"Where, oh! where, my upper story,
Wilt thou be to-morrow night?
Into what a mess, for glory,
Rushes bold and amorous wight!"
Jack dons, meanwhile,
His "knowing tile,"—
How ripe he looked for a regular "lark;"
He asks about,
And soon finds out,
That the lady was forced to go out in the dark
Every night,
By the pale moon light,
To give the magician, fierce and fell,
All so late,
A tête-à-tête,
In the gloomy depth of a forest dell.
In his coat and his shoes at mail-train pace,
He hies him to the trysting place.
He travels so fast that he does n't get there
Too late, as the saying is, for the fair;
But he has to wait before she comes,
Cooling his heels and biting his thumbs.
IX.
At length appears the warlock, dight
In dressing gown of gramarye;
And, like a spirit of the night,
Elegantly dressed in white,
Approaches now the fair ladye,
And gives him the handkerchief, you see;
"Now!" 'cried courageous Jack, "or never!
Die, catiff, die! "
(And he lets fly)
"Thus from its trunk thy head I sever."
X.
To be a conjuror, 'tis said,
In sooth a man requires a head;
So Jack, by this decapitation,
Dissolved, of course, the conjuration.
The damsel fair, bewitched no more,
Becomes bewitching as before;
Restored to virtue's blooming grace,
Which so improves the female face—
A kalydor of high perfection,
That beautifies the worst complexion.
XI.
The licence was bought, and, the bells ringing gay,
The prince and the lady were married next day,
All decked out so smart in their bridal array.
The happy pair, the nuptials o'er,
Start in a handsome coach-and-four
For good King Arthur's court;
Jack, on the box in easy pride,
Sits by the portly coachman's side—
Oh, my! what bows they sport.
The train behind that followed—oh!
It far outshone the Lord Mayor's show;