I looked, as away she was sweeping, As close as he dared to the doorway. No doubt that a noble should more weigh And yet, had our brute been Nemean 8 (I judge by a certain calm fervor The youth stepped with, forward to serve her) -He'd have scarce thought you did him the worst turn If you whispered, "Friend, what you'd get, first earn!" And when, shortly after, she carried Her shame from the Court, and they married, To that marriage some happiness, mauger The voice of the Court, I dared augur. For De Lorge, he made women with men vie, And in short stood so plain a head taller That he wooed and won . . . how do you call her? To the King's love, who loved her a week well. How bringing a glove brought such glory, But the wife smiled-"His nerves are grown firmer: 8. Nemean. The Nemean lion was slain by Hercules. Venienti occurrite morbo ! 9 With which moral I drop my theorbo.10 35 THE COURTIN' JAMES RUSSELL Lowell God makes sech nights, all white an' still Zekle crep' up quite unbeknown An' peeked in thru the winder, An' there sot Huldy all alone, A fireplace filled the room's one side The wa'nut logs shot sparkles out Agin the chimbley crook-necks1 hung, The ole queen's-arm thet gran'ther Young 9. Venienti occurrite morbo. Meet the coming disease. 10. Theorbo. A musical instrument like a large lute. The very room, coz she was in, Seemed warm f'om floor to ceilin', 'Twas kin' o' kingdom-come to look A dogrose blushin' to a brook He was six foot o' man, A 1, He'd sparked it with full twenty gals, But long o' her his veins 'ould run She thought no v'ice hed sech a swing My! when he made Ole Hunderd ring An' she'd blush scarlit, right in prayer, Thet night, I tell ye, she looked some! She seemed to 've gut a new soul, For she felt sartin-sure he'd come, Down to her very shoe-sole. She heered a foot, an' knowed it tu, All ways to once her feelin's flew He kin' o' l'itered on the mat, An' yit she gin her cheer a jerk "You want to see my Pa, I s'pose?" "Wal . . . no I come dasignin' ' "To see my Ma? She's sprinklin' clo'es Agin tomorrer's i'nin'." To say why gals act so or so, He stood a spell on one foot fust, An' on which one he felt the wust He couldn't ha' told ye nuther. Says he, "I'd better call agin"; Says she, "Think likely, Mister”; When Ma bimeby upon 'em slips, For she was jes' the quiet kind Like streams that keep a summer mind The blood clost roun' her heart felt glued Tell mother see how metters stood, Then her red come back like the tide In meetin' come nex' Sunday. They was cried. The engagement was announced in accordance with the custom generally referred to as "the crying of the bans." |