And I said, "Miss Julia Belmont, speak, and speak the truth to me,
Wilt thou from this fairy region with a heart congenial flee?"
On her lovely cheek and forehead came a blushing through her paint,
And she sank upon my bosom in the semblance of a faint;
Then she turned, her voice was broken (so, if I must tell the truth,
Was her English—all I pardoned in the generous warmth of youth),
Saying, "Pray excuse my feelings, nothing wrong, indeed, is meant,"
Saying, "Will you be my loveyer?" weeping, "you are quite the gent."
Love took up the glass before me, filled it foaming to the brim,
Love changed every comic ballad to a sweet euphonious hymn!