THE SOLDIER'S WIFE

Being the Quintessence of all the Dactylics that ever were or ever will be written.

Wearisome Sonnetteer, feeble and querulous,

Painfully dragging out thy demo-cratic lays—

Moon-stricken Sonnetteer, 'ah! for thy heavy chance!'

Sorely thy Dactylics lag on uneven feet:

Slow is the Syllable which thou would'st urge to speed,

Lame and o'erburden'd, and 'screaming its wretchedness!'

* * * * *[61]

Ne'er talk of Ears again! look at thy Spelling-book;

Dilworth and Dyche are both mad at thy quantities—

Dactylics, call'st thou 'em?—'God help thee, silly one!'