As the serpent did Eve
Most sorely deceive—
Causing old father Adam to sorrow and grieve,
And us, his frail children, tho' punished and chidden,
To hanker for things that are sweet but forbidden—
The Captain so fair,
With his genius so rare,
Wound the web of enchantment round Mrs. McNair;
And alas, fickle Helen, ere three days were over,
She had sworn to elope with her brass-buttoned lover.
Like Helen, the Greek,
She was modest and meek,
And as fair as a rose, but a trifle too weak.
When a maid she had suitors as proud as Ulysses,
But she ne'er bent her neck to their arms or their kisses,
Till McNair he came in
With a brush on his chin—
It was love at first sight—but a trifle too thin;
For, married, the dreams of her girlhood fell short all,
And she found that her husband was only a mortal.
Dear ladies, betray us—
Fast and loose play us—
We'll follow you still like bereaved Menelaus,
Till the little blind god with his cruel shafts slay us.
Cold-blooded as I am,
If a son of old Priam
Should break the Mosaic commands and defy 'em,
And elope with my "pet," and moreover my riches,
I would follow the rogue if I went upon crutches
To the plains of old Troy without jacket or breeches.
But then I'm so funny
If he'd give up the money,
He might go to the dogs with himself and his "Honey."
The lovers agreed
That the hazardous deed
Should be done in the dark and with very great speed,
For Mr. McNair—when the fellow came back—
Might go crazy and foolishly follow their track.
So at midnight should wait
At her garden-gate
A carriage to carry the dear, precious freight
Of Mrs. McNair who should meet Captain Brown
At the Globe Hotel in a neighboring town.
A man should be hired
To convey the admired.
And keep mum as a mouse, and do what was desired.
Wearily, wearily half the night
The lady watched away;
At times in a spirit of sadness quite,
But fully resolved on her amorous flight,
She longed to be under way;
Yet with sad heaving heart and a tear, I declare,
As she sorrowfully thought of poor Mr. McNair.
"Poor fellow," she sighed,
"I wish he had died
Last spring when he had his complaint in the side
For I know—I am sure—it will terribly grieve him
To have me elope with the Captain and leave him.
But the Captain—dear me!
I hardly can see
Why I love the brave Captain to such a degree:
But see—there's the carriage, I vow, at the gate!
I must go—'tis the law of inveterate fate."
So a parting look
At her home she took,
While a terrible conflict her timid soul shook;
Then turned to the carriage heart-stricken and sore,
Stepped hastily in and closed up the door.
"Crack!" went the whip;
She bit her white lip,
And away she flew on her desperate trip.
She thought of dear Brown; and poor Mr. McNair—
She knew he would hang himself straight in despair.
She sighed
And she cried
All during the ride,
And endeavored—alas, but she could not decide.
Three times she prayed;
Three times she essayed
To call to the driver for pity and aid—
To drive her straight
To her garden-gate,
And break the spell of her terrible fate.
But her tongue was tied—
She couldn't decide,
And she only moaned at a wonderful rate.
No mortal can tell
"What might have befell,"
Had it been a mile more to the Globe Hotel;
But as they approached it she broke from her spell.
A single hair
For Mr. McNair
She vowed to herself that she did not care;
But the Captain so true
In his coat of blue—
To his loving arms in her fancy she flew.
In a moment or more
They drove up to the door,
And she felt that her trials and troubles were o'er.
The landlord came hastily out in his slippers,
For late he had sat with some smokers and sippers.
As the lady stepped down
With a fret and a frown,
She sighed half aloud, "Where is dear Captain Brown?"
"This way, my dear madam," politely he said,
And straightway to the parlor the lady he led.
Now the light was dim
Where she followed him,
And the dingy old parlor looked gloomy and grim.
As she entered, behold, in contemplative mood,
In the farther corner the bold Captain stood
In his coat of blue:
To his arms she flew;
She buried her face in his bosom so true:
"Dear Captain!—my Darling!" sighed Mrs. McNair;
Then she raised her dark eyes and—Good Heavens'
I declare!—-
Instead of the Captain 'twas—Mr. McNair!
She threw up her arms—she screamed—and she fainted;
Such a scene!—Ah the like of it never was painted.
Of repentance and pardon I need not tell;
Her vows I will not relate,
For every man must guess them well
Who knows much of the "married state."
Of the sad mischance suffice it to say
That McNair had suspected the Captain's "foul play;"
So he laid a snare
For the bold and the fair,
But he captured, alas, only Mrs. McNair;
And the brass-buttoned lover—bold Captain Brown—
Was nevermore seen in that rural town.
Mrs. McNair
Is tall and fair;
Mrs. McNair is slim;
And her husband again is her only care—
She is wonderfully fond of him;
For now he is all the dear lady can wish—he
Is a captain himself—in the State militia.