And seeks—Oh bliss—the Molly—a tempora fandi.
Meantime the battered pavement is at rest,
And waiters wait in vain to spy a guest,
Thomas himself, Cook, Hanen, Fenton, Long,
Have all left town to join the Margate throng.
The wealthy tailor on the Sussex shore
Displays and drives his blue barouche and four,
The Peer who made him rich, with dog and gun,
Toils o’er a Scottish moor, and braves a scorching sun.”
——:o:——