His heart's pit-a-pat, and is quite on the rack.
But he stopped not to think—'twas the work of a minute,
He snatches his book up to see what is in it.
When, as if spiteful Fate had resolved his disgrace,
He finds out 'tis another popped into its place
By young Patrick O'Neal, who had thought it fine fun;
When the friar, not noticing what he had done,
Placed the book in his bosom and bore it away,
After dining, self-asked, at the cottage one day.
But it now is too late,