“Go on,” the ’Squire in happy temper cried;
“I like such blunder! I approve such guide.”
They ride, they halt, the farmer comes in haste,
Then tells his wife how much their house is graced;
They bless the chance, they praise the lucky son.
That caused the error - Nay! it was not one,
But their good fortune: cheerful grew the ’Squire,
Who found dependants, flattery, wine, and fire;
He heard the jack turn round; the busy dame
Produced her damask; and with supper came