And ascending, I flew back to Paradise, singing of Justice;
Where, fill’d with divine expectation of merited favour,
The gathering host look’d to him, in whom all their hopes center’d,
As the everlasting hand; and I, too, press’d forward to obtain—
But old recollections withheld me; down, down, dropped my sack-but,
And my feet, methought slid, and I fell precipitate. Starting,
Then I awoke, with my hair up, and lo! my young days were before me,
Dark yet distinct; but instead of the voice of the honest,
I heard only Murray’s Yap! yap! and hop! hop! through the silence of evening:
Yap! hop! and hop! yap! and hence came the hop, step, and jump of my verses.