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William Blake

Does the Eagle know what is in the pit?

Or wilt thou go ask the Mole:

Can Wisdom be put in a silver rod?

Or Love in a golden bowl?

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noun

One who, or that which, accelerates.

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PART SECOND.

60 lines
Walter Scott·1771–1832·Romanticism
eorge Wharton was the first ae man,Came to the appointed place that day,Where he espyed our Scots lord coming,As fast as he could post away. They met, shook hands; their cheeks were pale;Then to George Wharton James did say,"I dinna like your doublet, George,"It stands sae weel on you this day. "Say, have you got no armour on?"Have ye no under robe of steel?"I never saw an English man"Become his doublet half sae weel." "Fy no! fy no!" George Wharton said,"For that's the thing that mauna be,"That I should come wi' armour on,"And you a naked man truly." "Our men shall search our doublets, George,"And see if one of us do lie;"Then will we prove, wi' weapons sharp,"Ourselves true gallants for to be." Then they threw off their doublets both,And stood up in their sarks o' lawn;"Now, take my counsel," said Sir James,"Wharton, to thee I'll make it knawn: "So as we stand, so will we fight;"Thus naked in our sarks," said he;"Fy no! fy no!" George Wharton says;"That is the thing that must not be. "We're neither drinkers, quarrellers,"Nor men that cares na for oursel;"Nor minds na what we're gaun about,"Or if we're gaun to heav'n or hell. "Let us to God bequeath our souls,"Our bodies to the dust and clay!"With that he drew his deadly sword,The first was drawn on field that day. Se'en bouts and turns these heroes had,Or e'er a drop o' blood was drawn;Our Scotch lord, wond'ring, quickly cry'd,"Stout Wharton! thou still hauds thy awn!" The first stroke that George Wharton gae,He struck him thro' the shoulder-bane;The neist was thro' the thick o' the thigh;He thought our Scotch lord had been slain. "Oh! ever alak!" George Wharton cry'd,"Art thou a living man, tell me?"If there's a surgeon living can,"He'se cure thy wounds right speedily." "No more of that!" James Stuart said;"Speak not of curing wounds to me!"For one of us must yield our breath,"Ere off the field one foot we flee." They looked oure their shoulders both,To see what company was there;They both had grievous marks of death,But frae the other nane wad steer. George Wharton was the first that fell;Our Scotch lord fell immediately:They both did cry to Him above,To save their souls, for they boud die.