A Century of Parody and Imitation

by Unknown

Have more appreciation of the trencher.

I go. One pound of British beef, and then

What Mr. Swiveller called 'a modest quencher';

That, home-returning, I may 'soothly say,'

'Fate cannot touch me: I have dined to-day.'

WANDERERS.

(TENNYSON)

As o'er the hill we roam'd at will,

My dog and I together,

We mark'd a chaise, by two bright bays