THE LADY JANE.

THE LADY JANE;

OR AN OLD MAID'S LOVE.

I.

THERE was a lady-fair, and forty too.

There was a youth of scarcely two and twenty. The story of this love is strange, yet true.

I'll tell it you! Romances are so plenty

In prose, that you'll be glad of something new.
And so I'll versify what did and meant he.
You think he was too young!-but tell me whether
The moth and humming-bird grow old together!

"

II.

Nature, that made the ivy-leaf and lily,

Not of one warp and woof hath wove us all! Bent goes the careful, and erect the silly,

And wear and tear make difference-not small; And loveliness may drive through Piccadilly

Changeless till fifty, if no pangs befall.

A day's grief, out of some, a year's life washes;
Some shed it like ducks' backs and "Mackintoshes."

III.

The Lady Jane was daughter of an Earl

Shut from approach like sea-nymph in her shell. Never a rude breath stirr'd the floating curl

Upon her marble temple, and naught fell Upon the car of the patrician girl

But pride-check'd syllables, all measured well. Her suitors were her father's and not hersSo were her debts at "Storr-and-Mortimer's."

IV.

Her health was lady-like. No blood, in riot,
Tangled the tracery of her veined cheek,
Nor seem'd her exquisite repose the quiet

Of one by suffering made sweet and meek.
She ate and drank, and probably lived by it,

And liked her cup of tea by no means weak! Untroubled by debt, lovers, or affliction, Her pulse beat with extremely little friction.

V.

Yet was there fire within her soft gray eye,
And room for pressure on her lip of rose;
And few who saw her gracefully move by,
Imagined that her feelings slept, or froze.
You may have seen the cunning florist tie

A thread about a bud, which never blows,
But, with shut chalice from the sun and rain,
Hoards up the morn-and such the Lady Jane.

VI.

The old lord had had offers for her hand,
To which he answer'd--by his secretary.
And, doubtless, some were for the lady's land,
The men being old and valetudinary ;
But there were others who were all unmann'd,
And fell into a life of wild vagary,

In their despair. To tell his daughter of it,
The cold Earl thought would be but little profit.

VII.

And so she bloom'd-all fenced around with care; And none could find a way to win or woo her. When visible at home-the Earl was there!

Abroad-her chaperon stuck closely to her!
She was a sort of nun in open air,

Known to but few, and intimate with fewer:
And, always used to conversation guarded,
She thought all men talk'd just as her papa did.

VIII.

Pause while you read, oh, Broadway demoiselle! And bless your stars that long before you marry,

You are a judge of passion pleaded well!

For you have listen'd to Tom, Dick, and Harry, And, if kind Heaven endow'd you for a belle,

At least your destiny did not miscarry!

"You've had your fling"-and now, all wise and steady, For matrimony's cares you're cool and ready!