Marion, a Poem (Paperback)

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1847 edition. Excerpt: ...him who had so strangely grown, Even like her jessamine, around a heart Too simply fond to think they e'er should part; Needs not be told, because their conversation Was just the same as lovers always hold, Which, though delightful, does not bear narration, Especially to people getting old. In fact, to throw aside all affectation, I've frequently, in confidence, been told, (Spite of what every unfledged poet sings) That folks, in love, are very silly things. Love is a game which heaven designed for two, At which, however, more will often play; But Nature tells them it will never do, And orders all the bystanders away. Oft, stubborn hearts will still remain to sue, And sigh, and swear, and versify, and pray, Till told they either must resign the fair, Or for a hostile interview prepare. The vulgar days of love are nearly over, And courtships, now, are managed by mamma. "What can you give your girl, sir?" asks the lover: "What can you settle?" answers the papa. The service done, the pair set out for Dover, Thence travel on to Paris or to Spa, --She, on the journey, voting all things bores, Whilst the fond husband calmly sits--and snores. Spent is the honeymoon, and back, once more, To Town--dear, old, delightful Town--they come. Punctual at club, Sir Joseph learns to pore O'er sage debates on sugar, slaves, and rum, And deems his cup of private bliss runs o'er--Blest with so chaste a wife, so kind a home; Though scandal whispers that Sir Joseph's heir Is strangely like the Count who visits there. But husbands, when they marry, take their wives For oetter (so the service runs) or worse, And therefore should endeavour, all their lives, To make their bonds a blessing, not a curse; Keep early hours; drink tea; take Sunday drives; Run...