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The TWO THIEVES,
Or the last Stage of AVARICE.
Oh now that the genius of Bewick were mine
And the skill which he learn'd on the Banks of the Tyne; When the Muses might deal with me just as they chose For I'd take my last leave both of verse and of
What feats would I work with my magical hand!
The Traveller would hang his wet clothes on a chair
Let them smoke, let them burn, not a straw would he care,
Little Dan is unbreech'd, he is three birth-days old,
With chips is the Carpenter strewing his floor?
Old Daniel begins, he stops short and his eye
Dan once had a heart which was mov'd by the wires Of manifold pleasures and many desires :
And what if he cherish'd his purse? 'Twas no more Than treading a path trod by thousands before.
"Twas a path trod by thousands, but Daniel is one
The pair sally forth hand in hand; ere the sun
This Child but half knows it and that not at all.
They hunt through the street with deliberate tread,
Neither check'd by the rich nor the needy they roam,
Old Man whom so oft I with pity have ey'd,
A whirl-blast from behind the hill
And showers of hail-stones patter'd round.
Of tallest hollies, tall and green,