 | City Festivals |  |
The Club absorbed this fragment of narration,
With mild and rather frosty approbation;
Though now and then an old balloonist listened
With ears that heard, and eager eyes that glistened;
For pure love, in its ever-blessèd mission,
Strikes some old sinners' hearts with strange precision.
But most of them, polite attention feigning,
Found this mild tale not over-entertaining;
They wanted things unsafer and more thrilling—
Some sudden death, or close escape from killing;
And a young man the story-fee then tendered,
And this sad tale of love and death was rendered:
With mild and rather frosty approbation;
Though now and then an old balloonist listened
With ears that heard, and eager eyes that glistened;
For pure love, in its ever-blessèd mission,
Strikes some old sinners' hearts with strange precision.
But most of them, polite attention feigning,
Found this mild tale not over-entertaining;
They wanted things unsafer and more thrilling—
Some sudden death, or close escape from killing;
And a young man the story-fee then tendered,
And this sad tale of love and death was rendered:
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