“Bad wall, bad wall! thy chink is small,
Thy big stones almost hide her:
Why leave the little hole at all
Unless a little wider?
“O will you meet me quite alone
To-morrow night, my dear,
Beyond brass-gated Babylon
Where walls can’t interfere.
“Let’s meet by nine, at Ninus’ tomb,
Under the mulberry-tree,
The moon that lights the sunless gloom
Shall light my love to me.”
’Tis night—the moon has flung her beam
Far down the glowing wave,
Where rolls Euphrates’ silent stream
Fast by the monarch’s grave:—
The night-wind bids the forest groan
And leafy branches reel;—
But, Lord! Who’s this—and all alone—
In such a déshabille.
’Tis Thisbe! hear it, wise mammas,
The lesson’s told concisely,—
Don’t bother Love by bolts and bars,
Or you’ll be diddled nicely!
For though her mother—cross old cat—
Had safely locked her in,
She knew a trick worth two of that,
And didn’t care a pin.
She soon escaped—no matter how—
And ere the bell tolled nine,
Sat trembling where the forest bough
Danced in the pale moonshine.
