Child Daniel.

In Fancy-land there is a burst of wo,1
The spirit’s tribute to the fallen ; see2
On each scarr’d front the cloud of sorrow grow,3
Bloating its sprightly shine. But what is he4
For whom grief’s mighty butt is broach’d so free ?5
Were his brows shadow’d by the awful crown,6
The Bishop’s mitre, or high plumery7
Of the mail’d warrior ?  Won he his renown8
On pulpit, throne, or field, whom death hath now struck down ?9
He won it in the field where arms are none,10
Save those the mother gives to us. He was11
A climbing star which had not fully shone,12
Yet promised in its glory to surpass13
Our champion star ascendant ; but alas !14
The sceptred shade that values earthly might,15
And pow’r, and pith, and bottom, as the grass,16
Gave with his fleshless fist a buffet slight ;— —17
Say, bottle-holding Leach, why ends so soon the fight ?18
What boots t’ inquire?—’Tis done. Green mantled Erin19
May weep her hopes of milling sway past by,20
And crib, sublime, no lowlier rival fearing,21
Repose sole Ammon of the fistic sky,22
Conceited, quaffing his blue ruin high,23
Till comes the Swell, that come to all men must,24
By whose foul blows Sir Daniel low doth lie,25
Summons the Champion to resign his trust,26
And mingles his with Kings, Slaves, Chieftains, Beggars’ dust !27


In Fancy-land there is a burst of wo.”
Why will Coleridge and Wordsworth continue to bother the world with their metaphy-
sies ? Fancy and Imagination ! Neither of them can tell the difference. Sam, write
another Christabelle—but William, thou Sylvan Sage, no more Excursions, though,
joking apart, thou art the best of all the Pond, poets. Moulsey Hurst is the “ green
naval” of Fancy-land.
For whom grief’s mighty butt is broached so free.”
I owe this line to my friend, Meux.
The bishop’s mitre, or high plumery
Of the maid warrior ?”
I have no doubt that Donnelly would have made a very excellent bishop. He would
have been powerful in the pulpit. The finest-armed man I ever saw was a bishop of the
Greek Church, who had been a robber in his youth. Milo himself could not have shewn
nobler knuckles. Spirit of Pollux ! Donnelly was not a soldier—a hired blood-shedder !
He did not, like Shaw, close a life of honour by a disgraceful death at the carnage of
Mont St Jean, fighting against the Man of the Age, who may yet be destined to be the
liberator of Europe.
Our champion star ascendant.”
I am no enemy of Crib’s ! But lives there a man so base as to say that he has not been
indebted more to fortune than to bravery or skill in all his battles ? Was he not fast los-
ing his first fight, with Jem Belcher, when that finished pugilist’s hands gaye way ? Was
not the Monops out of condition in the second contest ? “When Gregson, by a chance fall,
could not come to time, Crib was dead-beat ; and “ Bob of Wigan, ring-honoured
Lancaster,” was comparatively fresh, and able to have renewed the combat. What Briton
will to say, that Molyneaux did not win his first battle with the Champion ? It
seemed otherwise to the Umpires ; but neither Europe nor America was to be so satisfied ;
and as my friend, Leigh Hunt, (he is my friend according to common speech, and I have
no fault to find with his dedication of Rimini,) has lately expressed a wish that Napoleon
may be liberated from St Helena, that he may fight the battle of Waterloo over again
with Wellington, so do I wish that Pluto would send us back Molyneaux to try his for-
tune once more with Tom Crib. My own opinion is, that judgment would be reversed
in both cases.
Say, bottle-holding Leach, why ends so soon the fight ?”
There is no allusion here, to the Vice Chancellor of England, which the reader may
have suspected from the previous note about reversals of judgment. Neither is there any
allusion to William Elford Leach of the British Museum. Had there been, the epithet
would have been more-apt, “ beetle-holdixig Leach.”
And mingles his with Kings, Slaves, Chieftains, Beggars’ dust !”
The reader will pardon the tautology of this line, Where is the difference between
them all ?