But this was transient, and with angry eye
He sternly look’d, and paused for a reply.
’Twas then the Man of many Words would speak -
But, in his trial, had them all to seek:
To find a friend he look’d the circle round,
But joy or scorn in every feature found;
He sipp’d his wine, but in those times of dread
Wine only adds confusion to the head;
In doubt he reason’d with himself - “And how
Harangue at night, if I be silent now?”