'Twas all too narrow and too courtly _there_;
In sight of that old pageantry of power
We were, in truth, the children of the past,
Scarce knowing our own time: but here, we stand
In nature's palaces, and we are _men_;--
Here, grandeur hath no younger dome than this;
And now, the strength which brought us o'er the deep,
Hath grown to manhood with its nurture here,--
Now that they heap on us abuses, that
Had crimsoned the first William's cheek, to name,--
We're ready now--for our last grapple with blind power.
[_Exeunt_.
* * * * *
DIALOGUE II.
SCENE. _The same. A group of ragged soldiers in conference_.
_1st Soldier_. I am flesh and blood myself, as well as the rest of you,
but there is no use in talking. What the devil would you do?--You may
talk till dooms-day, but what's to hinder us from serving our time
out?--and that's three months yet. Ay, there's the point. Show me that.
_2nd Sol_. Three months! Ha, thank Heaven mine is up to-morrow; and,
I'll tell you what, boys, before the sun goes down to-morrow night, you
will see one Jack Richards trudging home,--trudging home, Sirs! None of
your bamboozling, your logic, and your figures.
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