To count his beads in solemn shrift—
(For his shape below was wide to see
All bloated with the hydropsie.)
Oh! had her old father the secret known,
He had stood as stark as the statue of stone
That stands so silent, and white, and tall,
At the upper end of his banquet hall!
Am I asleep or am I awake?
In very truth I oft mistake,
As the stories of old come over my brain,