Through all her artful mazes running,
Untwisting every knotty wile
Both of the double and the foil;
In notes with many a winding bout
Of drowsy murmurings long-drawn out,
Bewailing their dull master’s folly,
Most pitiful, most melancholy,
But chiefly let the Southern’s tongue
Drag its deep dismal tone along,
In bellowings loud, and utterance hoarse,