Moon-stricken Sonnetteer, 'ah! for thy heavy chance!'
Sorely thy Dactylics lag on uneven feet:
Slow is the Syllable which thou would'st urge to speed,
Lame and o'erburden'd, and 'screaming its wretchedness!'
* * * * *[61]
Ne'er talk of Ears again! look at thy Spelling-book;
Dilworth and Dyche are both mad at thy quantities—
Dactylics, call'st thou 'em?—'God help thee, silly one!'