In eye of timid dreamer—
The nervous finger of a sot
Ne’er show’d a plainer tremor;
To every brain it seem’d too plain,
There stood th’ Infernal Schemer!
Mix’d brown and blue each visage grew,
Just like a pullet’s gizzard;
Meanwhile the captain’s wandering wit,
From tacking like an izzard,
Bore down in this plain course at last,