Together but unlike they grew; Robin was rough, and through and through Bold, inconsiderate, and manly, Like some historic Bruce or Stanley. Ben had a mean and servile soul, He robbed not, though he often stole. He sang on Sunday in the choir, And tamely capped the passing Squire.
At length, intolerant of trammels-- Wild as the wild Bithynian camels, Wild as the wild sea-eagles--Bob His widowed dam contrives to rob, And thus with great originality Effectuates his personality. Thenceforth his terror-haunted flight He follows through the starry night; And with the early morning breeze, Behold him on the azure seas. The master of a trading dandy Hires Robin for a go of brandy; And all the happy hills of home Vanish beyond the fields of foam.
Ben, meanwhile, like a tin reflector, Attended on the worthy rector; Opened his eyes and held his breath, And flattered to the point of death; And was at last, by that good fairy, Apprenticed to the Apothecary.
So Ben, while Robin chose to roam, A rising chemist was at home, Tended his shop with learnéd air, Watered his drugs and oiled his hair, And gave advice to the unwary, Like any sleek apothecary.
Meanwhile upon the deep afar Robin the brave was waging war, With other tarry desperadoes About the latitude of Barbadoes. He knew no touch of craven fear; His voice was thunder in the cheer; First, from the main-to'-gallan' high, The skulking merchantman to spy-- The first to bound upon the deck, The last to leave the sinking wreck. His hand was steel, his word was law, His mates regarded him with awe. No pirate in the whole profession Held a more honourable position.
At length, from years of anxious toil, Bold Robin seeks his native soil; Wisely arranges his affairs, And to his native dale repairs. The Bristol _Swallow_ sets him down Beside the well-remembered town. He sighs, he spits, he marks the scene, Proudly he treads the village green; And free from pettiness and rancour, Takes lodgings at the 'Crown and Anchor.'
Strange when a man so great and good, Once more in his home-country stood, Strange that the sordid clowns should show A dull desire to have him go.
His clinging breeks, his tarry hat, The way he swore, the way he spat, A certain quality of manner, Alarming like the pirate's banner-- Something that did not seem to suit all-- Something, O call it bluff, not brutal-- Something at least, howe'er it's called, Made Robin generally black-balled.