Each thought subsides, and sweet oblivion wraps
My peaceful brain, as if the leaden rod
Of magic morpheus o’er mine eyes had shed
Its opiate influence. What though sore ills
Oppress, dire want of chill-dispelling coals
Or cheerful candle (save the make-weight’s gleam
Haply remaining) heart rejoicing ALE
Cheers the sad scene, and every want supplies.
Meantime, not mindless of the daily task
Of tutor sage, upon the learned leaves