Captain Ortis' Booty
Yet my captain, to certain eyes,
Seems war-hardened and worldly-wise.
"'Twere, for a hero," you say, "more handsome
To give the freedom, nor take the ransom."
True: but think of this hero's lot.
No Quixote he, nor Sir Launcelot,
But a needy soldier, half-starved, remember.
With cold and hunger that northern December ;
Just such an one as Parma meant
When he wrote to Philip in discontent—
"Antwerp must yield to our men ere much longer,
Unless you leave us to die of hunger.
"Wages, clothing, they do without.
Wine, fire even; they'll learn, no doubt.
To live vnthout meat for their mouths—they're zealous;
Only they die first as yet, poor fellows."
Yes, and I praise him, for my part.
This man war-beaten and tough of heart.
Who, scheming a booty, no doubt, yet planned it
More like a hero, I think, than a bandit.
What! My friend is too coarse for you?
Will nought less than a Galahad do? . . .
Rough and ready this soldier-sort is;
Well—half & hero was Captain Ortis!
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