In the woods of the North there are insects that prey
On the brain of the elk till his very last sigh;[2]
Oh, Genius! thy patrons, more cruel than they,
First feed on thy brains and then leave thee to die!
[1] The sum was two hundred pounds--offered when Sheridan could no longer
take any sustenance, and declined, for him, by his friends.
[2] Naturalists have observed that, upon dissecting an elk, there was
found in its head some large flies, with its brain almost eaten away by
them,--_History of Poland_.
EPISTLE FROM TOM CRIB TO BIG BEN.[1]
CONCERNING SOME FOUL PLAY IN A LATE TRANSACTION.[2]
_"Ahi, mio Ben!"_
--METASTASIO.[3]
What! BEN, my old hero, is this your renown?
Is _this_ the new _go_?--kick a man when he's down!
When the foe has knockt under, to tread on him then--
By the fist of my father, I blush for thee, BEN!
"Foul! foul!" all the lads of the Fancy exclaim--
CHARLEY SHOCK is electrified--BELCHER spits flame--
And MOLYNEUX--ay, even BLACKY[4] cries "shame!"
Time was, when JOHN BULL little difference spied
'Twixt the foe at his feet and the friend at his side:
When he found (such his humor in fighting and eating)
His foe, like his beef-steak, the sweeter for beating.
But this comes, Master BEN, of your curst foreign notions,
Your trinkets, wigs, thingumbobs, gold lace and lotions;
Your Noyaus, Curacoas, and the devil knows what--
(One swig of _Blue Ruin_[5] is worth the whole lot!)
Your great and small _crosses_--my eyes, what a brood!
(A _cross_-buttock from _me_ would do some of them good!)
Which have spoilt you, till hardly a drop, my old porpoise,
Of pure English _claret_ is left in your _corpus_;
And (as JIM says) the only one trick, good or bad,
Of the Fancy you're up to, is _fibbing_, my lad.
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