He hesitates, uncertain which to let off,
The gun or me; perhaps I still may get off.
But no! the gentle audience sees his doubt,
And playfully resolves to help him out;
And fifty throats exclaim, with laughter splitting,
“Wire in, my boy, and shoot the beggar sitting!”
Will he “forego his vantage” and retire?
Ah, no! he quietly proceeds to “wire.”
The gun is raised! A flash! And so I die—
No, missed me clean, with none to wipe his eye!