THE DEATH OF ISHMAEL.

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[This and the six following poems are examples of that new achievement of modern song—which, blending the utile with the dulce, symbolises at once the practical and spiritual characteristics of the age,—and is called familiarly "the puff poetical."]

Died the Jew? "The Hebrew died.
On the pavement cold he lay,
Around him closed the living tide;
The butcher's cad set down his tray;
The pot-boy from the Dragon Green
No longer for his pewter calls;
The Nereid rushes in between,
Nor more her 'Fine live mackerel!' bawls."
Died the Jew? "The Hebrew died.
They raised him gently from the stone,
They flung his coat and neckcloth wide—
But linen had that Hebrew none.
They raised the pile of hats that pressed
His noble head, his locks of snow;
But, ah, that head, upon his breast,
Sank down with an expiring 'Clo!'"
Died the Jew? "The Hebrew died,
Struck with overwhelming qualms
From the flavour spreading wide
Of some fine Virginia hams.
Would you know the fatal spot,
Fatal to that child of sin?
These fine-flavoured hams are bought
At 50 Bishopsgate Within!"

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