Slow-moved along the heather:

Two bays arch-neck'd, with tails erect

And gold upon their blinkers;

And by their side an ass I spied;

It was a travelling tinker's.

The chaise went by, nor aught cared I;

Such things are not in my way;

I turn'd me to the tinker, who

Was loafing down a by-way:

I ask'd him where he lived—a stare