The meeting points the sacred hair dissever From the fair head, forever, and forever! Then flashed the living lightning from her eyes, And screams of horror rend th' affrighted skies.

But when mischief mortals bend their will, How soon they find fit instruments of ill!

Sir Plume, of amber snuff-box justly vain, And the nice conduct of a clouded cane.

Coffee, which makes the politician wise, And see through all things with his half-shut eyes.