University of Virginia Library

Descend, O Muse! I humbly pray,
And guide me through an unknown way.
Thy aid I crave, inspire my song,
In soft accords, the notes prolong.

'Twas Sabbath morn. Young Betty rose,
Put on her go-to-meeting clothes,
Brushed carefully her silvered hair,
And on her neck, so white and fair,
She clasped a brilliant yellow string
Of golden beads, a silver ring,
A green, square breast-pin, made of glass
And purest kind of shining brass;
And pink chintz dress, with plaits and bows,
She wore, and well-matched pink silk hose.
Spotless and bright, her pink lawn bonnet,
'Twould blind your eyes to look upon it.
With tasteful hand, she spread o'er all,
A white lace veil, and pink crepe shawl.
Then, thus arrayed, with glowing face,
And swelling heart, and stately pace,
She walked to church. She reached the door,
A quarter of an hour or more
Before the deep-toned village bell
Its solemn notes began to swell.
She entered in. No one was there.
Silent and still that house of prayer.
Pausing, she stood and mused awhile,
And then proceeded up the aisle.
She scarce was seated, when there came
Another, early as the dame.
She turned her head in pleasant mood,
Young Aaron Clark before her stood.
She blushed and smiled her sweetest smile,
Poor Aaron stood entranced the while.
Thrice he, in vain, essayed to speak,
Quick, burning blood flushed brow and cheek.
Reluctantly he turned away—
In sorrow spent the livelong day.
Cupid had pierced his ill-clad heart;
He writhed beneath the clinging dart.

A week that day, they met again,
But she with gladness, he with pain.
At afternoon, when church was over,
The sad, unhappy, mournful lover,
In gloomy mood, walked silent on,
While his dark fate he mused upon,
When, suddenly, he saw before him
A sight that sent a quick thrill o'er him,
His Betty—blithesome, “sonsie,” gay,
In all her jewelled pink array.
“Now is the time,” thought he, “now I
Will speak to her, I can but try.”
He hastened on with rapid stride,
And soon was walking by her side.
But ah! to speak he vainly tried.
On—on—they walked, no word was spoken,
The solemn stillness all unbroken.
His mouth was dry and parched and now
Stood drops of anguish on his brow.
His trembling limbs began to fail—
He gasped for breath—'twas no avail.
“There's no alternative,” thought he,
“One of two things must surely be.
Only two paths before me lie,
For I must either speak, or—die!”
Just as he closed this rev'rie brief,
Fair Betty came to his relief.
With woman's tact she had divined
The thoughts then passing through his mind.
No foolish pride she weakly heeded,
Directly to the case proceeded,
In dulcet tones to him more sweet
Than cooling showers 'mid summer's heat,
Bliss,—rapture to his heart they carried.
“Pray, Mr. Clark, why ar'n't you married?”
He gasped out, though he scarce knew how,
“Why, none will take me, dear Miss Dow.”
Again that voice, “so softly clear,
Fell gently on his ravished ear,”
“There's never a Jack without a Gill,
If one won't, another will.”
His heart now felt a glimmering ray
Of hope; he knew not what to say.
A pause ensued,—an awkward pause,—
She added then another clause:
“Did'st ever try it, Aaron dear?”
“Alas, sweet Betty, for the fear
Of not succeeding,—no, ah! no.”
Again he heard those accents low:
“There's no denial,
Without a trial.”
Ah! Aaron's heart now leaped for joy,
Homefelt and deep, without alloy.
He grasped her hand, the die was cast,
The Rubicon was over-past.
He saw those deep-set, green-gray eyes
Upturned to his in sweet surprise
No more. Should I expose to sight
Young hearts, that hail Love's dawning light?
Should I intrude my stranger ear,
Love's mystic cadences to hear?