Eighteen Hundred and Eleven
EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND ELEVEN, _A POEM_. BY ANNA LĆTITIA BARBAULD. LONDON: PRINTED FOR J. JOHNSON AND CO., ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD. 1812. PRINTED BY RICHARD TAYLOR AND CO., SHOE LANE. EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND ELEVEN. Still the loud death drum, thundering from afar,
so many dead trees, that stand even after life has left them. You are
alive and beautiful in every movement, like the long curving wave that
breaks upon the beach.'
"Oh, there is no doubt that Big Bear knew all about the best way to
make love, for very soon the squaw-snake began to show great
discontent with her husband, to scold him in a high voice, and to wish
that he were dead; whereas she greeted Big Bear with much affection,
warming her glittering head in his breast, and embracing him several
times by coiling round and round him. But she was careful to turn her
head away, so as not to poison him by her breath. As for Big Bear,
though he was glad to win her love, he wished her not to love him too
well as she had a wonderful dexterity in snapping off the heads of
those whom she admired. Her consent to the death of her husband was
easily gained, and she bade him dip the points of two arrows in the
poison of her sting. This he did and after retiring within the
fortification he levelled one arrow at the head of the husband, while
he deposited the other in that of the wicked wife. The horrid monsters
rolled over in agony, and rent the air with their death-shrieks, while
all the people gathering about Big Bear, called him their brother,
because by his wonderful knowledge of the arts of flirtation he had
delivered them from great peril. But the most grievous result of the
danger through which they had passed was this, that the poison ejected
by the snakes in their death-agonies affected all the tribes of the
earth to such an extent that each began to use a different language
which could not be comprehended by the others. Since that time a young
EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND ELEVEN, _A POEM_. BY ANNA LĆTITIA BARBAULD. LONDON: PRINTED FOR J. JOHNSON AND CO., ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD. 1812. PRINTED BY RICHARD TAYLOR AND CO., SHOE LANE. EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND ELEVEN. Still the loud death drum, thundering from afar,