. The poetical works of Thomas Hood. With a memoir of the author ... et those that have no homes at allGo battle for a long mirror here confirmed me thisReflection, by a strong one. For there, where I was wont to shave, And deck me like Adonis, There stood the leader of our foes. With vultures for bis cronies,— No Corsican, but Death himself. The Bony of all Bonies. A horri4 sight it was, and sad To see the grisly chap Put on my crimson livery. And then begin to clap My helmet on,—ah me ! it felt Like any felons cap. My plume seemed borrowed from a undertakers crest ;My epaul
. The poetical works of Thomas Hood. With a memoir of the author ... et those that have no homes at allGo battle for a long mirror here confirmed me thisReflection, by a strong one. For there, where I was wont to shave, And deck me like Adonis, There stood the leader of our foes. With vultures for bis cronies,— No Corsican, but Death himself. The Bony of all Bonies. A horri4 sight it was, and sad To see the grisly chap Put on my crimson livery. And then begin to clap My helmet on,—ah me ! it felt Like any felons cap. My plume seemed borrowed from a undertakers crest ;My epaulettes like coffin-platesMy belt so heavy pipe-clay cross-roads seemed to lieAt once upon my breast. My brazen breast-plate only lacked A little heap of salt. To make me like a corpse full dressed. Preparing for the vault,— To set up what the Poet calls My everlastmg halt. This funeral show inclined me quite To peace :—and here I am 1 While better lions go to war. Enjoying with the lamb A lengthened life, that might have been A martial THE DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM, 273 THE DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM. *TwAS in the prime of summer time. An evening calm and cool,And four-and-twenty happy boys Came bounding out of school :There were some that ran and somethat leapt, Like troutlets in a pool. Away they sped with gamesomeminds. And souls untouchd by sin ;To a level mead they came, and there They drave the wickets in :Pleasantly shone the setting sun Over the town of Lynn. Like sportive deer they coursed about. And shouted as they ran,—Turning to mirth all things of earth. As only boyhood can ;But the Usher sat remote from all, A melancholy man I His hat was off, his vest catch heavens blessed breeze ; For a burning thought was in his his bosom ill at ease : So he leanM his head on his hands, andreadThe book between his knees I Leaf after leaf he turnd it oer. Nor ever glanced the peace of his soul he read thatbook In the golden eventi
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