“Very good,” said he, taking possession of the key-board, “I will sing for you; but at your peril. The beauty of the song, however, may perhaps be allowed to atone for the deficiencies of my execution. It is by the English composer, Marzials, a man of the rarest genius, too little known out of his own country. He wrote both words and music, and the song is entitled 'Never Laugh at Love.'”
Therewith, to his own accompaniment, he sang in his sweet baritone one of the pleasantest and wittiest songs of its kind that I have ever heard.
Oh, never laugh at Love, Miss, fancy free,
Lest the wanton boy should laugh at thee!
Should he but aim in play his tiny dart—
Ping! 't will break your heart!
I knew a queen with golden hair,
Few so proud, and none so fair;
Her maids and she, one twilight gray,
Went wand'ring down the garden way.