With daddles high upraised, and nob held back, [1] In awful prescience of the impending thwack, Both kiddies stood--and with prelusive spar, [2] And light manoeuvring, kindled up the war! The One, in bloom of youth--a light-weight blade-- The Other, vast, gigantic, as if made, Express, by Nature, for the hammering trade; [3] But aged, slow, with stiff limbs, tottering much, And lungs, that lack'd the bellows-mender's touch. Yet, sprightly to the scratch, both Buffers came, [4] While ribbers rung from each resounding frame, And divers digs, and many a ponderous pelt, Were on their broad bread-baskets heard and felt. [5] With roving aim, but aim that rarely miss'd Round lugs and ogles flew the frequent fist; [6] While showers of facers told so deadly well, That the crush'd jaw-bones crackled as they fell! But firmly stood Entellus--and still bright, Though bent by age, with all the Fancy's light, [7] Stopp'd with a skill, and rallied with a fire The immortal Fancy could alone inspire! While Dares, shifting round, with looks of thought. An opening to the cove's huge carcass sought (Like General Preston, in that awful hour, When on one leg he hopp'd to--take the Tower!), And here, and there, explored with active fin, And skilful feint, some guardless pass to win, And prove a boring guest when once let in. And now Entellus, with an eye that plann'd Punishing deeds, high raised his heavy hand; But ere the sledge came down, young Dares spied Its shadow o'er his brow, and slipped aside-- So nimbly slipp'd, that the vain nobber pass'd Through empty air; and He, so high, so vast, Who dealt the stroke, came thundering to the ground!-- Not B-ck--gh-m himself, with balkier sound, Uprooted from the field of Whiggist glories, Fell souse, of late, among the astonish'd Tories! Instant the ring was broke, and shouts and yells From Trojan Flashmen and Sicilian Swells Fill'd the wide heaven--while, touch'd with grief to see His pall, well-known through many a lark and spree, [8] Thus rumly floor'd, the kind Ascestes ran, [9] And pitying rais'd from earth the game old man. Uncow'd, undamaged to the sport he came, His limbs all muscle, and his soul all flame. The memory of his milling glories past, [10] The shame that aught but death should see him grass'd. All fired the veteran's pluck--with fury flush'd, Full on his light-limb'd customer he rush'd,-- And hammering right and left, with ponderous swing [11] Ruffian'd the reeling youngster round the ring-- Nor rest, nor pause, nor breathing-time was given But, rapid as the rattling hail from heaven Beats on the house-top, showers of Randall's shot Around the Trojan's lugs fell peppering hot! 'Till now Aeneas, fill'd with anxious dread, Rush'd in between them, and, with words well-bred, Preserved alike the peace and Dares' head, Both which the veteran much inclined to break--