If ever I do catch him hereabouts again!
Here in her hair the painter plays the spider,
And hath woven a mesh to entrap
The hearts of men, one of whom am I,
By a large majority, and several counties
And unbribed districts to hear from.
But her eyes! How could he see to do them?
Having made one, methinks it would have power
To steal both his—Ah! blessed thought! I’ll steal
Her picture, now I hear her foot