That she has cut for good; quick! help her! she’s falling!’
And the next moment on the floor of the cabin she lay sprawling.
Poor Madame! It was in vain that we tried hartshorne, bathing and bleeding;
Her spirit took its flight, tired to death of her high feeding:
For spirits are best content with steady habits and spare diet,
And will remain much longer in a tabernacle where they can enjoy repose and quiet
Than in a body that is continually uneasy with stuffing,
And goes about like an overloaded porter, sweating and puffing.
The next morning at four-bells, the sun was just uprisen,
Glowing with very joy to leave his watery prison;