The Humourous Poetry of the English Language

419
Into the eye-and then-the FIGHT!
FRAGMENTS.
[BY A FREE-LOVER.]
BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE, 1823
They were not married by a muttering priest,
With superstitious rites, and senseless words,
Out-snuffled from an old worm-eaten book,
In a dark corner (railed off like a sheep-pen)
Of an old house, that fools do call a CHURCH!
THEIR altar was the flowery lap of earth--
The starry empyrean their vast temple--
Their book each other's eyes--and Love himself
Parson, and Clerk, and Father to the bride!--
Holy espousals! whereat wept with joy
The spirit of the universe.--In sooth
There was a sort of drizzling rain that day,
For I remember (having left at home
My parapluie, a name than UMBRELLA,
Far more expressive) that I stood for shelter
Under an entry not twelve paces off
(It might be ten) from Sheriff Waithman's shop
For half an hour or more, and there I mused
(Mine eyes upon the running kennel fixed,
That hurried as a het'rogenous mass
To the common sewer, it's dark reservoir),
I mused upon the running stream of LIFE!
But that's not much to the purpose--I was telling
Of these most pure espousals.--Innocent pair!
Ye were not shackled by the vulgar chains
About the yielding mind of credulous youth,
Wound by the nurse and priest--YOUR energies,
Your unsophisticated impulses,
Taught ye to soar above their "settled rules
Of Vice and Virtue." Fairest creature! He
Whom the world called thy husband, was in truth
Unworthy of thee.-A dull plodding wretch!