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XXV

Here, he makes end; and all the fry of youth,
That stood around with serious look intense,
Close up again their gaping eyes and mouth,
Which they had opened to his eloquence,
As if their hearing were a threefold sense.
But now the current of his words is done,
And whether any fruits shall spring from thence,
In future time, with any mother's son,

It is a thing, God wot! that can be told by none.

XXVI

Now by the creeping shadows of the noon,
The hour is come to lay aside their lore;
The cheerful Pedagogue perceives it soon,
And cries, "Begone!" unto the imps, and four
Snatch their two hats and struggle for the door,
Like ardent spirits vented from a cask,

All blithe and boisterous, but leave two more,
With Reading made Uneasy for a task,

To weep, whilst all their mates in merry sunshine bask,

XXVII

Like sportive Elfins, on the verdant sod,
With tender moss so sleekly overgrown,
That doth not hurt, but kiss, the sole unshod,
So soothly kind is Erin to her own!
And one, at Hare and Hound, plays all alone,-
For Phelim's gone to tend his step-dame's cow;
Ah! Phelim's step-dame is a canker'd crone !
Whilst other twain play at an Irish row,

And, with shillelah small, break one another's brow!

XXVIII

But careful Dominie, with ceaseless thrift,
Now changeth ferula for rural hoe;

But, first of all, with tender hand doth shift
His college gown, because of solar glow,
And hangs it on a bush, to scare the crow:
Meanwhile, he plants in earth the dappled bean,
Or trains the young potatoes all a-row,

Or plucks the fragrant leek for pottage green, With that crisp curly herb, call'd Kale in Aberdeen.

XXIX

And so he wisely spends the fruitful hours,
Linked each to each by labour, like a bee;

Or rules in Learning's hall, or trims her bow'rs ;—
Would there were many more such wights as he,
To sway each capital academie

Of Cam and Isis; for, alack! at each

There dwells, I wot, some dronish Dominie, That does no garden work, nor yet doth teach, But wears a floury head, and talks in flow'ry speech!

FAITHLESS NELLY GRAY

A PATHETIC BALLAD

BEN BATTLE was a soldier bold,
And used to war's alarms;
But a cannon-ball took off his legs,
So he laid down his arms!

Now as they bore him off the field,
Said he, "Let others shoot,
For here I leave my second leg,
And the Forty-second Foot!"

The army-surgeons made him limbs:
Said he, "They're only pegs :
But there's as wooden members quite,
As represent my legs!"

Now Ben he loved a pretty maid,
Her name was Nelly Gray;
So he went to pay her his devours,
When he'd devour'd his pay!

But when he called on Nelly Gray,
She made him quite a scoff;
And when she saw his wooden legs,
Began to take them off!

"O, Nelly Gray! O, Nelly Gray!
Is this your love so warm?
The love that loves a scarlet coat
Should be more uniform!"

Said she, "I loved a soldier once,
For he was blithe and brave;
But I will never have a man

With both legs in the grave!

Before you had those timber toes,
Your love I did allow,

But then, you know, you stand upon
Another footing now!"

"O, Nelly Gray! O, Nelly Gray!
For all your jeering speeches,

At duty's call, I left my legs
In Badajos's breaches!"

"Why, then," said she, "you've lost the feet

Of legs in war's alarms,

And now you cannot wear your shoes
Upon your feats of arms!"

"O, false and fickle Nelly Gray!

I know why you refuse :

Though I've no feet-some other man

Is standing in my shoes!

"I wish I ne'er had seen your face;
But, now, a long farewell!
For you will be my death :-alas !
You will not be my Nell!"

Now when he went from Nelly Gray,
His heart so heavy got-

And life was such a burthen grown,
It made him take a knot!

So round his melancholy neck
A rope he did entwine,
And, for his second time in life,
Enlisted in the Line!

One end he tied around a beam,
And then removed his pegs,
And, as his legs were off,-of course,
He soon was off his legs!

And there he hung, till he was dead
As any nail in town,-

For though distress had cut him up,
It could not cut him down!

A dozen men sat on his corpse,

To find out why he died—

And they buried Ben in four cross-roads, With a stake in his inside!

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