Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind’s sway
That, hush’d in grim repose, marks Jemmy for its prey.
VI.
Fill high the Audit bowl!
The feast in hall prepare!
Reft of his robes, he yet may share the feast,
Close by the Master’s chair,
Contempt and laughter scowl
A baleful smile upon their baffled guest.
Heard ye the din of battle bray,