I see him step with caution due,
Soft as if shod with moccasins,
Grave as in church,—and who plies you,
Sweet craft, is safe as in a pew
From all our common stock o' sins.
6.
The unerring fly I see him cast,
That as a rose-leaf falls as soft,—
A flash! a whirl! he has him fast!
We tyros,—how that struggle last
Confuses and appalls us oft!
7.
Unfluttered he; calm as the sky
Looks on our tragicomedies,
This way and that he lets him fly,
A sunbeam-shuttle, then to die
Lands him with cool aplomb, at ease.
8.
The friend who gave our board such gust,—
Life's care, may he o'erstep it half,
And when Death hooks him, as he must,
He'll do it featly, as I trust,
And J. H. write his epitaph!
9.
O, born beneath the Fishes' sign,
Of constellations happiest,
May he somewhere with Walton dine,
May Horace send him Massic wine,
And Burns Scotch drink,—the nappiest!
10.