Of nibbling heroes, bent on wanton play,
Beneath the shelter of some well-stor’d barn,
In many an airy circle wheel around;
Some eye, perchance, in private nook conceal’d,
Beholds Grimalkin; instant they disperse,
In headlong flight, each to his secret cell;
If haply he may ’scape impending fate.
Thus ceas’d the general clamour; all remain
In silent terror wrapt, and thought profound.
Meanwhile, the pedagogue throughout the dome