« PreviousContinue »
Brother, we sing thee the song of death,
The bow shall be placed by thy side,
To the Country of the Dead
By bridges narrow-wall'a
Safely may our Brother pass !
Safely may he reach the fields,
The Spirits of thy Sires
Shall come to welcome thee;
Brother we pay thee the rites of death,
RECANTATION, Illustratell in the STORY of the MAD OX.
By S. T. COLERIDGE.
An Ox, long fed with musty hay,
And work'd with yoke and chain, Was turn'd out on an April day, When fields are in their best array, And growing grasses sparkle gay,
At once' with sun and rain.
The grass was fine, the sun was bright,
With truth I may aver it ;
Much like a beast of spirit.
Stop, neighbours ! stop! why these alarms?
“ The Ox is only glad.". But still they pour from cots and farms Halloo ! the Parish is
in arms (A hoaxing hunt has always charms)
Hallo0! THE Ox is MAD.
The frighted beast scamper'd about,
Plunge! thro' the hedge he drove.
He's mad, he's mad, by Jove !
“Stop, neighbours, stop !" aloud did call
of sober hue.
« And damme! who are you?”
Ah hapless sage! his ears they stun,
And curse him o'er and o'er" You bloody-minded dog !" (cries one) " To slit your windpipe were good fun* 'Od blyou
* impious son “ Of a presbyterian wre!
“ You'd have him gore the parish priest,
“ And run against the altar* You Fiend !"— The sage his warnings ceas'd, And North, and South, and West, and East, Halloo! they follow the poor beast,
Mat, Dick, Tom, Bob, and Walter,
* One of the many fine words which the most uneducated had about this time a constant opportunity of acquiring from the sermons in the pulpit, and the proclamations on the
Old Lewis, 'twas his evil day,
Stood trembling in his shoes ;
gave him his death's bruise.
The frighted beast ran on-but here,
The gospel scarce more true is-
A tear for good old Lewis.
The frighted beast ran thro' the town,
All follow'd, boy and dad, Bulldog, Parson, Shopman, Clown, The Publicans rush'd from the Crown, “Halloo ! hamstring him! cut him down !"
They drove the poor Ox mail.