Time was, when even the rigid and the wise
Might scan my levities with lenient eyes;
Cast in a mould denied to other men—
(Great Jove will hardly use it soon again)—
If not with wit, at least with words at will,
The wish to please—and, shall I say, the skill?
Peers, parsons, players, applauded as I spoke,
And Huntly loved, and Scott endured the joke.
Each look would set the table in a roar:
And when the look was grave, men laughed the more.