LXXII.

But, if you can contrive, get next at supper; Or, if forestalled, get opposite and ogle:-- Oh, ye ambrosial moments! always upper In mind, a sort of sentimental bogle,[599] Which sits for ever upon Memory's crupper, The ghost of vanished pleasures once in vogue! Ill Can tender souls relate the rise and fall Of hopes and fears which shake a single ball.