The sage, who said he should be proud
Of windows in his breast,[1]
Because he ne'er a thought allow'd
That might not be confest;
His window scrawl'd by every rake,
His breast again would cover,
And fairly bid the devil take
The diamond and the lover.
[Footnote 1: See on this "Notes and Queries," 10th S., xii,
497.--_W. E. B._]