Sounds gutt'ral, like the hoarsely croaking race
Upon the banks of some pellucid stream.
Scarce had he finish'd, when salutes his ears
The mingled noise upon the dusty floor
Reverberated. Down the shaver sits
Well-pleas'd. And next upstarts Hibernia's son,
Like some enthusiast on a tripod rais'd
With apish gesture, and with strange grimace,
To rant unto the multitude. The cork
Intruded swift into the candle's blaze