And show the progress of the rosy wine.
But there she ended—felt the singing head,
Then pray’d as custom will’d, and so to bed. 340
The morn was pleasant, and the ancient maid
With her fair niece about the mansion stray’d;
There was no room without th’ appropriate tale
Of blood and murder, female sprite or male;
There was no picture that th’ historic dame
Pass’d by and gave not its peculiar fame;
The births, the visits, weddings, burials, all