Classic Poem

Of all the brave captains that ever were seen,
Appointed to fight by a king or a queen,
By a queen or a king appointed to fight,
Sure never a captain was like this brave knight.

He pulled off his slippers and wrapper of silk,
And foaming as furious — as whisk-pared milk —
Says he to his lady, " My lady, I'll go.
My company calls me; you must not say no."

With eyes all in tears, says my lady, says she,
" O cruel Sir Dilberry, do not kill me!
For I never will leave thee, but cling round thy middle,
And die in the arms of Sir Dilberry Diddle."

Says Diddle again to his lady, " My dear!"
(And with a white handkerchief wiped off a tear)
" The hottest of actions will only be farce,
For sure thou art Venus!" Says she, " Thou art Mars!"

Awhile they stood simp'ring, like master and miss,
And Cupid thought he would have given one kiss;
'Twas what she expected, admits no dispute,
But he touched his own finger, and blew a salute.

By a place I can't mention, not knowing its name,
At the head of his company Dilberry came,
And the drums to the window call every eye,
To see the defence of the nation pass by.

Old bible-faced women, through spectacles dim,
With hemming and coughing, cried, " Lord! it is him!"
While boys and the girls, who more clearly could see,
Cried, " Yonder's Sir Dilberry Diddle, that's he."

Of all the fair ladies that came to the show,
Sir Diddle's fair lady stood first in the row;
" O charming," says she, " how he looks, all in red;
How he turns out his toes! how he holds up his head!

" Do but see his cockade, and behold his dear gun,
Which shines like a looking-glass held in the sun;
O! see thyself now, thou'rt so martially smart,
And look as you looked when you conquered my heart!"

The sweet-sounding notes of Sir Dilberry Diddle
More ravished his ears than the sound of a fiddle,
And as it grew faint, that he heard it no more,
He softened the word of command to — encore .

The battle now over without any blows,
The heroes unarm and strip off their clothes;
The captain, refreshed with a sip of rosewater,
Hands his dear to the coach, bows, and then steps in after.

John's orders were special, to drive very slow,
For fevers oft follow fatigue, we all know;
But prudently cautious, in Venus's lap,
His head under her apron, brave Mars took a nap.

He dreamed, Fame reports, that he cut all the throats
Of the French, as they landed in flat-bottomed boats:
In his sleep if such dreadful destruction he makes,
What havoc, ye gods, shall we have when he wakes?