DO not think the story
Of the giant-killer's glory
Is known and cherished only by yourselves,
O, my dears;
[Illustration]
For his deeds so daring,
And his trick of scaring
All his foes, are quite familiar to the elves,
It appears.
In the starlight, tender--
In the moonlight's splendor
Do they gather and recount every deed,
It is said;
How he met a hornet,
Who was playing on a cornet,
Out of tune; and he slew him with a reed,--
Slew him dead!
How, growing ever bolder,
With his reed upon his shoulder,
And an acorn-shield upon his little arm
Well equipped--
He sought a mighty giant,
Who was known as "Worm, the pliant,"
And after giving battle, fierce and warm,
Left him whipped.
How he saw a spider
With her victim, dead, inside her,
Told her, in a voice of fury, to begone
From his sight;
How he killed her when she'd risen
To her cruel, fatal prison,
And nobly freed her captives, so forlorn,--
Gallant knight!
Ah, but the elves are proudest,
And ring his praises loudest,
When telling of a snail, grim and hoary,
In his mail.
With those fearful horns before him,
Jack gallantly upbore him,
And killed him with a thrust (to his glory)
In the tail!
[Illustration]
List in the starlight, tender,--
List in the moonlight's splendor,--
For a whirring, like hurrahing, in the glen,
Far and near.
'Tis the elves who, looking back
To their giant-killer, Jack,
Tell his story to each other, funny men!
With a cheer.
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