Part IV

Showing how they rode together in her gilded coach to her noble seat, or castle, etc.

As the gilded coach stood ready,

The young lawyer and his lady

Rode together, till they came

To her house of state and fame;

Which appeared like a castle,

Where you might behold a parcel

Of young cedars, tall and straight,

Just before her palace gate.

Hand in hand they walked together,

To a hall, or parlour, rather,

Which was beautiful and fair, -

All alone she left him there.

Two long hours there he waited

Her return; - at length he fretted,

And began to grieve at last,

For he had not broke his fast.

Still he sat like one amazed,

Round a spacious room he gazed,

Which was richly beautified;

But, alas! he lost his bride.

There was peeping, laughing, sneering,

All within the lawyer's hearing;

But his bride he could not see;

'Would I were at home!' thought he.

While his heart was melancholy,

Said the steward, brisk and jolly,

'Tell me, friend, how came you here?

You've some bad design, I fear.'

He replied, 'Dear loving master,

You shall meet with no disaster

Through my means, in any case, -

Madam brought me to this place.'

Then the steward did retire,

Saying, that he would enquire

Whether it was true or no:

Ne'er was lover hampered so.

Now the lady who had filled him

With those fears, full well beheld him

From a window, as she dressed,

Pleased at the merry jest.

When she had herself attired

In rich robes, to be admired,

She appeared in his sight,

Like a moving angel bright.

'Sir! my servants have related,

How some hours you have waited

In my parlour, - tell me who

In my house you ever knew?'

'Madam! if I have offended,

It is more than I intended;

A young lady brought me here:' -

'That is true,' said she, 'my dear.

'I can be no longer cruel

To my joy, and only jewel;

Thou art mine, and I am thine,

Hand and heart I do resign!

'Once I was a wounded lover,

Now these fears are fairly over;

By receiving what I gave,

Thou art lord of what I have.'

Beauty, honour, love, and treasure,

A rich golden stream of pleasure,

With his lady he enjoys;

Thanks to Cupid's kind decoys.

Now he's clothed in rich attire,

Not inferior to a squire;

Beauty, honour, riches' store,

What can man desire more?

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