Though pleased to see the dolphins play

Avarice, sphincter of the heart.

Nor bigots who but one way see, Through blinkers of authority.

To cure the mind's wrong bias, Spleen, Some recommend the bowling green; Some, hilly walks; all, exercise; Fling but a stone, the giant dies.

Fling but a stone, the giant dies.

Thus I steer my bark, and sail On even keel, with gentle gale.

The scene was changed. It was a bark that slowly held its way, And o'er its lee the coast of France in the light of evening lay; And on its deck a lady sat, who gazed with tearful eyes Upon the fast receding hills that dim and distant rise.