HANCOCK.-On the 13th July, killed in action at Bethlehem, South Africa, Calverley Trevelyan Hancock, of the Imperial Yeomanry and Christ Church, Oxford, second son of Prebendary and Mrs. Hancock of the Priory, Dunster, aged 21.
CALVERLEY TREVELYAN HANCOCK.
BORN April 18th, 1879. Entered the School April 28th, 1893. Appointed Prefect September 22nd, 1897. Entered at Christ Church October 1898. Killed in action at Bethlehem, South Africa, Friday, July 13th, 1900.
Such is the bare record of our Fasti: and how much lies behind it? Not, perhaps, an extended list of prizes or of caps, by which we are too apt to measure distinction; but the affection and gratitude of those who knew him, the continued influence in the School of his efforts and example. It would be easy to illustrate the hold that
Radley kept on his life and thoughts; he constantly spoke at home of his interests and affections here. He took back with him copies of one or two of his favourite anthems. One of them was the anthem actually put down for the Sunday when we were thinking of his loss: “The radiant morn bath passed away.” The hymn sung was No. 438.
The Warden said that it was presumptuous to try and understand the mystery of loss; but he could not help being impressed with the fact that the two Prefects whom he had seen called suddenly away – one here, one elsewhere – were those of whose influence he had had clearest and most unmistakable proof. This was not said merely as a tribute to the dead, when feeling was strained and words might be exaggerated. He had nothing to add to words which he had spoken and written before the war was dreamed of: and he knew he was speaking to some who were certain that they were better than they would have been if they had not been permitted to know Hancock as a friend.
N0, not in vain the life, though spent
Ere its full tide was well begun;
It lives still with us, eloquent
Of duty done.
Not lightly prodigal of life,
Or drawing but a heedless breath,
But counting well the cost of strife,
He challenged death.
Nor yet by fame or fashion stirred,
Nor hotly on adventure bent;
But duty seemed to call: he heard
The call and went.
What though cut short his flower of age,
Though here the race continue not?
The life stands fast, a written page
Fair without blot.