University of Virginia Library

Rash, poor, and ever in a hurry,
Till he was far advanc'd in age,
A certain General like ******,
At last grew cautious, rich, and sage:
With all the subsidies of life,
All but an heir and a young lively wife;
Young she must be, for reasons good,
Not to excite passionate dealings,
To keep him warm with her warm blood,
And to indulge his sober feelings:
The wife he got, he left the care
To Providence and her, to make his heir.
At first a blaze, or two at most
Appear'd, just like a fire of stubble,
That cannot either bake or roast,
Or broil, or make the kettle bubble:
But seldom, after that auspicious day,
The noble General fired, except in play.
One night he gave a false alarm,
Which she most patiently endur'd;
“I thank my stars there is no harm!”
She whisper'd to herself, insur'd .
Howe'er, to cover his disgrace,
She let him keep manœuvring round the place.
His nightly fondling and stroking,
She bore with resignation meek;
When he became downright provoking,
She made him quiet for a week.
It was not oft, you understand,
That she was forc'd to take the task in hand.
Tir'd of his motions and parading,
To drop all metaphors of war,
She made him stick to serenading,
To twang and finger her guitar,
Like a child's fiddle, to divert young chicks,
From clamb'ring up and playing naughty tricks
By independence held out to his dear,
By a sincere emancipation,
He gain'd, like Fox, peace and good cheer,
Besides a helping hand upon occasion:
As to their love, content with these concessions
They left their jewels to their own discretions.
The General thus address'd the Fair,
Tossing and tumbling in her nest:
“Get me a Deputy—indeed a pair,
For fear of accidents, is best:
But first, consult your wise, experienc'd dam,
Trust her judicious eye, my tender lamb.”
He might have spar'd his curtain lecture,
His tender lamb, for all her youth,
Was never guided by conjecture,
Or mere appearances of truth:
Neither consenting nor denying,
She took no measures without trying.
So by repeated trials, in the end,
And wisely taking nought for granted,
She found the steady friend,
And Deputy, the General wanted.
In fine, without more fuss or teasing,
She made her choice, and chose discreetly:
The stream of time, flow'd smooth and pleasing,
Not only pleasingly, but sweetly;
So much, that the whole veteran corps
Envied the General more and more.
Replete with gratitude, the dame,
Yielded to all his weakest fancies;
And by a blush of simpering shame,
Vouch'd for his feats, and conjugal romances.
All which, as I before related,
Made the old General envied, if not hated.
Young folks are apt, in many a case,
Left to themselves, without a warden,
To disregard both time and place,
Like Eve and Adam in the garden.
They take a turn, they look about,
And, seeing nought to fear, conceive no doubt:
Taking their pastime in an arbour,
Our friends were by the Chaplain spied,
Like frigates riding in an arbour,
With their sails furled, in naked pride:
The Priest, like Satan, sigh'd, and saw with spite
Adam and Eve in primitive delight.
Before they reach'd the bower of bliss,
At the first glance, you may suppose,
Down dropt the Priest, squat like a Miss,
Stepping aside to pluck a rose.
Cowering he watch'd, amidst the shrubs hard by
An envious toad, like Milton's wicked spy.
When the scene clos'd the spy withdrew,
With marks of grief and indignation,
Revealing every thing he knew,
Relating to the incarnation.
“Lock'd in each other's arms they play'd,
Fasten'd and glew'd from head to foot,
The pair conjoined, you would have said,
Were grown together like a double nut.
Their springs and movements equal and exact,
As if they were but one in fact.”
The General smil'd, and heard the Doctor's tattle,
Calm and serene, as in a field of battle.
“'Twas a fine sight, I envy you the pleasure;
I know, said he, your hate to blabs and praters,
And am rejoic'd and happy beyond measure,
That none but God and you were the spectators.
Depend upon't, she shall be told,
When she's disposed to go so light and thin;
To run no more such risks of catching cold,
But take her exercise within.
I love my wife, I feel her merits,
I am her doctor, and advise,
For her hystericks, and low spirits,
This brisk de-obstruent exercise.
A hundred pounds a year I pay her squire,
I feed him sumptuously, and therewithal
The labourer is worthy of his hire,
And always ready at a call.
Know you, the General said to the Divine,
A General's lady better off than mine?”
The priest replied, and answer'd well,
“Sir, if I knew, I would not tell.
I could name one, one every way
As capable as brisk and stout,
A much more proper Cicesbi
Either within doors, or without;
And one he said, cocking his thumb,
That would have done the job for half the sum.”

THE MORAL.

All tales and fables, long or short,
Æsop's or Homer's, feign'd or true,
Must have a Moral of some sort,
For our instruction, says Bossu.
We learn this truth from Homer's songs,
When youth and insolence conspire,
Grievous dissensions and great wrongs
Arise from passion, set on fire.
His tale is founded upon anger,
With anger's terrible effects;
This upon impotence and langour,
With age's visible defects.
They both agree in one conclusion,
Where there's no harmony all is confusion;
In states, in senates, camps and fleets,
And now and then in wedding sheets.
If an old fellow goes to bed
With his young bride, and gets next morn,
Instead of his bride's maidenhead,
The maiden-bride's contempt and scorn;
The surest way to set things right,
And to do justice to the bride,
Is to get up and take his flight,
Or take her General for his guide:
Who sail'd through time with a fine breeze,
Through pleasant days and nights of ease:
For the connubial clog and yoke,
Heavy to me, not light to you,
To him was a mere joke,
Easy it sat like an old shoe.