despot and the volunteer, Exacts with fines obedience to my laws, And for his music, too, exacts applause.
The Adorner of the uncomely—those Amidst whose tall battalions goes Her pretty person out and in All day with an endearing din, Of censure and encouragement; And when all else is tried in vain See her sit down and weep again. She weeps to conquer; She varies on her grenadiers From satire up to girlish tears!
Or rather to behold her when She plies for me the unresting pen, And when the loud assault of squalls Resounds upon the roof and walls, And the low thunder growls and I Raise my dictating voice on high.
What glory for a boy of ten Who now must three gigantic men And two enormous, dapple grey New Zealand pack-horses array And lead, and wisely resolute Our daylong business execute In the far shoreside town. His soul Glows in his bosom like a coal; His innocent eyes glitter again, And his hand trembles on the rein. Once he reviews his whole command, And chivalrously planting hand On hip—a borrowed attitude— Rides off downhill into the wood.