The Patriot Engineer
'Sirs! may I shake your hands?
My countrymen, I see!
I've lived in foreign lands
Till England's Heaven to me.
A hearty shake will do me good,
And freshen up my sluggish blood.'
Into his hard right hand we struck,
Gave the shake, and wish'd him luck.
'-From Austria I come,
An English wife to win,
And find an English home,
And live and die therein.
Great Lord! how many a year I've pined
To drink old ale and speak my mind!'
Loud rang our laughter, and the shout
Hills round the Meuse-boat echoed about.
'-Ay, no offence: laugh on,
Young gentlemen: I'll join.
Had you to exile gone,
Where free speech is base coin,
You'd sigh to see the jolly nose
Where Freedom's native liquor flows!'
He this time the laughter led,
Dabbling his oily bullet head.
'-Give me, to suit my moods,
An ale-house on a heath,
I'll hand the crags and woods
To B'elzebub beneath.
A fig for scenery! what scene
Can beat a Jackass on a green?'
Gravely he seem'd, with gaze intense,
Putting the question to common sense.
'-Why, there's the ale-house bench:
The furze-flower shining round:
And there's my waiting-wench,
As lissome as a hound.
With 'hail Britannia!' ere I drink,
I'll kiss her with an artful wink.'
Fair flash'd the foreign landscape while
We breath'd again our native Isle.
[...] Read more
poem by George Meredith
Added by Poetry Lover
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