The moping nymph Tantarra bore.
Come, but keep your wonted state
On a horse of sluggish gait;
Your looks commencing with the ground,
Where the close-crouching hare is found;
And as across the lands you creep,
Forget yourself and fall asleep
Till the dull steed shall break your nap,
Stumbling through the accustom’d gap.
And first the waddling beagle bring,