MY ever dear an’ worthy aunty,
Wha ne’er o’ wit nor lear was vaunty;
Yet often could, like honest grandam,
Unravel dreams; an’ whiles, at random,
Did truth in mystic terms declare,
Which made us aft wi’ wonder stare.
Last night, when Morpheus softly hurl’d
His silken sceptre o’er the world,
Some anxious cares within my breast