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lxxii.

'Twas a propitious moment; for a while

The waves of party were at rest. Upon
Each complacent brow was gay good-humor's smile:
And there was much of wit, and jest, and pun,
And high amid the circle, in great glee,
Sat Croaker's old acquaintance, John Targee.

lxxiii.

His jokes excelled the rest, and oft he sang

Songs, patriotic, as in duty bound.
He had a little of the "nasal twang
Heard at conventicle;" but yet you found
In him a dash of purity and brightness,
That spoke the man of taste and of politeness.

lxxiv.

For he had been, it seems, the bosom friend

Of England's prettiest bard, Anacreon Moore.
They met when he, the bard, came here to lend
His mirth and music to this favorite shore;
For, as the proverb saith, "birds of a feather
Instinctively will flock and fly together."

lxxv.

The winds that wave thy cedar boughs are breathing,

"Lake of the Dismal Swamp!" that poet's name;