Who bade you do't? Both. SLAUGHTER. The same! the same! Letters four do form his name. He let me loose, and cried, Halloo ! FAMINE. Thanks, sister, thanks! the men have bled, Their wives and their children faint for bread. With bones and skulls I made a rattle, To frighten the wolf and carrion-crow And the homeless dog-but they would not go. So off I flew for how could I bear To see them gorge their dainty fare? I heard a groan and a peevish squall, Both. Whisper it, sister! in our ear. VOL. II. I FAMINE. A baby beat its dying mother: I had starv'd the one and was starving the other! Who bade you do't? Both. FAMINE. The same! the same! Letters four do form his name. He let me loose, and cried, Halloo! To him alone the praise is due. FIRE. Sisters! I from Ireland came ! I flung back my head and I held my sides, It was so rare a piece of fun To see the swelter'd cattle run With uncouth gallop through the night, Scared by the red and noisy light! By the the light of his own blazing cot The house-stream met the flame and hiss'd, On some of those old bed-rid nurses, That deal in discontent and curses. Both. Who bade you do't? FIRE. The same! the same! Letters four do form his name. He let me loose, and cried, Halloo ! To him alone the praise is due. All. He let us loose, and cried, Halloo ! How shall we yield him honour due ? FAMINE. Wisdom comes with lack of food. I'll gnaw, I'll gnaw the multitude, Till the cup of rage o'erbrim: They shall seize him and his brood |