I think with Alexander, that the act Of eating, with another act or two, Makes us feel our mortality in fact Redoubled; when a roast and a ragout, And fish, and soup, by some side dishes backed, Can give us either pain or pleasure, who Would pique himself on intellects, whose use Depends so much upon the gastric juice? XXXIII. The other evening ('t was on Friday last)-- This is a fact, and no poetic fable-- Just as my great coat was about me cast, My hat and gloves still lying on the table, I heard a shot--'t was eight o'clock scarce past-- And, running out as fast as I was able,[279] I found the military commandant Stretched in the street, and able scarce to pant. XXXIV. Poor fellow! for some reason, surely bad, They had slain him with five slugs; and left him there To perish on the pavement: so I had Him borne into the house and up the stair, And stripped, and looked to[ex]----But why should I add More circumstances? vain was every care; The man was gone--in some Italian quarrel Killed by five bullets from an old gun-barrel. XXXV. I gazed upon him, for I knew him well; And though I have seen many corpses, never Saw one, whom such an accident befell, So calm; though pierced through stomach, heart, and liver, He seemed to sleep,--for you could scarcely tell (As he bled inwardly, no hideous river Of gore divulged the cause) that he was dead: So as I gazed on him, I thought or said-- XXXVI. "Can this be Death? then what is Life or Death? Speak!" but he spoke not: "wake!" but still he slept:-- "But yesterday and who had mightier breath? A thousand warriors by his word were kept In awe: he said, as the Centurion saith, 'Go,' and he goeth; 'come,' and forth he stepped. The trump and bugle till he spake were dumb-- And now nought left him but the muffled drum."[ey] XXXVII. And they who waited once and worshipped--they With their rough faces thronged about the bed To gaze once more on the commanding clay Which for the last, though not the first, time bled; And such an end! that he who many a day Had faced Napoleon's foes until they fled,-- The foremost in the charge or in the sally, Should now be butchered in a civic alley. XXXVIII. The scars of his old wounds were near his new, Those honourable scars which brought him fame; And horrid was the contrast to the view---- But let me quit the theme; as such things claim Perhaps even more attention than is due From me: I gazed (as oft I have gazed the same) To try if I could wrench aught out of Death Which should confirm, or shake, or make a faith; XXXIX.