermingling his cry, 'Let the fire come unto me: I cannot burn.' In which pangs he laboured till one of the standers-by with his bill pulled off the faggots above, and where he saw the fire flame up, he wrested himself unto that side. And when the flame touched the gunpowder, he was seen to stir no more, but burned on the other side, falling down at master Latimer's feet; which, some said, happened by reason that the chain loosed; others said, that he fell over the chain by reason of the poise of his body, and the weakness of the nether limbs.

"Some said, that before he was like to fall from the stake, he desired them to hold him to it with their bills. However it was, surely it moved hundreds to tears, in beholding the horrible sight; for I think there was none that had not clean exiled all humanity and mercy, which would not have lamented to behold the fury of the fire so to rage upon their bodies."]

I.

'Tis good to sing of champions old

The honour and renown;

To tell how truth and loyalty

Have saved an earthly crown.

But shame to us, if on the day
When higher themes are given--

When man's device and man's decree
Usurp the word of Heaven-
We dare forget the nobler names
Of those who vanquished death,
To keep unstained, from sire to son,
Our freedom and our faith!

II.

We bend the knee and bow the head
Upon the Christmas morn,

In token that, for sinful men,

The Saviour, Christ, was born.
Nor less, unto the faithful heart,
That time must hallowed be,

On which our Lord and Master died
In anguish on the tree;

And Easter brings its holy hymn,
Its triumph o'er the grave,
When He, the dead, arose in might,
Omnipotent to save.

III.

We worship as our fathers did,
In this our English home,
Not asking grace from mortal man
Nor craving leave from Rome.
Once more the warning note is heard,
The hour of strife is near-

What seeks he, with his mitred pomp,
That rank Italian, here?

What sought they in the former days,
When last that mission came?

The will, the craft, the creed of Rome
Remain for aye the same!

IV.

Woe, woe to those who dared to dream
That England might be free;
That Papal power and Papal rule
Were banished o'er the sea;
That he who sate in Peter's chair,
Had lost the will to harm,
Was powerless as a withered crone
Who works by spell and charm!
Woe, woe to those who dared deny
The Roman Pontiff's sway!
His red right arm is bared in wrath,
To smite, and burn, and slay!

V.

Light up, light up the ready fires!
Sound trumpet, fife, and drum ;
Give welcome meet to him who brings
The sovereign hests of Rome.
No humble barefoot messenger-
No sandalled monk is he;
A stately priest-a Cardinal—
Proclaims the Pope's decree.
And see! upon her royal knees
The Queen of England falls,
In homage to a mightier Prince,
Within her fathers' halls!

VI.

'Tis done. Fair England! bow thy head, And mourn thy grievous sin!

What though the Universal Church

Will gladly let thee in?

The stain is still upon thy brow,

The guilt is on thy hand;

For thou hast dared to worship God,

Against the Pope's command.

And thou hast scoffed at saint and shrine,

Denied the Queen of Heaven,

And opened up with impious hands

The Holy Book unshriven.

XI.

The Host was raised-they knelt not yet-
Nor English knee was bowed,
Till Latimer and Ridley came,

Each in his penance-shroud.
Then bent the throng on either side,
Then knelt both sire and dame,
And thousand voices, choked with sobs,
Invoked the martyr's name.

No chaunted hymn could drown the cry,
No tramp, nor clash of steel-
O England! in that piteous hour,
Was this thy sole appeal?

XII.

What more? That cry arose on high; 'Twas heard, where all is calm, By Him who, for the martyr's pang, Vouchsafes the martyr's palm; By Him who needs no human arm To work his righteous will:"The LORD is in his holy place,

Let all the earth be still."

They said it-they who gave the doom,
In that most awful name-

And if they spoke in blasphemy,

So shall they die in shame!

XIII.

To death--to death! The stake is near,
The faggots piled around;

The men-at-arms have made their ring,

The spearmen take their ground;

The torches, reeking in the sun,

Send up their heavy fume;

And by the pile the torturer

Is waiting for the doom.

With earnest eye and steadfast step,

Approach the martyr twain

"Our cross!" they said-then kissed the stake,

And bowed them to the chain.

XIV.

Short be the pang!-Not yet, not yet!
The Tempter lingers near-

Rome parts not with her victims so ;
A Priest is at their ear.

"Life-life, and pardon! say the word,
Why still so stubborn be?

Do homage to our Lord the Pope-
One word, and you are free!
O brothers! yield ye even now—
Speak but a single name-

Salvation lies not but with Rome;
Why die in raging flame?"

XV.

Then out spoke aged Latimer :-
"I tarry by the stake,

Not trusting to my own weak heart,
But for the Saviour's sake.

Why speak of life or death to me,
Whose days are but a span ?
Our crown is yonder-Ridley-see!
Be strong, and play the man.
God helping, such a torch this day
We'll light on English land,
That Rome and all her Cardinals
Shall never quench the brand!"

XVI.

They died. O ask not how they died!
May never witness tell,

That once again on English ground
Was wrought that deed of hell!
The Consul, mad for Christian blood,
Even in his deadliest rage,

Was human when he opened up

The famished lion's cage

More human far than they of Rome,
Who claimed the Christian name,
When those, the ministers of Christ,
Were writhing in the flame!

XVII.

Harlot of Rome! and dost thou come
With bland demeanour now?
The bridal-smile upon thy lips,
The flush upon thy brow-
The cup of sorcery in thy hand,
Still in the same array,

As when our fathers in their wrath
Dashed it and thee away?

No! by the ashes of the saints,

Who died beneath thy hand,

Thou shalt not dare to claim as thine
One foot of English land!

XVIII.

The echo of thy tread shall make
The light still higher burn-

A blaze shall rise from Cranmer's grave
And martyred Ridley's urn!

A blaze which they who own thy power
Shall stand aghast to see,

A blaze that in your infamy

Shall show both them and thee!

Yes! send thy Cardinals again—

Once more array thy powers

Their watchword is, The Pope of Rome-
The Word of God, be ours!

W. E. A.