With the great Duke of Limbs behind him,—
Horror on horror!—he saw John
Where least of all he ever thought to find him:
Stuck up, on end, in placid grace,
Like a stuff’d Kangaroo,—tho’ vastly fatter,—
With the full moon upon his chubby face,
Like a brass pot-lid shining on a platter.
“’Sdeath!” quoth the Knight, of half his powers bereft,
“Didst thou not tell me where this Friar was left?
Men rise again, to push us from our stools!”[14]