A LONG STORY. 69

The trembling family they daunt,
They flirt, they sing, they laugh, they tattle.
Rummage his Mother, pinch his Aunt,
And up flairs in a whirlwind rattle.

Each hole and cupboard they explore,
Each creek and cranny of his chamber,
Run hurry-fkurry round the floor,
And o'er the bed and teeter clamber;

Into the Drawers and China pry,
Papers and books, a huge Imbroglio!
Under a tea cup he might lie,
Or creafed like dog-cars, in a folio.

On the firft marching of the troops
The Mufes, hopelefs of his pardon,
Convey'd him underneath their hoops,
To a small clofet in the garden.

So

70 A LONG STORY,

So Rumour fays: (Who will, believe.)
But that they left the door ajar,
Where, safe and laughing in his sleeve,
He heard the diffant din of war.

Short was his joy. He little knew
The power of magic was no fable;
Out of the window, whist, they flew,
But left a spell upon the table.

The words too eager to unriddle
The poet felt a strange disorder:
Transparent birdlime form'd the middle,
And chains invifible the border,

So cunning was the Apparatus,
The powerful pothooks did fo move him,
That, will he, nill he, to the Great-houfe
He went, as if the devil drove him.

Yet