That she never before on a man cast an eye;
But I, delving back through the layers of Time,
Exhume the pale ghost of a youth in his prime,
Whose feelings were tortured, whose reason was muddied,
Whose pistol was emptied, whose temple was ruddied;
Because of coquetry so heartless and strange,
Her passion for diamonds, her longing for change.
Pass on, happy bride, with your beaming young face;
May happiness still with your moments keep pace,
And never mistrust pierce the groom at your side