At which there are none who have been so adept—
That Jabel had journeyed some hundreds of miles
With a herd of slick cattle to win the maid’s smiles,
When she took the whole herd, but she turned him away,
In the Ante-Deluvian Day.
Then Jubel came playing a harp made of gold,
Which he gave the fair maiden a moment to hold,
And leaving, he felt it would be a great wrong
If he then would ungallantly take it along,
Still, for one hundred years he remembered, they say,