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And, ere the day, three hundred horse had met on Clifton Down. The sentinel on Whitehall gate looked forth into the night, And saw o'er hanging Richmond Hill, that streak of blood-red

light. The bugle's note, and cannon's roar, the deathlike silence broke, And with one start, and with one cry, the royal city woke; At once, on all her stately gates, arose the answering fires; At once the wild alarum clashed from all her reeling spires; From all the batteries of the Tower pealed loud the voice of fear, And all the thousands masts of Thames sent back a louder cheer: And from the farthest wards was heard the rush of hurrying feet,

[rousing street: And the broad streams of flags and pikes dashed down each And broader still became the blaze, and louder still the din, As fast from every village round tbe horse came spurring in; And eastward straight, for wild Blackheath, the warlike errand

went; And roused, in many an ancient hall, the gallant squires of Kent: Southward, for Surrey's pleasant hills, flew those bright coursers forth;

(north; High on black Hampstead's swarthy moor, they started for the And on, and on, without a pause, untired they bounded still; All night from tower to tower they sprang, all night from hill

to bill; Till the proud peak unfurled the flag o'er Derwent's rocky dales; Till, like Volcanos, flared to heaven the stormy hills of Wales; Till twelve fair counties saw the blaze on Malvern’s lonely height; Tillstreamed in crimson, on the wind, the Wrekin's crest of light; Till, broad and fierce, the star came forth, on Ely's stately fane, And town and hamlet rose in arms, o'er all the boundless plain: Till Belvoir's lordly towers the sign to Lincoln sent, And Lincoln sped the message on, o'er the wide vale of Trent; Till Skiddaw saw the fire that burnt on Gaunt's embattled pile, And the red glare on Skiddaw roused the burghers of Carlisle.




Good people all, of every sort,

Give ear unto my song;
And if you find it wondrous short,

It cannot hold you long.
In Islington there was a man,

Of whom the world might say,
That still a godly race he ran

Whene'er he went to pray.

A kind and gentle heart he had,

To comfort friends and foes;
The naked every day he clad,

When he put on his clothes.
And in that town a dog was found,

As many dogs there be,
Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,

And curs of low degree.
This dog and man at first were friends;

But when a pique began,
The dog, to gain his private ends,

Went mad, and bit the man.

Around from all the neighbouring streets

The wondering neighbours ran,
And swore the dog had lost his wits,

To bite so good a man.

The wound it seemed both sore and sad

christian eye:
And while they swore the dog was mad,

They swore the man would die.

But soon a wonder came to light,

That show'd the rogues they lied, The man recovered of the bite,

The dog it was that died.




BEN BATTLE was a soldier bold,
And used to war's alarms:
But a cannon-ball took off his legs,
So he laid down his arms!

Now as they bore him off the field,
Said he, “Let others shoot,
“For here I leave my second leg,
" And the Forty-second Foot!”
The army-surgeons made him limbs:
Said he, “ They're only pegs:
“But there's as wooden Members quite,
“As represent my legs!”
Now Ben he loved a pretty maid,
Her name was Nelly Gray;
So he went to pay her his devoirs,
When he'd devoured his pay!
But when he called on Nelly Gray,
She made him quite a scoff;
And when she saw his wooden legs,
Began to take them off!

Oh, Nelly Gray! Oh, Nelly Gray!
“Is this your love so warm?
“ The love that loves a scarlet coat
“Should be more uniform!”



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Said she “ I loved a soldier once,
“For he was blythe and brave;
“But I will never have a man
" With both legs in the grave!
· Before you had those timber toes,
“ Your love I did allow,
“ But then, you know,


“ Another footing now!”
“Oh, Nelly Gray! Oh, Nelly Gray!
“For all your jeering speeches,
“At duty's call, I left my legs,
“In Badajos's breaches!

Why then,” said she, “ you've lost the feet “Of legs in war's alarms, “And now you cannot wear your shoes “Upon your feats of arms!” “Oh, false and fickle Nelly Gray! “I know why you refuse:

Though I've no feet-some other man “Is standing in my shoes! “ I wish I ne'er had seen your face ;

But, now, a long farewell! “For you will be my death ; alas! “You will not be my Nell!. Now when he went from Nelly Gray His heart so heavy gotAnd life was such a burthen grown, It made him take a knot! So round his melancholy neck, A rope

he did entwine, And, for his second time in life, Enlisted in the Line!

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One end he tied around a beam,
And then removed his pegs,
And, as his legs were off,—of course,
He soon was off his legs!
And there he hung, till he was dead

nail in town,
For though distress had cut him up,
It could not cut him down!
A dozen men sat on his corpse,
To find out why he died-
And they buried Ben in four cross roads,
With a stake in his inside!



The summer and autumn had been so wet,
That in winter the corn was growing yet;
'Twas a piteous sight to see all around
The grain lie rotting on the ground.
Every day the starving poor
Crowded around Bishop Hatto's door,
For he had a plentiful last year's store,
And all the neighbourhood could tell
His granaries were furnish'd well.
At last Bishop Hatto appointed a day
To quiet the poor without delay;
He bade them to his great barn repair,
And they should have food for the winter there.
Rejoiced such tidings good to hear,
The poor folk flock'd from far and near;
The great barn was full as it could hold
Of women and children, and young and old.

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