I said . ' `` I sacrifice to my dead youth , '' he answered , and , when the flames had consumed the letter , he ground them out with his heel . Then we rode back to that Wall of which we were to be Captains . ' Parnesius stopped . The children sat still , not even asking if that were all the tale . Puck beckoned , and pointed the way out of the wood . ` Sorry , ' he whispered , ` but you must go now . ' ` We have n't made him angry , have we ? ' said Una . ` He looks so far off , and -- and -- thinky . ' ` Bless your heart , no . Wait till tomorrow . It wo n't be long . Remember , you 've been playing Lays of Ancient Rome . ' And as soon as they had scrambled through their gap where Oak , Ash , and Thorn grew , that was all they remembered . A SONG TO MITHRAS Mithras , God of the Morning , our trumpets waken the Wall ! ` Rome is above the Nations , but Thou art over all ! ' Now as the names are answered , and the guards are marched away , Mithras , also a soldier , give us strength for the day ! Mithras , God of the Noontide , the heather swims in the heat , Our helmets scorch our foreheads , our sandals burn our feet . Now in the ungirt hour ; now ere we blink and drowse , Mithras , also a soldier , keep us true to our vows !
XXXXX , God of the Sunset , low on the Western main , Thou descending immortal , immortal to rise again !
Ash Mithras Morning Noontide Parnesius Puck Rome Thorn Una burn