““It commenced — ‘“Can I view thee panting, lying On thy stomach, without sighing; Can I unmoved see thee dying On a log Expiring frog!”’ ‘Beautiful!’ said Mr. Pickwick. ‘Fine,’ said Mr. Leo Hunter; ‘so simple.’ ‘Very,’ said Mr. Pickwick. ‘The next verse is still more touching. Shall I repeat it?’ ‘If you please,’ said Mr. Pickwick. ‘It runs thus,’ said the grave man, still more gravely. ‘“Say, have fiends in shape of boys, With wild halloo, and brutal noise, Hunted thee from marshy joys, With a dog, Expiring frog!””
