'Twere better one of us shall die, than England lose the wreath!
"Let's cast the lot among us now, which two shall fight to-morrow;
For armor bright we'll club our mite, and horses we can borrow;
'T were shame that bards of France should sneer, and German Dichters too,
If none of British song might dare a deed of derringdo!'
"'The lists of Love are mine,' said Moore, 'and not the lists of Mars;'
Said Hunt, 'I seek the jars of wine, but shun the combat's jars!'
'I'm old,' quoth Samuel Rogers.—'Faith,' says Campbell, 'so am I!'
'And I'm in holy orders, sir!' quoth Tom of Ingoldsby.
"'Now out upon ye, craven loons,' cried Moxon, good at need;