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Updated: June 21, 2025
"Are these thy Mother Carey's chickens, Perth? they are always flying in thy wake; birds of good omen, too, but not to all; look here, they burn; but thou thou liv'st among them without a scorch." "Because I am scorched all over, Captain Ahab," answered Perth, resting for a moment on his hammer; "I am past scorching-, not easily can'st thou scorch a scar." "Well, well; no more.
Where they once dug for money, But never found any; Where sometimes Martial Miles Singly files, And Elijah Wood, I fear for no good: No other man, Save Elisha Dugan, O man of wild habits, Partridges and rabbits, Who hast no cares Only to set snares, Who liv'st all alone, Close to the bone, And where life is sweetest Constantly eatest.
The hated name of every ill I feel Is Mary Stuart were but she no more On earth I should be free as mountain air. With what disdain did she look down on me, As if her eye should blast me like the lightning! Poor feeble wretch! I bear far other arms, Their touch is mortal, and thou art no more. I am a bastard, am I? Hapless wretch, I am but so the while thou liv'st and breath'st.
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