'Twas in a little western town An ancient Maiden dwelt:
Her name was
SS, or
SS,
Brown, Or
AH, or
BY: She Was doom'd a Spinster pure to be,
For soft delights her breast ne'er felt:
Yet, she had watchful Ears and Eyes For ev'ry youthful neighbour,
And never did she cease to labourA tripping female to surprize.
And why was she so wond'rous pure,
So stiff, so solemn—so demure?
Why did she watch with so much
The roving youth, the wand'ring fair?
The tattler,
Fame, has said that sheA Spinster's life had long detested,
But 'twas her quiet destiny, Never to be molested !—And had Miss
BY'S form been grac'd,
Fame adds,—She had not been so chaste;—But since for frailty she would roam,
She ne'er was taught—to look at home .
Miss
BY was of mien demure And blush'd, like any maid !
She could not saucy man endure Lest she should be betray'd!
She never fail'd at dance or
To watch the wily lurcher's snare;
At Church, she was a model Godly!
Though sometimes she had other
Than those, uplifted to the skies, Leering most oddly!
And Scandal, ever busy,
She rarely practic'd—what she taught.
Her dress was always stiff brocade, With laces broad and dear;
Fine Cobwebs ! that would thinly shade Her shrivell'd cheek of sallow hue,
While, like a Spider, her keen eye, Which never shed soft pity's tear,
Small holes in others geer could spy,
And microscopic follies, prying view.
And sorely vex'd was ev'ry simple
That wander'd near her never-tiring sting!
Miss
BY had a
OT, who, If Fame speaks true,
Could prate, and tell what neighbours did,
And yet the saucy rogue was never chid!
Sometimes, he talk'd of roving
Who wander'd from their quiet houses:
Sometimes, he call'd a Spinster
By names, that Virtue can't indure!
And sometimes told an ancient
Such tales as made her blush with shame!
Then gabbled how a giddy
Would give the boist'rous Squire a kiss!
But chiefly he was taught to cry,
Who with the Parson toy'd?
O fie! "This little joke,
Miss
BY taught him,
To vex a young and pretty neighbour;
But by her scandal-zealous labour To shame she brought him!
For, the Old
OT, like his
Was but a false and canting preacher,
And many a gamesome pair had
Such lessons were not to be borne.
At last,
Miss
BY sore was
And by her angry neighbours scouted;
She never knew one hour of rest,
Of ev'ry Saucy Boor, the jest:
The young despis'd her, and the
Look'd back on Time's impartial page;
They knew that youth was giv'n to prove The season of extatic joy,
That none but Cynics would destroy, The early buds of Love.
They also knew that
BY
For charms that envious Time deny'd;
That she was vex'd with jealous
That Hymen pass'd her by, unseen.
For though the Spinster's wealth was known,
Gold will not purchase Love—alone .
She, and her
OT, now were
The torments of their little Sphere;
He, because mischievously taught,
And She, because a maid austere !—In short, she deem'd it wise to leaveA Place, where none remain'd, to grieve.
Soon, to a distant town remov'd, Miss
BY'S gold an husband bought;
And all she had her
OT taught,(Her
OT now no more belov'd,)Was quite forgotten.
But, alas!
As Fate would have it come to pass,
Her Spouse was giv'n to jealous rage,
For, both in Person and in Age ,
He was the partner of his love,
Ordain'd her second Self to prove!
One day,
Old
NS had been out With merry friends to dine,
And, freely talking, had, no doubt Been also free with wine.
One said, of all the wanton
In the whole parish search it round,
None like the
ON could be found, Where a frail Maid was in the way.
Another thought the Parson
To win the heart of maid or wife;
And would have freely pledg'd his
That young, or old, or rich or poor None could
The magic of his roving eye!
NS went home, but all the night He dream'd of this strange tale!
Yet, bless'd his stars ! with proud delight, His partner was not young, nor frail.
Next morning, at the breakfast table.
The
OT, loud as he was able,
Was heard repeatedly to cry,
Who with the Parson toy'd?
O fie!"Old
NS listen'd, and grew pale, The
OT then, more loudly scream'd,
And
SS
NS heard the tale And much alarm'd she seem'd!
Trembling she tried to stop his breath,
Her lips and cheek as pale as death!
The more she trembled, still the
Old
NS view'd her o'er and o'er;
And now her yellow cheek was
With blushes of the deepest red.
And now again the
OT'S
Made his old Tutoress doubly pale;
For cowardice and guilt, they say Are the twin brothers of the soul;
So
SS
NS, her dismay Could not controul!
While the accuser, now grown bold,
Thrice o'er, the tale of mischief told.
Now
NS from the table rose,"Who with the Parson toy'd? " he cried."So
SS
TY, you must play,"And sport, your wanton hours away."And with your gold, a pretty joke,"You thought to buy a pleasant cloak;"A screen to hide your shame—but know"I will not blind to ruin go.—"I am no modern Spouse , dy'e see,"Gold will not gild disgrace, with me!"Some say he seiz'd his fearful bride, And came to blows!
Day after day, the contest
Augmented, with resistless ire!
And many a drubbing
BY
For mischief, she her
OT taught!
Thus,
ER turns against its maker; And if this little Story reaches A
ER, who her
OT teaches,
Let her a better task pursue,
And here, the certain
CE view Which surely will, in
ME,
KE
ER.
