. The book of ballads . THE BOOK OF BALLADS. 197 ClfB SnHntittinn. Brother, thou art very weary, And thine eye is sunk and dim,And thy neckcloths tie is cnimpled, And thy collar out of trim;There is dust upon thy visage,— Think not, Charles, I would hurt ye,WTien I say that, altogether, You appear extremely dirty. i Frown not, brother, now, but hie thee To thy chambers distant room;Drown the odours of the ledger With the lavenders the mud from off thy trowsers. Oer the cliina basin thy brows in water softened With the soap of Old

---

Size: 1652px × 1512px
Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No

Keywords: ., bookauthormartintheodoresir1816, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1840