7 Anno 1829
Give me a wide and noble field
Where I may perish decently!
O let me in this narrow world
Of shops be not condemned to die!
They eat full well, they drink full well,
And revel in their mole-like bliss;
Their magnanimity’s as great
As any poor-box opening is.
Cigars they carry in their mouths,
Their hands we in their breeches view,
And their digestive powers are great,—
O could we but digest them too!
They trade in every spice that grows
Upon the earth, yet we can trace,
Despite their spices, in the air
The odour of a grovelling race.
Could I some great transgressions, yes,
Colossal bloody crimes but see,—
Aught but this virtue flat and tame,
This solvent strict morality!
Ye clouds on high, O bear me hence,
To some far spot without delay!
To Lapland or to Africa,
To Pomerania e’en—away!
O bear me hence!—They hearken not—
The clouds on high so prudent are!
They fly above this town, to seek
With trembling haste some region far.