Then up he rose and shook his clothes, and dripping by the way,
Straight homeward sped, and went to bed, where long he sleepless lay;
But natheless at the peep of dawn rose up again alert,
And as beseem'd a penitent put on a hairy shirt.
With humble air he then repair'd unto the Lady's shrine,
And took the vow, as she advised, concerning taking wine;
And thenceforth, as the legend runs, was never after found
In such a plight as on the night when he was nearly drown'd.
Here ends the tale. May it prevail this moral to impress
On good men all, who're apt to fall at times into excess,
To seek the ladies' company when sins or wine entice,
And strive not only for their smiles, but follow their advice.
Now prosper long our lovely Queen, and Albert whom she loves;
And may they, though at eagles' height, live lovingly as doves,
From youthful prime till father Time may change their locks to gray,
While all their Royal progeny "love, honour, and obey!"
May peace long smile on Britain's isle! may Blackwood's Magazine,
If possible, be better still than it hath ever been;
May every thing that's good increase, and what to goodness tends;
And may the writer always have the ladies for his friends!
FOOTNOTES:
[K] "L'Etat. C'est moi!" Quoth some French Roi; but which of the "most Christian" set it was, I do not now recollect, and being from home at this present writing, have no means of reference.