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.