 | The lay of the Scottish fiddle : a tale of Havre de Grace |  |
53
VI.
Then thus Sir Bolus—“Who will dare“The dangerous glory, and repair,
“To these vile towns, and wrap in flame,
“Their being, nay, their very name?
“Who dares, upon our knightly word,
“His majesty shall make a lord.”
Sir Beresford was capering round,
With lightsome step and airy bound,
Whistling an Irish jig the while,
With many a self approving smile,
His much admired leg to greet,
In silken hose, “neat and complete,”
He heard not, or seem'd not to hear,
But whistled still, “Brave Brian's Bier.”
| The lay of the Scottish fiddle : a tale of Havre de Grace | |