Oh! little maid!—(I do not know your name,
Or who you are, so, as a safe precaution
I'll add)—Oh, buxom widow! married dame!
(As one of these must be your present portion)
Listen, while I unveil prophetic lore for you,
And sing the fate that Fortune has in store for you.
You'll marry soon—within a year or twain—
A bachelor of circa two-and-thirty,
Tall, gentlemanly, but extremely plain,