The Poetical Works of The Rev. Samuel Bishop :: :: University of Virginia Library

Peace, and her Arts, we sing: Her genial power
Can give the breast to pant, the thought to tower;
Tho' guiltless, not inglorious souls inspires;
And boasts less savage, not less noble fires.

Such is her sway, when Cricket calls her train,
The sons of labour to th' accustom'd plain:
With all the Hero's passion and desire
They swell, they glow, they envy, and admire:
Despair and resolution reign by turns;
Suspense torments; and emulation burns.

See in due rank dispos'd, intent they stand
In act to start!—The eye, the foot, the hand,

All active, eager, seem'd conjoin'd in one;
Tho' fix'd, yet moving; and while present, gone.

In ancient combat, from the Parthian steed,
Not more unerring flew the barbed reed,
Than flies the ball, with varied vigour play'd;
Now levell'd, whizzing o'er the springing blade,
Now toss'd, to rise more fatal from the ground,
Exact and faithful to the destin'd bound.

Yet vain it's speed, yet vain the Bowler's aim,
The wary Bat's-man watches o'er the Game;
Before his stroke the leathern circle flies;
Now wheels oblique, now mounting threats the skies.

Nor yet less vain the wary Bat's-man's blow,
If intercepted by the circling foe;
Too soon the nimble arm retorts the ball,
Or ready fingers catch it in it's fall:
Thus various art, with various fortune strives;
And with each changing chance, the sport revives.

Emblem of many-colour'd Life!—The state,
By Cricket laws, discriminates the great:
The Outer Side, who power and profits want,
Watch to surprise, and labour to surplant;
While those, who taste the sweets of present winnings,
Contend as heartily, to keep their Innings.
—On either side the whole great Game is play'd;
Untried no shift is left; unsought no aid;
Skill vies with skill; and power opposes power;
While squint-ey'd Prejudice computes the score.

In private Life, like single-handed players
We get less notches; but we meet less cares;
Full many an effort (which perhaps at court,
Would fix the doubtful issue of the sport)
Wide of the mark, or impotent to rise,
Ruins the rash, and disappoints the wise.

Yet all in public and in private, strive
To keep the ball of action still alive;
And, just to all, when each his ground has run,
Death tips the wicket,—and the Game is done.