IX.
Like a cliff o'er ocean lowering,
Or some old and cross curmudgeon
Waiting, dinnerless, in dudgeon,
Sits the Giant glumly glowering.
Hears he not a whisper say,
"So there you are, old rascal, eh? "
Hears he not a step approaching,
Though he may n't the comer see?
No; like rogue by streamlet poaching,
Creeps Jack near him stealthily.
[Original Size] -- [Medium-Size]
X.
As when some school-boy—idle thief—
With double-knotted handkerchief,
What time his comrade stooping low,
With tightened skin invites the blow;
With sundry feints, delays to smite,
And baulks, to linger out delight;
So Jack, with thorough-going blade,
Stood aiming at the Giant's head.
At last the champion cried, "Here goes
Struck, and cut off the monster's—nose.
Like a thousand bulls all roaring mad,
Was the furious Giant's shout,
With the iron club, which I said he had,
Oh! how he laid about!
"Oho! if that's your way, old cock,
We must finish the game," quoth Jack;
So he vaulted upon the chopping-block,
And ran him through the back.
The Giant howled; the rocks around
Thrilled with his demon squall,
Then flat he fell upon the ground,
As the Monument might fall.
XI.