I passed him with his train,
The gathering crowd thronging and clamouring
Around him, stunning him with benedictions,
And stifling him with love and fumes of garlic;
He, with the air he knows so well to don,
With cap in hand, and his thick chestnut hair
Fann'd from his forehead, bowing to his saddle,
Smiling and nodding, cursing at them too
For hindering his progress--while his eye,
His eagle eye, well versed in such discernment,
Roved through the crowd; and ever lighted where
Some pretty ancle, clad in woollen hose,
Peeped from beneath a short round petticoat,
Or where some wealthy burgher's buxom dame,
Decked out in all her high-day splendour, stood
Showing her gossips the gold chain, which lay
Cradled upon a bosom, whiter far
Than the pure lawn that kerchieft it.