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162 Whose laurel-harvests long have shown As green and glorious as his own; And proudly would the claim Companionship with ’s name, His peer in forehead and in fame.

Both eloquent and learned and brave,
 * Born to command and skilled to rule,

One made the citizen a slave,
 * The other makes him more—a fool.

The Cæsar an imperial crown,
 * His slaves’ mad gift, refused to wear;

The Riker put his fool’s-cap on,
 * And found it fitted to a hair;

The Cæsar, though by birth and breeding, Travel, the ladies, and light reading, A gentleman in mien and mind,
 * And fond of Romans and their mothers,

Was heartless as the Arab’s wind, And slew some millions of mankind,
 * Including enemies and others.

The Riker, like Bob Acres, stood Edgewise upon a field of blood,
 * The where and wherefore Swartwout knows,

Pulled trigger, as a brave man should,
 * And shot—God bless them—his own toes!

The Cæsar passed the Rubicon With helm, and shield, and breastplate on,
 * Dashing his war-horse through the waters;