Beauty is in its form and music in its blows.
DYSPEPSIA.
Ah, me! what mischiefs from the stomach rise!
What fatal ills, beyond all doubt or question!
How many a deed of high and bold emprise
Has been prevented by a bad digestion!
I ween the savory crust of filthy pies
Hath made full many a man to quake and tremble,
Filling his stomach with dyspeptic sighs,
Until a huge balloon it doth resemble.