send. (He proceeds with Wagner.)
What feelings, great man, must thy breast inspire, At homage paid thee by this
crowd! Thrice blest Who from the gifts by him possessed Such benefit can
draw! The sire Thee to his boy with reverence shows; They press around,
inquire, advance, Hush'd is the fiddle, check'd the dance. Where thou dost
pass they stand in rows, And each aloft his bonnet throws, But little fails and
they to thee, As though the Host came by, would bend the knee.
A few steps further, up to yonder stone! Here rest we from our walk. In times