POEMS. THE EPIC. AT Francis Allen's on the Christmas-eve,- I bump'd the ice into three several stars, The parson taking wide and wider sweeps, Now hawking at Geology and schism; Right thro' the world, "at home was little left, "And I," quoth Everard, "by the wassail-bowl.” 66 66 Why yes," I said, we knew your gift that way At college: but another which you had, I mean of verse (for so we held it then,) What came of that?" "You know," said Frank, "he flung And then to me demanding why? "Oh, sir, God knows: he has a mint of reasons: ask. |