“O, daughter fair! I am sad to say
That young men now and then betray:
Thy lover, I wis, has thy trust betray’d,
For he presently woos a witching maid:
Her eyes are blue, and, I tell thee this,
She has tempting lips that he fain would kiss;
But courage, my child, thou mayst yet discover
A clue to the heart of this worthless lover.”
He mutter’d, when thus he the maid had cheer’d,
A strange sound that was drown’d in the forky beard;
Then all around loud thunders broke,
And the cave was wrapp’d in fire and smoke,
And that fearsome man has disappear’d
With his flaming eyes and his forky beard;
And Edith weeps in rapture sweet
To find her lover at her feet!
A GLIMPSE OF GRETNA GREEN, IN THE DISTANCE
“My Kate, at the Waterloo column,
To-morrow, precisely at eight;
Remember, thy promise was solemn,
And—thine till to-morrow, my Kate!”
* * * * *
That evening seem’d strangely to linger,
The licence and luggage were packt,
And Time, with a long and short finger,
Approvingly mark’d me exact.
Arrived, woman’s constancy blessing,
No end of nice people I see,
Some hither, some thitherwards pressing,
But none of them waiting for me.
Time passes, my watch how I con it,
I see her—she’s coming—no, stuff!
Instead of Kate’s smart little bonnet,
It is aunt and her wonderful muff!
(Yes! Fortune deserves to be chidden,
It is a coincidence queer,
Whenever one wants to be hidden,
One’s relatives always appear.)