3. PRIDE. O Countess Gudel of Gudelfeld town, Because you are wealthy, you’re held in renown With not less than four horses contented, At court you are duly presented; In carriage of gold you go lightly To the castle, where waxlights gleam brightly; Up the marble stairs rustle Your clothes with their bustle, And then at the top, on the landing The servants in gay dresses standing Shout: Madame la Comtesse de Gudelfeld! Your fan in your hand, talking loudly, Through the chamber you wander on proudly; With diamonds gaily bedizen’d, In pearls and Brussels lace prison’d, Your snowy bosom with madness Is heaving in uncontroll’d gladness. What smiles, nods, polite interjections! What curtsies and deep genuflexions! The Duchess of Pavia Calls you her _cara mia_; The nobles and courtiers advancing Invite you to join in the dancing; And the heir to the crown (who’s thought witty) Says loudly: How graceful and pretty Are all the _stern_ movements of Gudelfeld! But if, poor creature, you money did lack, The world would straightway show you its back; The very lackeys with loathing Would spit on your clothing; ’Stead of bows and civility, Nought but vulgar scurrility; The Duchess would cross herself rudely, And the Crown Prince take snuff, and say shrewdly: She smells of garlic--this Gudelfeld! 4. AWAY! If by one woman thou’rt jilted, love Another, and so forget her; To pack up thy knapsack, and straight remove From the town will be still better. Thou’lt soon discover a blue lake fair, By weeping willows surrounded; Thy trifling grief thou’lt weep away there, Thy pangs so little founded. Whilst climbing up the hillside fast, Thou’lt pant and groan full loudly; But when on the rocky summit at last, Thou’lt hear the eagle scream proudly. An eagle thyself thou’lt seem to be, New life the change will bestow thee; Thou’lt feel thou hast lost, when thus set free, Not much in the world below thee. 5. WINTER. The cold may burn us sadly Like fire, and mortals hurry Amidst the snowdrift madly, With still-increasing flurry. O winter stern and chilly, When frozen are our noses, And piano-strumming silly Our ears so discomposes! I like the summer only When in the wood I’m roving With my own griefs all-lonely, And scanning verses loving. 6. THE OLD CHIMNEYPIECE. Outside fall the snowflakes lightly Through the night, loud raves the storm In my room the fire glows brightly, And ’tis cosy, silent, warm. Musing sit I on the settle By the firelight’s cheerful blaze, Listening to the busy kettle Humming long-forgotten lays.