The Hostel, or Inn, X

The dinner’s o’er, the circling glass Now full, now emptier, passes round, As strikes the ear, the pleasing sound Of jovial song, or toasted lass: But short, alas! this tabled glee; For who the coming woe might see!

—Said I, D——h’s much honoured chair Might not be filled by any there; And, said I, it was right that he, Though absent from the company, With honour due should treated be; D——h, so honoured for his worth, For rank, for titles, and for birth, Had not an equal here on earth, To fill his vacant chair: So one and all, with one consent, Their voice have given, and vote have lent, To let the seat be bare:

(Friend Walter, I am certain quite, You’ll say both voice and vote went right).