A Sleeper's nose is made on the same plan As the small wire 'twixt a Doll's wooden thighs; For pull the nose, or wire, the Doll, or Man, Will open, in a minute, both their eyes. This mode Sir Thomas took,--and, in a trice, Grasp'd, with his thumb and finger, like a vice, That feature which the human face embosses, And pull'd the Duke of Limbs by the proboscis. The Man awoke, and goggle'd on his master;-- He saw his Master goggling upon him;-- Fresh from concluding, on a Friar's nob, What Coroners would call an awkward job, He glare'd, all horror-struck and grim,-- Paler than Paris-plaister! His hair stuck up, like bristles on a pig;-- So Garrick look'd, when he perform'd Macbeth; Who, ere he entered, after Duncan's death, Rumple'd his wig. The Knight cried, "Follow me!"--with strange grimaces; The Man arose,-- And began "sacrificing to the Graces,"[9] By putting on his clothes; But he reverse'd, in making himself smart, A Scotchman's toilet, altogether: And merely clapp'd a cover on that part The Highlanders expose to wind and weather. They reach'd the bower where the Friar lay; When, to his Man, The Knight began, In doleful accents, thus to say: "Here a fat Friar lies, kill'd with a mauling, For coming, in the dark, a-caterwauling; Whom I (O cursed spite!) did lay so!" Thus, solemnly, Sir Thomas spake, and sigh'd;-- To whom the Duke of Limbs replied-- "Odrabbit it! Sir Thomas! you don't say so!" Then, taking the huge Friar _per_ the hocks, He whirl'd the ton of blubber three times round, And swung it on his shoulders, from the ground, With strength that yields, in any age, to no man's,-- Tho' Milo's ghost should rise, bearing the Ox He carried at the games of the old Romans. Nay, I opine--let Fame say what it can-- Of ancient vigour, (Fame is, oft, a Liar) That Milo was a pigmy to this Man, And his fat Ox quite skinny to the Friar. Besides,--I hold it in much doubt If Roman graziers (should the truth come out) Were, like the English, knowing in the matter;-- --I wouldn't breed my beast _more Romano_;-- For, I suspect, in fatt'ning they were dull, And when they made an ox out of a bull, They fed him ill,--and, then, he got no fatter Than a fat opera _Soprano_.[10] [10] I am aware that much has been said, of old, relative to the "_cura boum_," and the "_optuma torvae forma bovis_;"--but, for a show of cattle, I would back Smithfield, or most of our English market Towns, against any _forum boarium_ of the Romans. Over the moat, (the draw-bridge being down) Gallantly stalk'd the brawny Duke of Limbs, Bearing _Johannes_, of the shaven crown, Fame'd, when alive, for spoiling maids, and hymns; For mangling _Pater-Nosters_, and goose-pies, And telling sundry beads,--and sundry lies.