LXIII.

I think I know a trick or two, would turn

Their flanks;—but it is hardly worth my while,

With such small gear to give myself concern:

Indeed I've not the necessary bile;

My natural temper's really aught but stern,

And even my Muse's worst reproof's a smile;

And then she drops a brief and modern curtsy,

And glides away, assured she never hurts ye.

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