Known the fearful, awful misery which for me Fate had in store,
Then, and now, and evermore!
Scarcely to my friends I’d shown it, when (my mother’s dreadful groan!—it
Haunts me even now!) the parrot from his perch began to pour
Forth the most tremendous speeches, such as Mr. Ainsworth teaches—
Us were uttered by highway men and rapparees of yore!—
By the wicked, furious, tearing, riding rapparees of yore;
But which now are heard no more.
And my father, straight uprising, spake his mind—It was surprising,
That this favourite son, who’d never, never so transgressed before,