'Mongst all the blossoms
1807?.-----FOOD IN TRAVEL.
ONCE, methought, in the night hours cold,
[written in a post-chaise.]
Sing no more in mournful tones
But show that we are riding.
All their metal doors with mighty shock,And the forms of those we loved below
The kernel brown swells fast;It seeks the air to win,
But the father sprang up, and said, in words full of anger"Little comfort you give me, in truth! I always have said it,When you took pleasure in horses, and cared for nothing but fieldwork;That which the servants of prosperous people perform as their duty,You yourself do; meanwhile the father his son must dispense with,Who in his honour was wont to court the rest of the townsfolk.Thus with empty hopes your mother early deceived me,When your reading, and writing, and learning at school ne'er succeededLike the rest of the boys, and so you were always the lowest.This all comes from a youth not possessing a due sense of honour,And not having the spirit to try and raise his position.Had my father but cared for me, as I have for you, sir,Sent me to school betimes, and given me proper instructors,I should not merely have been the host of the famed Golden Lion."
O'er whom my sway extendeth, love I.Oh, grant me, God in Heaven, that I may ne'er