Page:Poetical sketches reprint (1868).djvu/58

40 Directly in the Blind-man's way, Then cries out, "Hem!" Hodge heard, and ran With hood-wink'd chance—sure of his man; But down he came.—Alas, how frail Our best of hopes, how soon they fail! With crimson drops he stains the ground, Confusion startles all around! Poor piteous Dick supports his head, And fain would cure the hurt he made; But Kitty hasted with a key And down his back they straight convey The cold relief—the blood is stay'd And Hodge again holds up his head. Such are the fortunes of the game, And those who play should stop the same By wholesome laws, such as—all those Who on the blinded man impose, Stand in his stead; as long agone When men were first a nation grown, Lawless they lived, till wantonness And liberty began t' increase, And one man lay in another's way; Then laws were made to keep fair play.