Fain would I get me to the gorgeous East!
I wonder how my constitution stands
The rigours of this chilly English clime,
This so-called summer, wretched, cold, and wet.
I shiver by the fireside, while the steam
Floats from the damp fields round my country seat,
And racks my agèd bones with rheumatism.
Place me upon some Asiatic throne,
Give me an empire in the realms of morn,
Thither I'd hasten from this bourgeois court