My lady comes at last, Timid, and stepping fast, And hastening hither, With modest eyes downcast: She comes--she's here--she's past-- May heaven go with her!
Kneel, undisturb'd, fair Saint! Pour out your praise or plaint Meekly and duly; I will not enter there, To sully your pure prayer With thoughts unruly.
But suffer me to pace Round the forbidden place, Lingering a minute Like outcast spirits who wait And see through heaven's gate Angels within it.
Ho, pretty page, with the dimpled chin, That never has known the Barber's shear, All your wish is woman to win, This is the way that boys begin,-- Wait till you come to Forty Year.
Curly gold locks cover foolish brains, Billing and cooing is all your cheer; Sighing and singing of midnight strains, Under Bonnybell's window panes,-- Wait till you come to Forty Year.
Forty times over let Michaelmas pass, Grizzling hair the brain doth clear-- Then you know a boy is an ass, Then you know the worth of a lass, Once you have come to Forty Year.
Pledge me round, I bid ye declare, All good fellows whose beards are gray, Did not the fairest of the fair Common grow and wearisome ere Ever a month was passed away?
The reddest lips that ever have kissed, The brightest eyes that ever have shone, May pray and whisper, and we not list, Or look away, and never be missed, Ere yet ever a month is gone.
Gillian's dead, God rest her bier, How I loved her twenty years syne! Marian's married, but I sit here Alone and merry at Forty Year, Dipping my nose in the Gascon wine.
WERTHER had a love for Charlotte Such as words could never utter; Would you know how first he met her? She was cutting bread and butter.
Charlotte was a married lady, And a moral man was Werther, And, for all the wealth of Indies, Would do nothing for to hurt her.
So he sighed and pined and ogled, And his passion boiled and bubbled, Till he blew his silly brains out, And no more was by it troubled.
Charlotte, having seen his body Borne before her on a shutter, Like a well-conducted person, Went on cutting bread and butter.
Little KITTY LORIMER, Fair, and young, and witty, What has brought your ladyship Rambling to the City?
All the Stags in Capel Court Saw her lightly trip it; All the lads of Stock Exchange Twigg'd her muff and tippet.