And did beneath his roof receive
The care that pitying skill could give.
"The fever wag'd a painful strife,
A struggling chance 'tween Death and Life,
That play'd upon my yielding spine,
Which did to outward curve incline:
I felt the mark would ne'er forsake
Its cruel seat upon my back;
I bent beneath the foul disaster
That ne'er would yield to any plaister:
Nor medicine, nor knife can cure it,
And must struggle to endure it.
Thus when restor'd to health and vigour,
I was become a crook-back'd figure:
My former round and healthful face
Had lost its plump, its rosy grace,
And was reduc'd from this same cause
To pale and lean and lantern jaws,
That none who once Quæ Genus knew
Would recollect him on the view;
Nor e'en would recognition wait
Though he should pass by Gripe-all's gate. |
When in the glass I chanc'd to view,
The figure I now scarcely knew,
I shudder'd and despis'd it too. | } |
—'At length,' said Julep, 'I commend,
Ere you depart, a worthy friend,
A lawyer too, nay, do not start,
Whose well-stor'd head and honest-heart,
Throughout his life were ne'er disjoin'd,
And in his practice are combin'd
The cause of truth and right to aid;
Who ne'er has heard the poor upbraid
His conscious dealings, while 'tis known,
The wealthy do his virtues own.
Thus, as your fate has been accurs'd,
Of legal dealers, with the worst;
You now may, as by all confess'd,
Obtain good counsel from the best. |
"On such a character intent,
To Lawyer Make-peace thus I went,
And told my curious story o'er
As I have told it you before.
With a keen look my face he ey'd,
And in a gentle tone replied.
'If the good man you thus have bang'd,