| I IN wedlock once (’twas years agone) Were join’d a simple pair; The man in sooth was wondrous poor, The woman wondrous fair. |
| Love is not covetous, | What wonder then that they should love, As none e’er loved before; And tho’ few worldly goods they had, They coveted no more. |
| but, whether woman’s, or man’s, | For woman is a generous thing, And loves for love alone; And man he loves for beauty’s sake, And dotes on flesh and bone. |
| For woman is a generous thing, And loves for love alone; And man he loves for beauty’s sake, And dotes on flesh and bone. |
| consists not with starvation; | But flesh and bone they must be fed, As all the world doth know; Withouten food the loveliest flesh Most hideous soon doth grow. |
| Nor bone will thrive on love alone, If bread and meat it lacks; Withouten food, the stronger love, The weaker bone doth wax. |
| and is perill’d by idleness, | Now three weeks wedded had they been, And though he was so poor, The man, who had no goods within, Scarce passed without the door. |
| The woman loved him still so much, She wish’d for nought instead; Yet did she pine, each night to go All supperless to bed. |
| One night as o’er the hearth they sat, The embers glowing bright, My dear, quoth he, most fair by day Thou’rt fairer still by night! |
| which induces want, | I too, quoth she, do love thee now As ne’er I loved before; Yet, were I not so hungry, I Methinks should love thee more. |
| discontent, | Alas, said he, that poverty Should such fond hearts betide! I fain would work,—but love thee so, I cannot leave thy side: |
| and unavailing wishes: | I wish that we were very rich! She answer’d,—I am thine: And, though I never cared for wealth, Thy wishes shall be mine. |
| Scarce had they spoke when on the hearth Appear’d a little fay: So beautiful she was, the room It shone as bright as day. |
| of which even the full indulgence | Then waving thrice her lily hand, In silver tones she spake;— Thrice may ye wish what wish ye please, And thrice your wish shall take. |
| I am your guardian fay, she said, And joy to see your love: What would ye more to make you blest As spirits are above? |
| The beauteous fay then vanishing, The man he kiss’d his wife; And swore he never was before So happy in his life. |
| Now shall I be a lord, said he, A bishop, or a king? We’ll think it o’er to night, nor wish In haste for any thing. |
| would end in folly. | Be it, said she; to-morrow then We’ll wish one wish, my dear: In the meantime, I only wish We had some pudding here. |
| Ah! luckless wish! upon the word, A pudding straightway came: At which the man wax’d high with rage, The woman low with shame. |
| Then folly begets anger; | And as she hid her blushing eyes, And crouch’d upon a stool; The man he rose and stamp’d his foot, And cursed her for a fool. |
| He stamp’d his foot, and clench’d his fist, And scarce refrain’d from blows: A pudding! zounds, cried he, I wish You had it at your nose! |
| Up rose the pudding as he spake, And, like an air-balloon, Was borne aloft in empty space, But oh! it settled soon: |
| and anger strife, | Too soon it set
decoration A brief Account of the ?ad Accident
which befel
|
