STIFF are the warrior's muscles, Congeal'd, alas! his chyle; No more in hostile tussles Will he excite his bile. Dry is the epidermis, A vein no longer bleeds -- And the communis vermis Upon the warrior feeds. Compress'd, alas! the thorax, That throbbed with joy or pain; Not e'en a dose of borax Could make it throb again. Dried up the warrior's throat is, All shatter'd too, his head: Still is the epiglottis -- The warrior is dead. |