THE SCHOTTISCH PARTNER.
BY MOTTE HALL.
OH, I danced with him the schottisch!
'Twas the first time that we met;
He was such a dashing creature,
With orbs as black as jet.
And he wore a lovely diamond;
How it flashed into my eyes!
As he drew me closely to him
I saw its wondrous size.
Oh, at ball, and rout, and party,
I was his schottisch belle;
He said I danced so charmingly,
And knew the step so well.
And we grew so very loving,
As we stood upon the floor,
That people said the schottisch step
Would lead to Hymen's door.
But, though I schottisched every night,
I reached not Hymen's dwelling;
The god must live a long way off,
But where, there is no telling.
And, only think, one festal night,
The ungrateful, wicked Harry!
I heard my schottisch partner say—
"She'll do—but not to marry.
"She'll do to twirl in mazy dance,
She'll do for giddy pleasure;
She'll do to meet out Folly's gauds
With Fashion's line and measure;
"But she'll not do for sacred home,
A meek and gentle woman,
An angel in her purity,
But in her love a human."