The members lie, the mind, without restraint
Can flit, and re-enact by night, the deeds
That occupied the day. The warrior fierce,
Who cities shakes and towns destroys by fire
Maneuvering armies sees, and javelins,
And funerals of kings and bloody fields.

The cringing lawyer dreams of courts and trials,
The miser hides his hoard, new treasures finds:
The hunter's horn and hounds the forests wake,
The shipwrecked sailor from his hulk is swept.
Or, washed aboard, just misses perishing.
Adultresses will bribe, and harlots write
To lovers: dogs, in dreams their hare still course;
And old wounds ache most poignantly in dreams!"

"Still, what's to prevent our searching the ship?" said Lycas, after he
had expiated Tryphaena's dream, "so that we will not be guilty of
neglecting the revelations of Providence?" "And who were the rascals who
were being shaved last night by the light of the moon?" chimed in Hesus,
unexpectedly, for that was the name of the fellow who had caught us at
our furtive transformation in the night. "A rotten thing to do, I swear!
From what I hear, it's unlawful for any living man aboard ship to shed
hair or nails, unless the wind has kicked up a heavy sea."




CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTH.