The curtain falls, as ends the play, And all the audience go away; And did the piece give satisfaction? Methinks they found it of attraction. A much-respected public then Its poet thankfully commended; But now the house is hush’d again, And lights and merriment are ended. But hark to that dull heavy clang Hard by the empty stage’s middle! It was perchance the bursting twang Of the worn string of some old fiddle. With rustling noise across the pit Some nasty rats like shadows flit, And rancid oil all places smell of, And the last lamp, with groans and sighs Despairing, then goes out and dies.-- My soul was this poor light I tell of. 19. THE WILL. Now that life is nearly spent, Here’s my will and testament, Giving every foe a present, As a Christian finds it pleasant: Let these gentry full of merit Have my sickness as their guerdon, All that makes my life a burden,-- All my wretched pangs inherit. I bequeath you all the colic Which my belly tweaks in frolic,-- Strangury and these perfidious Prussian piles so sharp and hideous. Unto you my cramps be given, Pains in joints, and salivation, Pains in back, and inflammation,-- Every one the gift of heaven. Let this codicil then follow:-- Lord! that wretched herd demolish, And their very name abolish, As they in their vileness wallow. 20. ENFANT PERDU. Forlorn posts leading, thirty long years fought I Stoutly and well on freedom’s battle plain; Hopeless of triumph, never hoped or thought I Safe and uninjured home to see again. I watch’d both day and night, slept not a tittle, As when I camp’d amongst my friends of yore; (And if I felt inclined to doze a little, I soon was waken’d by my neighbour’s snore.) In those long nights ennui would oft assail me, And fear as well,--(’tis fools who never fear;) To scare them, I delighted to regale me With whistling songs all full of gibe and jeer. Yes, watchfully I stood, my weapon grasping,-- If a suspicious looking fool drew nigh, I took a careful aim, and laid him gasping With a hot bullet in his paunch or thigh. But by-and-by, if I may so express it, This clumsy fool, whom I so much deride, Proves the best shot; and now, I must confess it, My blood pours forth, my wounds are gaping wide. A post is vacant! All my wounds are gaping-- One falls, the others follow in his wake; Unvanquish’d fall I,--from my hands escaping My arms break not, my heart alone doth break. _BOOK III.--HEBREW MELODIES_ O let the days of thy life pass not Without tasting life’s blisses; And if thou’rt shelter’d from the shot, Let it fly, for it misses.