Dagworth

A raw-boned fellow t’other day passed by me; I told him to put off his hungry looks— He answered me, “I hunger for another battle”. I saw a little Welshman with a fiery face; I told him he looked like a candle half Burned out; he answered, he was “pig enough To light another pattle”. Last night, beneath The moon I walked abroad, when all had pitched Their tents, and all were still; I heard a blooming youth singing a song He had composed, and at each pause he wiped His dropping eyes. The ditty was, “If he Returned victorious, he should wed a maiden Fairer than snow, and rich as midsummer”. Another wept, and wished health to his father. I chid them both, but gave them noble hopes. These are the minds that glory in the battle, And leap and dance to hear the trumpet sound.