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Now skulking miscreants leave their murky lairs, 

 And Crime, abroad, its stealthy purpose dares 

 While on the roofs, Grimalkin amorous roves, 

 And cooks, o er railings, tell their greasy loves. 



Waves Morpheus over some his dewy wand, 



And wafts, from daily care, far into land 



Of dreams fantastic, where each simmering brain 



Selects its visions, and lives o er again 



In past delights ; or wild imagination 



Builds new ideas, in queer confederation 



Less favored some, the hideous Night-hag strides, 



And till the morn, on breast or belly rides, 



Pummels the brain, or sucks the yielding breath, 



Holding her struggling victim fast beneath. 



Others unite, for pleasure, or for gain, 



For cares religious, or for joys profane; 



Each varied taste, to follow its desires, 



As reason or folly, whim or wine inspires. 



Some worship at Euterpe s favored shrine, 

 Where bassos bellow, and where tenors whine ; 

 And Prima Donna, through three acts insane, 

 At length, sings back her brains again ; 



