And oft, amid mirth’s unrestricted din,
Would Time with softer foot, and swifter pass.
The husband here his noisy revel kept,
While by her lonely hearth the good wife wept.
At lazy twilight, ’neath yon ancient elm,
The village statesmen met in grave debate,
And sagely told, if at their country’s helm,
How bravely they would steer the ship of state
From treacherous quicksands or from leeward shore,
And all they said, betrayed their wondrous lore.