A patient in Bedlam that did pretty well, Was permitted sometimes to go out of his cell. One day when they gave him that freedom, he spied A beauish young spark with a sword by his side, With a huge silver hilt, and a scabbard of steel, That swung at due length from his hip to his heel. When he saw him advance on the gallery ground, The Bedlamite ran, and survey'd him all round; While a waiter suppress'd the young Captain's alarm With—"You need not to fear, Sir, he'll do you no harm." At the last he broke out—@3Aye, a very fine show! May I ask him one question?@1 'What's that?' said the Beau. @3Pray, what is that long, dangling, cumbersome thing, Which you seem to be tied to with riband and string?@1 'Why, that is my sword?'—@3And what is it to do?@1 'Kill my enemies, master, by running them thro.' @3Kill your enemies! Kill a fool's head of your own! They'll die of themselves, if you let them alone.@1 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SHEPHERD BOY'S SONG, FR. THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS by JOHN BUNYAN DREAMS OLD AND NASCENT: NASCENT by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE THE SMACK IN SCHOOL by WILLIAM PITT PALMER OZYMANDIAS by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY WINTER FANTASY by ADELE BABBITT OLD SARUM; LINES ON THE CONFERENCE OF THE ENGLISH CHURCH AT SALISBURY by ALICE COLBURN BEAL |