THE BLACK MOUSQUETAIRE.
L'Envoye.
A moral more in point I scarce could hope Than this, from Mr. Alexander Pope.
If ever chance should bring some Cornet gay, And pious Maid,—as, possibly, it may,— From Knightsbridge Barracks, and the shades serene Of Clapham Rise, as far as Kensal Green; O'er some pale marble when they join their heads To kiss the falling tears each other sheds; Oh! may they pause!—and think, in silent awe, He, that he reads the words, "Ci gît St. Foix!"— She, that the tombstone which her eye surveys Bears this sad line,—"Hic jacet Sœur Therèse!"— Then shall they sigh, and weep, and murmuring say, "Oh! may we never play such tricks as they!"— And if at such a time some Bard there be, Some sober Bard, addicted much to tea And sentimental song—like Ingoldsby— If such there be—who sings and sips so well, Let him this sad, this tender story tell! Warn'd by the tale, the gentle pair shall boast, "I've 'scaped the Broken Heart!"—"and I the Ghost!!"
FOOTNOTES:
[19] Mrs. Ingoldsby, who is deeply read in Robertson, informs me that this is a mistake; that the lady to whom this memorable billet was delivered by the hands of Pennalosa, was the unfortunate monarch's mamma, and not his sister. I would gladly rectify the error, but, then,—what am I to do for a rhyme?—On the whole, I fear I must content myself, like Talleyrand, with admitting that "it is worse than a fault—it's a blunder!" for which enormity,—as honest old Pepys says when he records having kissed his cookmaid,—"I humbly beg pardon of Heaven, and Mrs. Ingoldsby!"