Then only echo’d to th’ unvarying sound
Of drowsy watchmen, pacing their dull round,
Kiddies no more at Glue or Brilliant sup,
And e’en the far-fam’d Finish was done up.
All rest in sleep! save—those who were awake—
The wicked wags who stole the fiddlers’ cake.
Not in more silence did Ulysses tread,
When he relentless struck king Rhesus dead;
Not with more caution did the invading Gaul
Attempt to storm the Capitolian wall;