All that your thieving hands have stolen away
He will, with interest, to me repay.
Fresh gifts and graces freely he’ll bestow,
More than the heart has wished, or mind can know.
You need not wonder then, nor swell with pride.
That I so kindly welcomed you as guide
To one who’s far your better. Now all’s told.
Let us set out upon our journey cold.
With no vain boasts, no vain regrets tormented.
We’ll quietly jog on our way, contented.