Ode To John Bradbury

(THE NOTES FOR 1 AND 10S ARE SIGNED BY JOHN BRADBURY)         When the Red KAISER, swoll'n with impious pride         And stuffed with texts to serve his instant need,         Took Shame for partner and Disgrace for guide,         Earned to the full the hateful traitor's meed,         And bade his hordes advance         Through Belgium's cities towards the fields of France;         And when at last our patient island race,         By the attempted wrong         Made fierce and strong,         Flung back the challenge in the braggart's face,         Oh then, while martial music filled the air,         Clarion and fife and bagpipe and the drum,         Calling to men to muster, march, and dare,         Oh, then thy day, JOHN BRADBURY, was come.         JOHN BRADBURY, the Muse shall fill my strain         To sing thy praises; thou hadst spent thy time         Not idly, nor hadst lived thy life in vain,         Unfitted for the guerdon of my rhyme.         For lo, the Funds went sudden crashing down,         And men grew pale with monetary fear,         And in the toppling mart         The stoutest heart         Melted, and fortunes seemed to disappear;         And some, forgetting their austere renown,         Went mad and sold         Whate'er they could and wildly called for Gold!         "Since through no fault of ours the die was cast         We shall go forth and fight         In death's despite         And shall return victorious at the last;         But how, ah how," they said,         "Shall we and ours be fed         And clothed and housed from dreary day to day,         If, while our hearths grow cold, we have no coin to pay?"         Then thou, where no gold was and little store         Of silver, didst appear and wave thy pen,         And with thy signature         Make things secure,         Bidding us all pluck up our hearts once more         And face our foolish fancied fears like men.         "I give you notes," you said, "of different kinds         To ease your anxious minds:         The one is black and shall be fairly found         Equal in value to a golden pound;         The other - mark its healthy scarlet print -         Is worth a full half-sovereign from the Mint."         Thus didst thou speak - at least I think thou didst -         And, lo, the murmurs fell         And all things went right well,         While thy notes fluttered in our happy midst.         Therefore our grateful hearts go forth to thee,         Our British note-provider, brave JOHN BRADBURY!