More valued by me than a chat with Acerbi,
Of whose travels—related in elegant phrases—
I have seen many extracts, and heard many praises,
And have copied (you know I let nothing escape)
His striking account of the frozen North Cape.
I think ’twas in his works I read long ago
(I’ve not the best memory for dates, as you know,)
Of a warehouse, where sugar and treacle were stored,
Which took fire (I suppose being made but of board)
In the icy domains of some rough northern hero,