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I marked them steadfast in the field.
Death grimly sided with the foe,

And smote each leaden hero low.
Proudly they perished one by one:

The dread Pea-cannon's work was done!
O not for them the tears we shed,

Consigned to their congenial lead;
But while unmoved their sleep they take,

We mourn for their dear Captain's sake,
For their dear Captain, who shall smart

Both in his pocket and his heart,
Who saw his heroes shed their gore,

And lacked a shilling to buy more!
THE GRAVER THE PEN: OR, SCENES FROM NATURE, WITH APPROPRIATE VERSES

Poem: I - PROEM
Unlike the common run of men,

I wield a double power to please,
And use the GRAVER and the PEN

With equal aptitude and ease.
I move with that illustrious crew,

The ambidextrous Kings of Art;
And every mortal thing I do

Brings ringing money in the mart.
Hence, in the morning hour, the mead,

The forest and the stream perceive
Me wandering as the muses lead -

Or back returning in the eve.
Two muses like two maiden aunts,

The engraving and the singing muse,
Follow, through all my favourite haunts,

My devious traces in the dews.
To guide and cheer me, each attends;

Each speeds my rapid task along;
One to my cuts her ardour lends,

One breathes her magic in my song.
Poem: II - THE PRECARIOUS MILL

Alone above the stream it stands,
Above the iron hill,

The topsy-turvy, tumble-down,
Yet habitable mill.

Still as the ringing saws advance
To slice the humming deal,

All day the pallid miller hears
The thunder of the wheel.

He hears the river plunge and roar
As roars the angry mob;

He feels the solid building quake,
The trusty timbers throb.

All night beside the fire he cowers:
He hears the rafters jar:

O why is he not in a proper house
As decent people are!

The floors are all aslant, he sees,
The doors are all a-jam;

And from the hook above his head
All crooked swings the ham.

'Alas,' he cries and shakes his head,
'I see by every sign,

There soon all be the deuce to pay,
With this estate of mine.'

Poem: III - THE DISPUTATIOUS PINES
The first pine to the second said:

'My leaves are black, my branches red;
I stand upon this moor of mine,

A hoar, unconquerable pine.'
The second sniffed and answered: 'Pooh!

I am as good a pine as you.'
'Discourteous tree,' the first replied,

'The tempest in my boughs had cried,
The hunter slumbered in my shade,

A hundred years ere you were made.'
The second smiled as he returned:

'I shall be here when you are burned.'
So far dissension ruled the pair,

Each turned on each a frowning air,
When flickering from the bank anigh,

A flight of martens met their eye.
Sometime their course they watched; and then -

They nodded off to sleep again.
Poem: IV - THE TRAMPS

Now long enough had day endured,
Or King Apollo Palinured,

Seaward he steers his panting team,
And casts on earth his latest gleam.

But see! the Tramps with jaded eye
Their destined provinces espy.

Long through the hills their way they took,
Long camped beside the mountain brook;

'Tis over; now with rising hope
They pause upon the downward slope,

And as their aching bones they rest,
Their anxious captain scans the west.

So paused Alaric on the Alps
And ciphered up the Roman scalps.

Poem: V - THE FOOLHARDY GEOGRAPHER
The howling desert miles around,

The tinkling brook the only sound -
Wearied with all his toils and feats,

The traveller dines on potted meats;
On potted meats and princely wines,

Not wisely but too well he dines.
The brindled Tiger loud may roar,

High may the hovering Vulture soar;
Alas! regardless of them all,

Soon shall the empurpled glutton sprawl -
Soon, in the desert's hushed repose,

Shall trumpettidings through his nose!
Alack, unwise! that nasal song

Shall be the Ounce's dinner-gong!
A blemish in the cut appears;

Alas! it cost both blood and tears.
The glancing graver swerved aside,

Fast flowed the artist's vital tide!
And now the apologetic bard

Demands indulgence for his pard!
Poem: VI - THE ANGLER AND THE CLOWN

The echoing bridge you here may see,
The pouring lynn, the waving tree,

The eager angler fresh from town -
Above, the contumelious clown.

The angler plies his line and rod,
The clodpole stands with many a nod, -

With many a nod and many a grin,
He sees him cast his engine in.

'What have you caught?' the peasant cries.
'Nothing as yet,' the Fool replies.

MORAL TALES
Poem: I - ROBIN AND BEN: OR, THE PIRATE AND THE APOTHECARY

Come, lend me an attentive ear
A startling moral tale to hear,

Of Pirate Rob and Chemist Ben,
And different destinies of men.

Deep in the greenest of the vales
That nestle near the coast of Wales,

The heaving main but just in view,
Robin and Ben together grew,

Together worked and played the fool,
Together shunned the Sunday school,

And pulled each other's youthful noses
Around the cots, among the roses.

Together but unlike they grew;
Robin was rough, and through and through

Bold, inconsiderate, and manly,
Like some historic Bruce or Stanley.

Ben had a mean and servile soul,
He robbed not, though he often stole.

He sang on Sunday in the choir,
And tamely capped the passing Squire.

At length, intolerant of trammels -
Wild as the wild Bithynian camels,

Wild as the wild sea-eagles - Bob
His widowed dam contrives to rob,

And thus with great originality
Effectuates his personality.

Thenceforth his terror-haunted flight
He follows through the starry night;

And with the early morning breeze,
Behold him on the azure seas.

The master of a trading dandy
Hires Robin for a go of brandy;

And all the happy hills of home
Vanish beyond the fields of foam.

Ben, meanwhile, like a tin reflector,
Attended on the worthy rector;

Opened his eyes and held his breath,
And flattered to the point of death;

And was at last, by that good fairy,
Apprenticed to the Apothecary.

So Ben, while Robin chose to roam,
A rising chemist was at home,

Tended his shop with learned air,
Watered his drugs and oiled his hair,

And gave advice to the unwary,
Like any sleek apothecary.

Meanwhile upon the deep afar
Robin the brave was waging war,

With other tarry desperadoes
About the latitude of Barbadoes.

He knew no touch of craven fear;
His voice was thunder in the cheer;

First, from the main-to'-gallan' high,
The skulking merchantmen to spy -

The first to bound upon the deck,
The last to leave the sinking wreck.

His hand was steel, his word was law,
His mates regarded him with awe.

No pirate in the whole profession
Held a more honourable position.

At length, from years of anxious toil,
Bold Robin seeks his native soil;

Wisely arranges his affairs,
And to his native dale repairs.

The Bristol SWALLOW sets him down
Beside the well-remembered town.

He sighs, he spits, he marks the scene,
Proudly he treads the village green;

And, free from pettiness and rancour,
Takes lodgings at the 'Crown and Anchor.'

Strange, when a man so great and good
Once more in his home-country stood,

Strange that the sordid clowns should show


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