I've a good mind to stop him, but don't like a row." "Then you really intend Both your fortunes to blend Into one; And promise you'll never From each other sever Till life 's done? When as, sir, from your youth you will most like survive, To provide for these babes will you promise to strive? For, deprived of their ma, if I right understand, Most young ladies are likely to stick long on hand. Unless (and I here must the failings unfold Of the world), all their pockets are stuffed full of gold; When all other attractions--O thought most distressing! Are considered no more than the regular blessing Which the milkman bestows after measuring out The pale chalk-coloured fluid he carries about. Yes! sweet temper and truth are of little avail When proud Wealth takes his seat in the opposite scale. As the proverb declares, which we all so well know, That 'tis money alone that the mare makes to go. But of course, sir, 'twas nothing at all of this kind Which has thus to stern fate made you meekly resigned! It was love--purely love, caused your heart to prefer, From all others to flee, and reside here with her. But what's this I hear? Who dares interfere, With such racket and unseemly noise? Mr. Bridegroom go, see, (We will tarry for thee), Please to flog 'em if 'tis your two boys." Then not one of them spoke, Though all thought 'twas some joke Of that monkey, young Patrick O'Neale, Till the urchin they saw Fast asleep on the floor, Where he fled in the hopes to conceal The disguise he still wore, For he felt more and more That the wrath of the Abbot he'd feel. "Let me go! let me go!" cried a voice from without; And up many arose from their seats to rush out, When a female dashed through, cast her eyes swift around, ntAnd exhausted fell down, overwhelmed, to the ground, At the feet of the dame, who was too much affected To afford the assistance the fair one expected. [Illustration: And exhausted fell down.] "It is Joan! it is Joan!" ran in whispers about, And in truth on that subject there seemed little doubt; For poor Murphy kept popping his head in and out, Till the Abbot requested he'd walk in instead, When he took to his heels and ran off with his head, And as fast out of sight as a pickpocket fled. "Fetch him back!" cried the Abbot, in thundering tone, And far swifter than light'ning the monks out have flown; Oh, such speed you'd have thought that they never could own! It is true that old Peter kept quite in the rear, Still he bustled along though without an idea Of beholding the sport till his friends brought it near. Yet 'tis true (though you choose to believe it or not), He was one of the first to return to the spot When the captors their pris'ner in safe keeping had got.