See, the bridegrooms are kissing their beautiful brides, Who a kiss too receive from the Abbot besides. All but Dame Donoghue, who by chance seems forgot; Or, perhaps, he had thought he had much rather not. Then the Abbot and train prepare to go; They fall into ranks in a double row; While the chief, at their head, walks on before, Without ere a word or a syllable more. But old Peter just tarries behind to state Why the Abbot had come there, and why so late. He had noticed the monk who was rambling out, And, inquiring, had learnt all the facts about. When to Peter's surprise he declared his mind, That to marry the couple he felt inclined. "I was very much vexed that he tarried so late, As I feared that for me you might probably wait. For I know very well, without being told twice, That when victuals are tepid they're not very nice. But I now must be gone; he will miss me, I fear; Though 'twould pleasure me much to await awhile here." Then young Patrick O'Neal out of pity, or jest, Took the half of a duck, which with onions was drest, And to old Peter gave it, unseen by the rest; Who declared he of boys was undoubted the best. Then he passed through the door and was soon with the throng Who by torchlight were marching the forest along. And 'twas lucky he did; for the Abbot inquired After him, who to walk by his side he desired. When a lecture he gave which the folly proved quite Of rich dainties employing to cure appetite. "They're the seed," he remarked, "of nigh ev'ry disease Which frail mortals invent, them to rob of their ease. What is gout, may I ask, but these victuals condensed And forced into the blood to create pain intense? Then, just look at your teeth; when compared with a brute, They're surpassed quite as much as a flower does its root. One is even, as smooth, and as white as a nut; While the other is jagged, and blacker than soot. Slow decaying away, from the poisonous food, Which, to pleasure the palate, the victims have chewed. Still, in spite the result, as of sense quite bereft, They persist, like the lunatics lately I've left. I can't drive the _foul_ smell from my nose," he exclaimed; "The effluvia such hold on my sense has obtained."