IX.
Like a cliff o'er ocean lowering,
Or some old and cross curmudgeon
Waiting, dinnerless, in dudgeon,
Sits the Giant glumly glowering.
Hears he not a whisper say,
"So there you are, old rascal, eh? "
Hears he not a step approaching,
Though he may n't the comer see?
No; like rogue by streamlet poaching,
Creeps Jack near him stealthily.