XXXIII

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XXXIII

Yet on a frosty winter day

The journey in a sledge doth please,

No senseless fashionable lay

Glides with a more luxurious ease;

For our Automedons are fire

And our swift troikas never tire;

The verst posts catch the vacant eye

And like a palisade flit by.

The Làrinas unwisely went,

From apprehension of the cost,

By their own horses, not the post⁠—

So Tania to her heart’s content

Could taste the pleasures of the road.

Seven days and nights the travellers plod.