| 1 |
O
Danton, great was your mistake,
And you had cause to rue it;
One can carry one's country away on the soles
Of one's boots—one can certainly do it.
dt
text .
|
•
note.
•
•
|
| 2 |
Half
of the kingdom of Bückeburg
I bore on my own shoe-leather.
I never saw in all my life
Such shocking roads and weather.
dt
text .
|
•
x |
| 3 |
To
look at the home whence our family sprang,
At Bückeburg I tarried;
For this was my grandfather's native town;
A Hamburg wife he married.
dt
text .
|
•
x |
| 4 |
We
arrived in Hanover at noon,
And I spent my time in moving
About the place, when my boots were brushed—
Travel should be improving.
dt
text .
|
•
x |
| 5 |
And
heavens! how fine and spruce it was!
No mud allowed in the streets here;
Magnificent buildings on every hand—
Imposing piles—one meets here.
dt
text .
|
•
x |
| 6 |
I
was specially pleased with a spacious square,
Walled round by houses stately.
'Twas here the king in his palace dwelt;
The exterior charmed me greatly.
dt
text .
|
•
x |
| 7 |
(Of
the palace, I mean.) A sentry-box
Stood on either side the portal.
The redcoats with muskets, keeping guard,
Seemed fierce to a timid mortal.
dt
text .
|
|
| 8 |
''This
is where Ernest Augustus lives,"
My guide went on expounding;
"A Tory lord of the good old school;
For his age, of a vigour astounding.
dt
text .
|
•
x |
| 9 |
"In
idyllic safety he houses here,
More secure for the courage lacking
In some whom we know and could easily name
Than for all his guardsmen's backing.
dt
text .
|
•
x |
| 10 |
"I
have heard him complain of his dreary post
In a manner to waken one's pity:
Of this office of king he's condemned to fill
In Hanover our city.
dt
text .
|
|
| 11 |
"After
English life, he feels ours here
Too narrow and unprogressive;
He's afraid he will hang himself yet for spleen,
His boredom's so excessive.
dt
text .
|
|
| 12 |
"When
I saw him the day before yesterday,
His own royal back was bending
Above the fire while he cooked a draught
For some dogs that needed tending."
dt
text .
|
|
