"You've given him a broken head, I perceive. Prior to the great adventure, her mirrors had been the still pools in the rocks after the ebb. "And had you been the worst scoundrel unhung, I'd have seen to it that you had the same care, the same chance. Where Saint Giles' church stands, once a lazar-house stood; And, chain'd to its gates, was a vessel of wood; A broad-bottom'd bowl, from which all the fine fellows, Who pass'd by that spot, on their way to the gallows, Might tipple strong beer, Their spirits to cheer, And drown in a sea of good liquor all fear! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! II.
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