Why, so could the mighty LA GUERRE.

"No doubt we deserve it--no mercy we crave--
Go on--you're conferring a boon;
We would rather be slanged by a warrior brave,
Than praised by a wretched poltroon!"

MAKREDI would say that in battle's fierce rage
True happiness only was met:
Poor MAJOR MAKREDI, though fifty his age,
Had never known happiness yet!

LA GUERRE would declare, "With the blood of a foe
No tipple is worthy to clink."
Poor fellow! he hadn't, though sixty or so,
Yet tasted his favourite drink!

They agreed at their mess--they agreed in the glass--
They agreed in the choice of their "set,"
And they also agreed in adoring, alas!
The Vivandiere, pretty FILLETTE.

Agreement, you see, may be carried too far,
And after agreeing all round
For years--in this soldierly "maid of the bar,"
A bone of contention they found!

It may seem improper to call such a pet--
By a metaphor, even--a bone;
But though they agreed in adoring her, yet