Story copied from the Wikisource. The vicar sat in the firelight’s glow,A volume in his hand,And a tear he shed for the widespread woe,And the anguish brought by the vicious foeThat overran the land. But never a hand for his King raised he,For he was a man of peace;And he car’d not a whit for the victoryThat must come to preserve his nation free,And the world from fear release. His son had buckled on his sword,The first at the front was he.But the vicar his valiant child ignor’dAnd his noble deeds in the field deplor’d,For he knew not bravery.