And by fate, so justly called 'the parent of adventures,'
I stood at the door of a house and improvised these words:--
"'Inmates of this abode, all hail! all hail!
Long may you live in plenty's verdant vale.
Oh, grant your aid to one by toil opprest,
Way-worn, benighted, destitute, distrest;
Whose tortured entrails only hunger hold
(For since he tasted food two days are told);
A wretch who finds not where to lay his head,
Though brooding night her weary wing hath spread,