Page:The life and opinions of Tristram Shandy (Volume 9).pdf/97



Spirit of sweetest humour, who erst didst sit upon the easy pen of my beloved ; Thou who glided'st daily through his lattice, and turned'st the twilight of his prison into noon day brightness by thy presence—tinged'st his little urn of water with heaven-sent Nectar, and all the time he wrote of Sancho and his master, didst cast thy mystic mantle o'er his wither'd stump, and wide extended it to all the evils of his life