‘Bah!—bother!—blarney!—What is this about?’
“Love, lover, longing, in an instant fled,— 380
Now I had vice and impudence to dread;
And all my high-wrought fancies died away
To woman’s trouble, terror, and dismay.
“‘What,’ said the wretch, ‘what is it you would have?
Would’st hang a man for peeping in a grave?
Search me yourself, and try if you can feel
Aught I have taken—there was nought to steal:
’Twas told they buried with the corpse enough