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Peter Faultless to his brother Simon

tales of night, in rhyme, and other poems. By the author of Night [i.e. Ebenezer Elliott]

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XIII.

“A Milton!” loudly Mathew cried;
“A Milton!” ten harsh throats replied;
And Charles look'd round, with scornful air,
Prouder than Punch at country fair:
While Jacob, by th' applauding laugh
Rous'd from his wonted stupor, gaz'd
On poet, groom, and all, amaz'd.
But bride's maid Nancy's well-timed tear,
More eloquent than words by half,
Paid to his powers, so loudly prais'd,
Applause, the sweetest and most dear.
The song had pathos! and she slept
Till it was ended; then she wept—
It was a way she had, a whim.
Unseen, he thought, for sly was he
(Yet not, perchance, more sly than she)

168

He watch'd, and saw her—prying thing!—
Pass the rich bride-cake through the ring;
Doubtless, in hope to dream of him!