Where will ye seek me? The Andes rise

Where will ye seek me ? The Andes rise
Silently grand beneath tropical skies ;
And far Himalaya's crowns of snow
Gleam o'er the burning plains below ;
I dwell with each, for the mountain air
Certainly suits me everywhere.
Know ye the silent and death-like realm,
Where winter hath donn'd his glassy helm,
And conquering rules o'er land and sea ?
Beneath his throne is the home for me.
Ye may seek in the gay and brilliant throng,
Where the hours fleet by in dance and song ;
There, martyr-like, I'm sure to be,
Though to venture there may be death to me.
Yet I 'm never afraid of catching cold
(Like some young ladies) however bold.
'T is a wonder my mother should let me go,
But she is remarkably yielding, I know ;
And many who tried us both can say,
She yields directly when I give way.
My character's quite the more solid, I state,
But she is a person of greater weight
Though never convicted of any crime
'T is perfectly true that, for months at a time,
I am starved in a dungeon all damp and bare,
With hardly the half of a prisoner's fare.
I'm rather a traveller, I may tell,
And know the Atlantic routes quite well;

Sometimes on my own account I go,
Sometimes whether I will or no.

When will ye seek me ? The sultry glow
Of a summer noon is the time, I trow,
When the burning pavement and dusty street
Make you long for a rest for your aching feet.

I have done in my time some wonderful things ;

Have been made the dwelling-place of kings ;

Have baffled the general's proud careering ;

Have outdone Stephenson's engineering.

I nevertheless can condescend
To Monsieur Soyer my aid to lend ;

Or, better still, can bring mirth and joy
To the heart of the sturdy village boy.