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ever poor. 9. But a disease soon struck into The very life and soul of Peter-- He walked about--slept--had the hue 695 Of health upon his cheeks--and few Dug better--none a heartier eater. 10. And yet a strange and horrid curse Clung upon Peter, night and day; Month after month the thing grew worse, 700 And deadlier than in this my verse I can find strength to say. 11. Peter was dull--he was at first Dull--oh, so dull--so very dull! Whether he talked, wrote, or rehearsed-- 705 Still with this dulness was he cursed-- Dull--beyond all conception--dull. 12. No one could read his books--no mortal, But a few natural friends, would hear him; The parson came not near his portal; 710 His state was like that of the immortal Described by Swift--no man could bear him. 13. His sister, wife, and children yawned, With a long, slow, and drear ennui, All human patience far beyond; 715 Their hopes of Heaven each would have pawned, Anywhere else to be. 14. But in his verse, and in his prose, The essence of his dulness was Concentred and compressed so close, 720 'Twould have made Guatimozin doze On his red gridiron of brass. 15. A printer's boy, folding those pages, Fell slumbrously upon one side; Like those famed Seven who slept three ages. 725 To wakeful frenzy's vigil--rages, As opiates, were the same applied. 16. Even the Reviewers who were hired To do the work of his reviewing, With adamantine nerves, grew tired;-- 730 Gaping and torpid they retired, To dream of what they should be doing. 17. And worse and worse, the drowsy curse Yawned in him, till it grew a pest-- A wide contagious atmosphere, 735 Creeping like cold through all things near; A power to infect and to infest. 18. His servant-maids and dogs grew dull; His kitten, late a sportive elf; The woods and lakes, so beautiful, 740 Of dim stupidity were full. All grew dull as Peter's self. 19. The earth under his feet--the springs, Which lived within it a quick life, The air, the winds of many wings, 745 That fan it with new murmurings, Were dead to their harmonious s
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