This page has been validated.
ODE TO IMPUDENCE.
“Integer vitæ, scelerisque purus.”
Horace, Book I., Ode 22.
he man who wears a brazen face,
Quite à son aise his glass may quaff;
And whether in or out of place,
May twirl his stick, and laugh.
Useless to him the broad doubloon,
Red note, or dollar of the mill;
Though all his gold be in the moon,
His brass is current money still.
Thus, when my cash was at low water,
At Niblo’s I sat down to dine;
And after a tremendous slaughter
Among the wild-fowl and the wine,
The bill before mine eyes was placed—
When, slightly turning round my head,
“Charge it,” cried I—the man amazed,
Stared, made his congé, and obeyed.
Oh! bear me to some forest thick,
Where wampumed Choctaws prowl alone,
