Hung midway down his legs, and as before "Alas!" I cry'd, "can children take delight To see a brother's breeches at his heels? Perhaps, who knows? they slipp'd them down! O sight Deplorable, to one who truly feels The sin of his humanity!" And then, I would have cry'd unto those little men, In tones that must have mov'd them, were they stone, "Fy, naughty boys! do let the child alone. If you did catch him in that doubtful case, You did, say, children, did you never hear The Wicked One that tells them for to play Or, help him button up his trowsers, do!" Thus, or in some such tones, I would have cry'd, And no doubt should have sham'd them. But I spy'd A buxom girl of eighteen years or more, Who had a basket on her arm, and wore A frock with rosebuds stamp'd, and on her head With a new riband, which I think was red, But may have been peagreen. What else she had, Or if a silken shawl her shoulders clad, I now forget; or else I never knew ; Only, one toe was peeping from her shoe. The maid, for maid she surely seem'd to be, Was of the color of those naughty boys, Yet suddenly repress'd their clamorous glee. 'Why, Goodness' mercy! what means all this noise?" Quoth she. "O, I will tell your mothers! See ! See if I don't, that 's all! You little wretches! Then the good negress, as these words she said, Laid down her basket on a flight of steps, Whither the hunted sufferer had fled, And wip'd his eyes, and nose, and cheeks, and lips, up his band. When this I saw, delighted I exclaim'd, More dearly I thy memory will prize Than if thy checks were of the driven snow, For, setting virgin modesty aside, Thou didst not look if men were coming near, A like mishap to my maturer rear, As little of repugnance in my bride!" VI. A DONNA DONA. BEL discorso ed occhi bei, VII. PARAPHRASE. WORDS Soft-spoken, subtle glances, Who this holds, yet never chances VIII. SERENADE. OPE the window, ROSALINE; Hush the night, no dawn is breaking, Nothing but thy lover waking, Lift the window, ROSALINE; Lady cruel, still thou sleepest, Is it thou? Now Heaven bless thee! Sadness o'er his spirit flinging Who for thee thus waketh, singing: Lean, and listen, lady mine! Hist for other eyes than thine Ah, withdraw! while home I take me," IX. TABLE SONG. DRINK! drink! whilst we may. Lads and lasses, Crown your glasses: Soon must come the joyless day. Now her curtain Night hangs o'er us, Cup in hand, and lips in chorus, Fal la lah, and fal la lay; - And be gay. Drink! drink! whilst we may. Etc. |