"Come, Sir, Mr. Bridegroom, or whatever 's your name, Let me hear some excuse which shall ward off the blame Which you richly deserve, if appearance tells true. But they say--and their saying shall benefit you-- That folks ought not to go by appearances ever, But should judge from plain facts, as more law-like and clever. So I'll hear all you have, sir, to say in defence Of what seems to these ladies a serious offence." Now, between you and I, the good Abbot enjoys This dispute quite as much as a child does his toys; And his eyes wander oft to the beautiful maid, To whose cause he inclines, I am sadly afraid. And so too you would feel if your heart be not stone, Though, like him, p'rhaps the feeling you'd not care to own. Still I'm sure your compassion would so far arise, That you'd lend her your kerchief to wipe up her eyes; And would feel much inclined, and with justice, I'm fearing, To condemn the poor culprit before his case hearing. But he speaks! and relates all he stated before, And declares he ne'er promised to marry her, nor Had said anything pointed, to give her to think That his fate unto hers he was wishing to link. "Stop--I did call her pretty, one time, by the bye, But she took not the trouble my words to deny; So 'tis plain she thought them not so out of the way, But a kind of a tribute that folks ought to pay. Then I lived in the house, and so might once have kissed her, For I treated her just as if she'd been my sister; Going out with her walks when she wanted fresh air, And by treating her always at every fair." Now I've heard a remark, which I know to be true, That a man is no judge of the kind of a view Which a sister presents to unprejudiced eyes. For I've seen brothers stare with a look of surprise When I talked of a sister, and thought I would flatter If I made a remark, or but cast a glance at her. I, by chance, once myself made this very mistake (Near as awkward a one as a man can well make), For I have a few sisters, but never once thought Them much out of the way, till more properly taught. They explained I was wrong, and I could not well doubt it, For they proved that I really knew nothing about it. Now in just this position was poor Murphy placed, He could scarcely perceive Joan was prettily faced; She was handy, he knew, in the kitchen and dairy, But for beauty--he thought that tastes widely must vary. It was living together so long, I suppose, Made him blind to the charms of this beautiful rose. For he's not what folks call a man really hard-hearted, And his conscience now pricked him, and terribly smarted, As he thought on the kindness she ever had shown him Since the days of his boyhood, when first she had known him.