For what might be his future fate:
But while the present hour beguiles
His cheerful mind with cheering smiles,
The forward thought would strive to sow
An awkward wrinkle on his brow.
Now, strange as the event appears,
The source of all his hopes and fears
Was on each settled point the same,
And Jeff'ry Gourmand was its name.
The Knight most gen'rous was and free,
And kind as kindest heart could be,
So that Quæ Genus scarce could trace
The humbling duties of his place.
Whate'er he did was sure to please,
No fretful whims appear'd to tease;
And while with fond attention shown,
He did each willing duty own,
Sir Jeff'ry frequent smiles bestow'd,
And many a kind indulgence show'd,
And oftentimes would wants repress
To make his fav'rite's labours less: |
Nay, when he dawdled o'er his meat,
Would nod and bid him take a seat
To share the lux'ry of the treat. | } |
—He fancied, and it might be true,
That none about him e'er could do
What his peculiar wants required,
And in the way he most desired,
As his Quæ Genus, thus he claim'd him,
Whene'er to other folk he nam'd him.
Indeed, he took it in his head
That no one else could warm his bed,
And give it that proportion'd heat
That gave due warmth to either sheet. |