The moment the Emperor's bell had rung, The attendants into his chamber hied, There were Hi-ski-hi, No-go, Tung-lung, Long-chin, Tay-tin, and a lot beside, Who, with many more, Fell flat on the floor, When they entered the door Of the room where the moon's own son, When the toils of the day are o 'er, And his daily course of dignity 's run, Condescends to sleep, and perchance, to snore. Then Tao-Kwang started up in his bed, And dashing his night-cap off his head, With a flashing eye, and a countenance pale, |