Some creature there is who roams the world through Working mischief to many and joy to a few, But conquering all, whether hell or above Be his home, I am not certain; his name though is love.
The young he most frequently marks as his game, Strikes them straight through the heart with an unerring aim; Though the middle age, too, if he gets in his way, With his bow he will cover and bend to his sway.
And sometimes the rogue with an aim somewhat absurd, Makes fools of old people. Indeed, I have heard Of one hapless wight, who, though over four score, He hit in the head, making one victim more.
And this is the creature, who, when on his way Through the world, struck the couple in whose cause to-day, I ask for your help and your patronage, too; And they'll give you back when he comes to bite you.
And now let each one of us struggle to keep The old custom up, so time-honoured and cheap; Of jointly, or singly, some small trifle giving, To start the young pair on their way to a living.
They'll buy a few things, with a confidence clear, Of living in peace as their children they rear; Stealing and content, out of Mother Earth's hand, Blest as Cæsar of old, or the King of our land.
I do not consider that riches or gold Ensure contentment; a wise man of old Tells us men in soft raiment of grief have their share, And a life without wants is the lightest to bear.
Once a great English King [1] and his talented wife, Though they had meat in their pan, led a bickering life; Were the dullards compelled to work, him and her, With a hoe in their hands it would lessen their stir.
The quarrel arose from some fight for the Crown And at it they went like some cats of renown; And although we are poor, I am ready to swear That Stephen and Madlen are freer from care.
Now let me impress on this whole family, To think on the message delivered by me; Lest the youth and his wife, through not getting enough, Should say that my idleness caused lack of stuff.
A welcome you'll get there I guarantee you, With bread and cheese plenty, and prime beer, too; I know, for I have tried it, and everybody there Can have 'bacco and pipes enough and to spare.
It delights me a jovial assembly to see, For it is wiser sometimes to forget misery; There are times for complaining and song, too we're told, In the proverb of old, which is true as it's old.