She found at last her failing side.
Philosophy she had good store,
Had ponder’d Seneca all o’er;
Yet all precautions useless prove
Against the pow’r of mighty love.
It happen’d on a sultry day,
Upon her fav’rite couch she lay,—
’Twas a round dunghill soft and warm,
O’ershadow’d by a neighb’ring barn,—
When lo, her winking eyes behold