One well aimed jest, one happy hit?
One master stroke on which to dwell,
One salient point its tale to tell?
Our critics stammer, as they stare;
“Wher—where?”—and Echo sobs, “wher—where?”
Now this reminds me of a story,
Which I will try to lay before you:
’Tis of a painting lately made
By Brown, who plies the artist’s trade.
Brown got an order to prepare