Anon came Lady K., with her face Quite made up to act with grace, But she cut the performance shorter; For instead of pacing stately and stiff, At the stare of the vulgar she took a miff, And ran, full speed, into Church, as if To get married before her daughter. CCXXXIII. But Sir Jacob walk'd more slowly, and bow'd Eight and left to the gaping crowd, Wherever a glance was seizable; For Sir Jacob thought he bow'd like a Guelph, And therefore bow'd to imp and elf, And would gladly have made a bow to himself, Had such a bow been feasible. CCXXXIV. And last--and not the least of the sight, Six "Handsome Fortunes," all in white, Came to help in the marriage rite,-- And rehearse their own hymeneals; And then the bright procession to close, They were followed by just as many Beaux Quite fine enough for Ideals. CCXXXV. Glittering men, and splendid dames, Thus they enter'd the porch of Saint James', Pursued by a thunder of laughter; For the Beadle was forced to intervene, For Jim the Crow, and his Mayday Queen, With her gilded ladle, and Jack i' the Green, Would fain have follow'd after! CCXXXVI. Beadle-like he hush'd the shouts; But the temple was full "inside and out," And a buzz kept buzzing all round about Like bees when the day is sunny-- A buzz universal that interfered With the right that ought to have been revered, As if the couple already were smear'd With Wedlock's treacle and honey! CCXXXVII. Yet Wedlock's a very awful thing! 'Tis something like that feat in the ring, Which requires good nerve to do it-- When one of a "Grand Equestrian Troop" Makes a jump at a gilded hoop, Not certain at all Of what may befall After his getting through it! CCCXXXVIII. But the Count he felt the nervous work No more than any polygamous Turk, Or bold piratical skipper, Who, during his buccaneering search, Would as soon engage a hand in church As a hand on board his clipper! CCXXXIX. And how did the Bride perform her part? Like any bride who is cold at heart. Mere snow with the ice's glitter; What but a life of winter for her! Bright but chilly, alive without stir, So splendidly comfortless,--just like a Fir When the frost is severe and bitter. CCXL. Such were the future man and wife! Whose bale or bliss to the end of life A few short words were to settle-- "Wilt thou have this woman?" "I will"--and then, "Wilt thou have this man?" "I will," and "Amen"-- And those Two were one Flesh, in the Angels' ken, Except one Leg--that was metal. CCXLI. Then the names were sign'd--and kiss'd the kiss: And the Bride, who came from her coach a Miss, As a Countess walk'd to her carriage-- Whilst Hymen preen'd his plumes like a dove, And Cupid flutter'd his wings above, In the shape of a fly--as little a Love As ever look'd in at a marriage! CCXLII.