(And scarce gave time for fear)
The jewelled doll, who sprang from kings,
With farded cheek and flashing rings,
And left him lying here.
He sat upon a throne, pardye,
The ancient throne of Muscovy,
Smiling a harlot's smile,
And gave—the painted popinjay—
The word which no man might gainsay,
Tossing his curls the while.