XXV.

His morals thus were undermined:-- The old Peter--the hard, old Potter-- Was born anew within his mind; He grew dull, harsh, sly, unrefined, As when he tramped beside the Otter.[87]

In the death hues of agony Lambently flashing from a fish, Now Peter felt amused to see Shades like a rainbow's rise and flee, Mixed with a certain hungry wish.[88]

So in his Country's dying face He looked--and, lovely as she lay, Seeking in vain his last embrace, Wailing her own abandoned case, With hardened sneer he turned away:

And coolly to his own soul said;-- 'Do you not think that we might make A poem on her when she's dead:-- Or, no--a thought is in my head-- Her shroud for a new sheet I'll take: