human
O thou very gracious mistress, If you but perceived my hunger, Thought upon my sad condition, You would hurry to the storehouse, To the alehouse like a snowstorm, 430 And a can of ale would fetch me, And a strip of pork would fetch me, In the pan would broil it for me, And would pour some butter on it, That the weary man might eat it, And the fainting hero drink it. Nights and days have I been swimming Out upon the broad lake's billows, With the wind as my protector, At the mercy of the lake-waves.