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Tbe TWO THIEVES,
Or the last Stage of AVARICE.
Oh now that the genius of Bewick were mine
What feats would I work with my magical hand!
The Traveller would hang his wet clothes on a chair
Little Dan is unbreech'd, he is three birth-days old,
With chips is the Carpenter strewing his floor?
Old Daniel begins, he stops short and his eye
Dan once had a heart which was mov'd by the wires
'Twas a path trod by thousands, but Daniel is one
| The pair sally forth hand in hand; ere the sun
They hunt through the street with deliberate tread,
Neither check’d by the rich nor the needy they roam,
Old Man! whom so oft I with pity have ey'd,
A whirl-blast from behind the hill