Chapter 263 of 266 · 62 words · ~1 min read

XXIX.

All gone except their saint's religious hops, Which he kept up with more than common flourish; But these, however satisfying crops For the inner man, were not enough to nourish The body politic, which quickly drops Reserve in such sad juncture, and turns currish; So Ahmed soon got cursed for all the famine Where'er the popular voice could edge a damn in.