The chase had gain'd a mile A-head, and still the she-mare stood a-drinking; Now, all the while Her body didn't take of course to shrinking. Says I, she's letting out her reefs, I'm thinking-- And so she swell'd, and swell'd, And yet the tackle held, 'Till both my legs began to bend like winkin. My eyes! but she took in enough to founder! And there's my timbers straining every bit, Ready to split, And her tarnation hull a-growing rounder! Well, there--off Hertford Ness, We lay both lash'd and water-logg'd together, And can't contrive a signal of distress; Thinks I, we must ride out this here foul weather, Tho' sick of riding out--and nothing less; When, looking round, I sees a man a-starn:-- Hollo! says I, come underneath her quarter!-- And hands him out my knife to cut the yarn. So I gets off, and lands upon the road, And leaves the she-mare to her own consarn, A-standing by the water. If I get on another, I'll be blow'd!-- And that's the way, you see, my legs got bow'd! THE VOLUNTEER. "The clashing of my armor in my ears Sounds like a passing bell; my buckler puts me In mind of a bier; this, my broadsword, a pickaxe To dig my grave." THE LOVER'S PROGRESS. I. 'Twas in that memorable year France threaten'd to put off in Flat-bottom'd boats, intending each To be a British coffin, To make sad widows of our wives, And every babe an orphan:-- II. When coats were made of scarlet cloaks, And heads were dredg'd with flour, I listed in the Lawyer's Corps, Against the battle hour; A perfect Volunteer--for why? I brought my "will and pow'r." III. One dreary day--a day of dread, Like Cato's, over-cast-- About the hour of six, (the morn And I were breaking fast,) There came a loud and sudden sound, That struck me all aghast! IV. A dismal sort of morning roll, That was not to be eaten; Although it was no skin of mine, But parchment that was beaten, I felt tattooed through all my flesh, Like any Otaheitan. V. My jaws with utter dread enclos'd The morsel I was munching, And terror lock'd them up so tight, My very teeth went crunching All through my bread and tongue at once, Like sandwich made at lunching. VI. My hand that held the tea-pot fast, Stiffen'd, but yet unsteady, Kept pouring, pouring, pouring o'er The cup in one long eddy, Till both my hose were marked with _tea_, As they were mark'd already. VII. I felt my visage turn from red To white--from cold to hot; But it was nothing wonderful My color changed, I wot, For, like some variable silks, I felt that I was shot. VIII. And looking forth with anxious eye, From my snug upper story, I saw our melancholy corps, Going to beds all gory; The pioneers seem'd very loth To axe their way to glory. IX. The captain march'd as mourners march, The ensign too seem'd lagging, And many more, although they were No ensigns, took to flagging-- Like corpses in the Serpentine, Methought they wanted dragging. X.