THE TWO THIEVES,

Or The last Stage of AVARICE.

O now that the genius of Bewick were mine,
And the skill which he learned on the banks of the Tyne!
Then the Muses might deal with me just as they chose,
For I'd take my last leave both of verse and of prose.

What feats would I work with my magical hand! Book learning and books should be banished the land: And for hunger and thirst and such troublesome calls! Every Ale-house should then have a feast on its walls.

The Traveller would hang his wet clothes on a chair; Let them smoke, let them burn, not a straw would he care; For the Prodigal Son, Joseph's Dream and his Sheaves, Oh, what would they be to my tale of two Thieves?

Little Dan is unbreeched, he is three birth-days old; His Grandsire that age more than thirty times told; There are ninety good seasons of fair and foul weather Between them, and both go a-stealing together.

With chips is the Carpenter strewing his floor?
Is a cart-load of peats at an old Woman's door?
Old Daniel his hand to the treasure will slide;
And his Grandson 's as busy at work by his side.

Old Daniel begins, he stops short-and his eye
Through the last look of dotage is cunning and sly.
"Tis a look which at this time is hardly his own,
But tells a plain tale of the days that are flown.

Dan once had a heart which was moved by the wires Of manifold pleasures and many desires:

And what if he cherished his purse? 'Twas no more Than treading a path trod by thousands before.

'Twas a path trod by thousands; but Daniel is one
Who went something further than others have gone :
And now with old Daniel you see how it fares ;
You see to what end he has brought his gray hairs.

The Pair sally forth hand in hand: ere the sun
Has peered o'er the beeches their work is begun :
And yet, into whatever sin they may fall,
This Child but half knows it, and that not at all.

They hunt through the streets with deliberate tread, And each in his turn is both leader and led;

And, wherever they carry their plots and their wiles, Every face in the village is dimpled with smiles.

Neither checked by the rich nor the needy they roam ; For gray-headed Dan has a daughter at home,

Who will gladly repair all the damage that's done; And three, were it asked, would be rendered for one.

Old Man! whom so oft I with pity have eyed,
I love thee, and love the sweet Boy at thy side:
Long yet mayst thou live! for a teacher we see
That lifts up the veil of our nature in thee.

A whirl-blast from behind the hill

Rushed o'er the wood with startling sound:
Then all at once the air was still,

And showers of hail-stones pattered round.
Where leafless Oaks towered high above,
I sat within an undergrove

Of tallest hollies, tall and green;
A fairer bower was never seen.
From year to year the spacious floor
With withered leaves is covered o'er
You could not lay a hair between :-
And all the year the bower is green.
But see! where'er the hailstones drop
The withered leaves all skip and hop,
There's not a breeze-no breath of air-
Yet here, and there, and every where