_ O thankless
beldames
and untrue!
Coleridge - Poems
_ Who bade you do't?
_Fire. _ The same! the same!
Letters four do form his name.
He let me loose, and cried Halloo!
To him alone the praise is due.
_All. _ He let us loose, and cried Halloo!
How shall we yield him honour due?
_Fam. _ Wisdom comes with lack of food.
I'll gnaw, I'll gnaw the multitude,
Till the cup of rage o'erbrim:
They shall seize him and his brood--
_Slau. _ They shall tear him limb from limb!
_Fire.
_ O thankless beldames and untrue!
And is this all that you can do
For him, who did so much for you?
Ninety months he, by my troth!
Hath richly catered for you both;
And in an hour would you repay
An eight years' work? --Away! away!
I alone am faithful! I
Cling to him everlastingly.
1797.
THE TWO ROUND SPACES ON THE TOMBSTONE
The Devil believes that the Lord will come,
Stealing a march without beat of drum,
About the same time that he came last
On an old Christmas-day in a snowy blast:
Till he bids the trump sound neither body nor soul stirs
For the dead men's heads have slipt under their bolsters.
Ho! ho! brother Bard, in our churchyard
Both beds and bolsters are soft and green;
Save one alone, and that's of stone,
And under it lies a Counsellor keen.
This tomb would be square, if it were not too long;
And 'tis rail'd round with iron, tall, spear-like, and strong.
This fellow from Aberdeen hither did skip
With a waxy face and a blubber lip,
And a black tooth in front to show in part
What was the colour of his whole heart.
This Counsellor sweet,
This Scotchman complete
(The Devil scotch him for a snake!
_Fire. _ The same! the same!
Letters four do form his name.
He let me loose, and cried Halloo!
To him alone the praise is due.
_All. _ He let us loose, and cried Halloo!
How shall we yield him honour due?
_Fam. _ Wisdom comes with lack of food.
I'll gnaw, I'll gnaw the multitude,
Till the cup of rage o'erbrim:
They shall seize him and his brood--
_Slau. _ They shall tear him limb from limb!
_Fire.
_ O thankless beldames and untrue!
And is this all that you can do
For him, who did so much for you?
Ninety months he, by my troth!
Hath richly catered for you both;
And in an hour would you repay
An eight years' work? --Away! away!
I alone am faithful! I
Cling to him everlastingly.
1797.
THE TWO ROUND SPACES ON THE TOMBSTONE
The Devil believes that the Lord will come,
Stealing a march without beat of drum,
About the same time that he came last
On an old Christmas-day in a snowy blast:
Till he bids the trump sound neither body nor soul stirs
For the dead men's heads have slipt under their bolsters.
Ho! ho! brother Bard, in our churchyard
Both beds and bolsters are soft and green;
Save one alone, and that's of stone,
And under it lies a Counsellor keen.
This tomb would be square, if it were not too long;
And 'tis rail'd round with iron, tall, spear-like, and strong.
This fellow from Aberdeen hither did skip
With a waxy face and a blubber lip,
And a black tooth in front to show in part
What was the colour of his whole heart.
This Counsellor sweet,
This Scotchman complete
(The Devil scotch him for a snake!
