V

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V

Time was the flattering voice of fame,

His ruffian bravery adored,

And true, his pistol’s faultless aim

An ace at fifteen paces bored.

But I must add to what I write

That, tipsy once in actual fight,

He from his Kalmuck horse did leap

In mud and mire to wallow deep,

Drunk as a fly; and thus the French

A valuable hostage gained,

A modern Regulus unchained,

Who to surrender did not blench

That every morn at Verrey’s cost

Three flasks of wine he might exhaust.