Then lead me to my cot again!”
TALE XI.
THE MERCHANT.
I.
Lo! one appears, to whom if I should dare
To say farewell, the lordly man would stare,
Would stretch his goodly form some inches higher,
And then, without a single word, retire;
Or from his state might haply condescend
To doubt his memory—“Ha! your name, my friend?”
He is the master of these things we see: