With his rat, tat, tat.
His false alarms remember'd still.
Love, now in earnest, fared but ill;
For Leila in her heart could swear,
As still he knock'd, "There's no one there."
A single god, he then essay'd
With single knocks to lure the maid—
With his single knock.
Each passer-by, who watch'd the wight,
Cried "Love, you won't lodge there to-night!"