“‘Thee, Mary, with this ring I wed,’-- So, sixteen years ago, I said-- Behold another ring--for what? To wed thee o’er again? Why not? With that first ring I married youth, Grace, beauty, innocence and truth, Taste long admir’d, sense long rever’d And all my Mary then appeared. If she, by merit since disclosed, Prove twice the woman I supposed: I plead that double merit now To justify a double vow. Here then to-day (with faith as sure, With ardor as intense and pure, As when amidst the rites divine I took thy troth and plighted mine) To thee, sweet girl, my second ring, A token and a pledge I bring, With this I wed till death us part Thy riper virtues to my heart; Those virtues which, before untried, The wife has added to the bride; Those virtues, whose progressive claim, Endearing wedlock’s very name, My soul enjoys, my song approves, For conscience’ sake, as well as love’s. For why?--They show me hour by hour Honor’s high thought, affection’s power, Discretion’s deed, sound judgment’s sentence, And teach me all things--but repentance.”[378]
And there is a charm and gentleness about the following lines which Dr. Drennan addressed to his wife, with a gift of a ring:
“Emblem of happiness! not bought nor sold; Accept this modest ring of virgin gold. Love, in this small, but perfect, circle trace; And duty, in its soft but strict embrace. Plain, precious, pure, as best becomes the wife; Yet firm to bear the frequent rubs of life. Connubial life disdains a fragile toy, Which rust can tarnish and a touch destroy; Nor much admires what courts the general gaze, The dazzling diamond’s meretricious blaze, That hides, with glare, the anguish of a heart, By nature hard, but polished bright by art. More to thy taste the ornament that shows Domestic bliss and, without glaring, glows, Whose gentle pressure serves to keep the mind To _all_ correct; to _one_ discreetly kind-- Of simple elegance the unconscious charm; The holy amulet to keep from harm. To guard, at once and consecrate, the shrine-- Take this dear pledge:--it makes and keeps thee mine.
§ 26. There is an interesting story in the _Gesta Romanorum_[379] (indeed the whole work is full of pleasing matter) entitled the judgment of Solomon. It is often represented in that illumination which in the ancient manuscripts of the French translation of the Bible by Guiars des Moulins is prefixed to the Proverbs of Solomon, although the story itself does not occur in that Bible. It appears to have been a great favorite in the middle ages; and was often related from the pulpit. A king, in some domestic difference with his wife, had been told by her that one only of her three sons was a true offspring, but which of them was so she refused to discover. This gave him much uneasiness; and his death soon afterwards approaching, he called his children together; and declared, in the presence of witnesses, that he left a ring, which had very singular properties, to him that should be found to be his lawful son. On his death a dispute arose about the ring between the youths--and it was at length agreed to refer its decision to the King of Jerusalem. He immediately ordered that the dead body of the father should be taken up and tied to a tree; that each of the sons should shoot an arrow at it and that he who penetrated the deepest should have the ring. The eldest shot first and the arrow went far into the body; the second shot also and deeper than the other. The youngest son stood at a distance and wept bitterly; but the king said to him: “Young man, take your arrow and shoot as your brothers have done.” He answered, “Far be it from me to commit so great a crime. I would not for the whole world disfigure the body of my own father.” The king said: “Without doubt you are his son, and the others are changelings: to you, therefore, I adjudge the ring.”