Betwixt the chimney-pots of Mrs. Lindo,
And Todd and Sturch’s cheapest of all shops
For ribbons, laces, muslins, silks, and fops:—
Meanwhile, as she upraised her face so Grecian,
And eyes suffused with scintillating drops,
Lorenzo looked, too, o’er the blinds venetian,
To see the sphere so troubled with repletion.
“The Moon!” he cried, and an electric spasm
Seem’d all at once his features to distort,
And fix’d his mouth, a dumb and gaping chasm—