Like lightning greased,—or, as at Ballyshannon
Sublimed, “greased lightning shot out of a cannon.”
For, ever since the letter left his hand,
His mind had been in vacillating motion,
Dodge-dodging like a fluster’d crab on land,
That cannot ask its way, and has no notion
If right or left leads to the German Ocean—
Hatred and Love by turns enjoy’d monopolies,
Till, like a Doctor following his own potion,