Behold the mansion reared by dædal Jack.
See the malt, stored in many a plethoric sack,
In the proud cirque of Ivan’s bivouac.
Mark how the rat’s felonious fangs invade
The golden stores in John’s pavilion laid.
Anon, with velvet foot and Tarquin strides,
Subtle grimalkin to his quarry glides,—
Grimalkin grim, that slew the fierce...