"Go, lovely boy! to yonder tow'r"

Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife, throughout the sensual world proclaim,

"One crowded hour of glorious life Is worth an age without a name."

"Go then, thou little lovely boy, I can not, must not, hear thee now; and all thy soothing arts employ to sooth my Delia of her wo."

When a shriek loud enough to wake the sleeping giants of Notre Dame is heard ringing thru the halls, you know - if you live in the house of Johnson at any rate -

"Her Lewis" had lost