174

DEATH S DOINGS.

They talk of championship!—what next, 1 wonder !Did they imagine Death would e'er' knock under?'Could they, in fact, supposeI car'd about their blows ?I! who can ' draw the claret' when I please—' Fib,' or ' cross-buttock' 'em, or close their' peepers VI! who can ' double up' the ' swells' with ease,

And make 'em senseless as the seven sleepers !*Not I, indeed;—and so, it seems, they found,

For there they all lie sprawling on the ground :They'll never ' come to time' again—no, never—At least, not here —For, 'twill appear,When I their business do, 'tis done for ever!

* Whether Death here alludes to the seven giants, who,lying down to sleep on Salisbury Plain, slept " to wake nomore," as an old west-country nursery legend so truly tells; orwhether the simile has reference to some seven animals (thedormouse, &c.) whose torpid existence during the wintermonths has given them the appellation of the " seven sleepers,"we pretend not to determine. That there should, however, bea degree of mystery attached to the metaphor will by no meansbe considered a poetical defect; and as it may probably inducecertain learned commentators to discuss the question, and tofavour the world with many a curious hypothesis in elicitingthe truth, we are right glad, for the sake of mankind in general,that Death was not more communicative on the subject.

MHBM