当朋友或命运在米拉的歌声中皱眉，或阴云遮蔽了白昼的灯火;悲伤的米拉额头低垂，四肢酸痛，头痛难忍，老是胡思乱想，她发誓要戒掉这可爱的罪恶。然而，她又以韵律告别，悔恨不已。但你看(比阿米达的怀尔斯更迷人)，太阳又回来了，艾特弥斯笑了，一眨眼，决心就飞了;还有谁能像缪斯和我一样嬉闹?我们再次歌唱，听从她的召唤;我们再一次歌唱;这是克兰布尔府;那破旧的宅院，它那好客的大门曾使陌生人吃饱，使穷人得到救济;这里的哥特式塔楼和锈迹斑斑的尖顶，自古以来就为骑士和饥饿的乡绅所熟知。那儿还发现了散了粉的牛肉和看守派。 And Pudden dwelt within her spacious Bound: Pork, Peas, and Bacon (good old English Fare!), With tainted Ven'son, and with hunted Hare: With humming Beer her Vats were wont to flow, And ruddy Nectar in her Vaults to glow. Here came the Wights, who battled for Renown, The sable Friar, and the russet Clown: The loaded Tables sent a sav'ry Gale, And the brown Bowls were crown'd with simp'ring Ale; While the Guests ravag'd on the smoking Stove, Till their stretch'd Girdles would contain no more. Of this rude Palace might a Poet sing From cold December to returning Spring; Tell how the Building spreads on either Hand, And two grim Giants o'er the Portals stand; Whose grisled Beards are neither comb'd nor shorn, But look severe, and horribly adorn. Then step within -- there stands a goodly Row Of oaken Pillars -- where a gallant Show Of mimic Pears and carv'd Pomgranates twine, With the plump Clusters of the spreading Vine. Strange Forms above, present themselves to View; Some Mouths that grin, some smile, and some that spew. Here a soft Maid or Infant seems to cry: Here stares a Tyrant, with distorted Eye: The Roof -- no Cyclops e'er could reach so high: Not Polyphemus, tho' form'd for dreadful Harms, The Top could measure with extended Arms. Here the pleas'd Spider plants her peaceful Loom: Here weaves secure, nor dreads the hated Broom. But at the Head (and furbish'd once a year) The Herald's mystic Compliments appear: Round the fierce Dragon Honi Soit twines, And Royal Edward o'er the Chimney shines. Safely the Mice through yon dark Passage run, Where the dim windows ne'er admit the sun. Along each Wall the Stranger blindly feels; And (trembling) dreads a Spectre at his Heels. The sav'ry kitchen much Attention calls: Westphalia Hams adorn the sable Walls: The Fires blaze; the greasy Pavements fry; And steaming Odours from the Kettles fly. See! yon brown Parlour on the Left appears, For nothing famous, but its leathern Chairs, Whose shining Nails like polish'd Armour glow, And the dull clock beat, audible and slow. But on the Right we spy a Room more fair: The Form -- 'tis neither long, nor round, nor square; The Walls how lofty, and the Floor how wide, We leave for learned Quadrus to decide. Gay China Bowls o'er the broad Chimney shine, Whose long Description would be too sublime: And much might of the Tapestry be sung: But we're content to say, The Parlour's hung. We count the Stairs, and to the Right ascend, Where on the Walls the gorgeous Colours blend. There doughty George bestrides the goodly Steed; The Dragon's slaughter'd, and the Virgin freed: And there (but lately rescu'd from their Fears) The Nymph and serious Ptolemy appears: Their awkward Limbs unwieldy are display'd; And, like a Milk-wench, [glares] the royal Maid. From thence we turn to more familiar Rooms; Whose Hangings ne'er wer wrought in Grecian Looms; Yet the soft Stools, and eke the lazy Chair, To sleep invite the Weary, and the Fair. Shall we proceed? -- Yes, if you'll break the Wall: If not, return, and tread once more the Hall. Up ten stone steps now please to drag your Toes, And a brick Passage will succeed to those. Here the strong Doors were aptly framed to hold Sir Wary's Person, and Sir Wary's Gold. Here Biron sleeps, with Books encircled round; And him you'd guess a student most profound. Not so -- in Form the dusty Volumes stand: There's few that wear the Mark of Biron's Hand. Would you go farther? -- Stay a little then: Back thro' the Passage -- [up] the Steps again; Thro' yon dark Room -- Be careful how you tread Up these steep Stairs -- or you may break your Head. These Rooms are furnish'd amiably, and full: Old shoes, and Sheep-ticks bred in Stacks of Wool; Grey Dobbin's gears, and Drenching-Horns enow; Wheel-spokes -- the Irons of a tatter'd Plough. No farther -- Yes, a little higher, pray: At yon small Door you'll find the Beams of Day,