Now, who dares lag? KOTTWITZ.

At other times we reign by night alone, 490 And posting through the skies pursue the moon; But when the morn arises, none are found; For cruel Demogorgon walks the round, And if he finds a fairy lag in light, He drives the wretch before, and lashes into night.

The young, fair Spring, is tripping o'er the Earth, With feet that ne'er can know the lag of age; The Earth, her lover, conscious of her worth, Flings down all his rich treasures to engage That blushing wanderer: but she journeys forth Heedless of all his offerings.

Play might relieve the lagging morn: By cards long wintry nights are borne: Does not quadrille amuse the fair, Night after night, throughout the year?