Was lying—sure I 'm turned right round at last!
What do you say now, Doctor?" Naught he said,
For why? With one brisk leap the Antic passed
From couch-foot back to pillow,—as before,
Lord of the situation. Long aghast
The Doctor gazed, then "Yet one trial more
Is left me" inwardly he uttered. "Shame
Upon thy flinty heart! Do I implore
"This trifling favor in the idle name
Of mercy to the moribund? I plead