Bows round the circle, and assumes the chair;
With lemonade he gargles first his throat,
Then sweetly preludes to the liquid note:
And now ’tis silence all. ‘Genius or muse’—
Thus while the flowery subject he pursues,
A wild delirium round th’ assembly flies;
Unusual lustre shoots from Emma’s eyes;
Luxurious Arno drivels as he stands;
And Anna frisks, and Laura claps her hands.
* * * * * * *