XII.

The victim falls into the snare.

Of the fatal pudding she did partake,
Most fearful for to see,
And an hour arter was to it a martyr,
Launch’d into eternity.

XIII.

He feels that his perception comes too late.

Ah! had I then but viewed things in
The light that I now does ’em,
I never should have know’d the grief
As burns in this here buzum.

XIV.