By that same dashing DIBDIN of patriot tongue,
Grown aged, used up, is he honoured? No, zounds!
"The high-mettled racer is sold to the hounds!"
And so with a barky of glorious name,
(It is business, of course--_and a Thundering Shame!_)
Worn out, she is nought but spars, timbers and logs,
And so, like the horse, should be sold--to the dogs!

As for the _Foudroyant_, the vessel was trim
When it fought with the French, for JOHN BULL, under _Him_,
The Star of the Nile. Yes, it carried _his_ flag,
When it captured the Frenchman. There's no need to brag,
Or to say swagger things of a generous foe.
Besides, things have doosedly altered, you know.
_We_'re no more like NELSON than I to a Merman;
_We_ can sell his flag-ship for firewood, to the German!

Sounds nice, does it not? If that great one-armed Shade
Could look down on the bargain he'd--swear, I'm afraid
(If his death-purged bold spirit held yet ought of earth).
And I fancy 'twill move the gay Frenchman to mirth
To hear this last story of shop-keeping JOHN--
Or his huckster officials. The Frenchman, the Don,
The Dutchman, all foes we have licked,--may wax bold
When they hear that the brave old _Foudroyant_ is--Sold!!!

Great TURNER has pictured the old _Téméraire_
Tugged to _her_ last berth. Why the sun and the air
In that soul-stirring canvas, seem fired with the glory
Of such a brave ship, with so splendid a story!