"Sometimes you may him grave behold, "And dressed in drab so oddly! "He, like the puritans of old, "Affects to be so godly! "He next becomes a joyous elf, The doctor added, "Sir, you will "Not at your treatment wonder, "Since, though we 've really used you ill, "The lady caused the blunder." The Quaker groans,-too late he sees And tells his sire in woful strain, With tears his optics swimming, How, when all arts were tried in vain By men, he 's duped by women ! LINES WRITTEN DURING A VERY STORMY NIGHT, WHEN THE AUTHOR WAS PREVENTED from SLEEPING BY THE CHIMNEY TOP, WHICH VEERING CONTINUALLY ROUND IN THE WIND, RAISED THE MOST ANNOYING SOUNDS THROUGHOUT THE NIGHT. THOU fickle, noisy, fluttering thing, Nor on my torpid senses bring These sounds of fear. Restless I turn from side to side, And Morpheus, balmy god, invoke; With gentle stroke, When sudden oped my eyelids wide, Scared by thy croak! Poor Tantalus! I feel for thee, Condemned neck-deep in Stygian lake, By cruel Pluto's stern decree, Thy post to take; And, though mid plenty, never free Thy thirst to slake. Thus I, unhappy wight! require Some portion of the Morphean store, While pillow soft and bed conspire To make me snore But all is vain, yon chimney spire Won't cease to roar ! O Æolus! I prithee fly Thy cheek-inflated crew to stop; Or let them blow eight furlongs high Yon chimney top; And when far hence in distant sky, Thou mayst it drop. Exhausted, wearied, almost dead, I vow, than hear thine odious croak; I'd rather bear what many dread,— House full of smoke, And scolding wife, which things are said I should, at least, enjoy some peace, When fire was out and ceased from smoking, And wife asleep, but thou wilt cease Thy horrid croaking, Not till the gentlest winds decrease,- |