And piteously did bleat,
Till in the throng that rush’d along
Each one its own might meet.
Cried Jack—It is a shame, I wis,
A burning shame to see
This Cormoran, a single man,
Defy the whole countrie!
What! tho’ no hand on Cornish land
Can wield the giant’s axe:
One heart there is as stout as his,