The Maid.

A certain maid, as proud as fair,      A husband thought to find      Exactly to her mind -      Well-form'd and young, genteel in air,      Not cold nor jealous; - mark this well.      Whoe'er would wed this dainty belle      Must have, besides rank, wealth, and wit,      And all good qualities to fit -      A man 'twere difficult to get.      Kind Fate, however, took great care      To grant, if possible, her prayer.      There came a-wooing men of note;      The maiden thought them all,      By half, too mean and small.      'They marry me! the creatures dote: -      Alas! poor souls! their case I pity.'      (Here mark the bearing of the beauty.)      Some were less delicate than witty;      Some had the nose too short or long;      In others something else was wrong;      Which made each in the maiden's eyes      An altogether worthless prize.      Profound contempt is aye the vice      Which springs from being over-nice,      Thus were the great dismiss'd; and then      Came offers from inferior men.      The maid, more scornful than before,      Took credit to her tender heart      For giving then an open door.      'They think me much in haste to part      With independence! God be thank'd      My lonely nights bring no regret;      Nor shall I pine, or greatly fret,      Should I with ancient maids be rank'd.'      Such were the thoughts that pleased the fair:      Age made them only thoughts that were.      Adieu to lovers: - passing years      Awaken doubts and chilling fears.      Regret, at last, brings up the train.      Day after day she sees, with pain,      Some smile or charm take final flight,      And leave the features of a 'fright.'      Then came a hundred sorts of paint:      But still no trick, nor ruse, nor feint,      Avail'd to hide the cause of grief,      Or bar out Time, that graceless thief.      A house, when gone to wreck and ruin,      May be repair'd and made a new one.      Alas! for ruins of the face      No such rebuilding e'er takes place.      Her daintiness now changed its tune;      Her mirror told her, 'Marry soon!'      So did a certain wish within,      With more of secrecy than sin, -      A wish that dwells with even prudes,      Annihilating solitudes.      This maiden's choice was past belief,      She soothing down her restless grief,      And smoothing it of every ripple,      By marrying a cripple.