The Feast of the Virgins and Other Poems Part 43

Dear Ladies, beware; Dear Ladies, take care-- How you play with a lion asleep in his lair: "Mere trifling flirtations"--these arts you employ?

Flirtations once led to the siege of old Troy; And a woman was in For the sorrow and sin And slaughter that fell when the Greeks tumbled in; Nor is there a doubt, my dears, under the sun, But they've led to the sack of more cities than one.

I would we were all As pure as Saint Paul That we touched not the goblet whose lees are but gall; But if so we must know where a flirtation leads; Beware of the fair and look out for our heads.

Remember the odious, Frail woman, Herodias Sent old Baptist John to a place incommodious, And prevailed on her husband to cut off his head For an indiscreet thing the old Nazarite said.

Day in and day out The blue coat was about; And the dear little lady was glad when he came And began to be talkative, tender and tame.

Then he gave her a ring, begged a curl of her hair, And smilingly whispered her--"don't tell McNair."

She dropped her dark eyes And with two little sighs Sent the bold Captain's heart fluttering up to the skies.

Then alas-- What a pa.s.s!

He fell at the feet of the lady so sweet, And swore that he loved her beyond his control-- With all his humanity--body and soul!

The lady so frail Turned suddenly pale, Then--sighed that his love was of little avail; For alas, the dear Captain--he must have forgot-- She was tied to McNair with a conjugal knot.

But indeed She agreed-- Were she only a maid he alone could succeed; But she prayed him by all that is sacred and fair, Not to rouse the suspicion of Mr. McNair.

'Twas really too bad, For the lady was sad: And a terrible night o't the poor lady had, While Mr. McNair wondered what was the matter, And endeavored to coax, to console and to flatter.

Many tears she shed That night while in bed For she had such a terrible pain in her head!

"My dear little pet, where's the camphor?" he said; "I'll go for the doctor--you'll have to be bled; I declare, my dear wife, you are just about dead."

"O no, my dear; I pray you don't fear, Though the pain, I'll admit, is exceeding severe.

I know what it is--I have had it before-- It's only neuralgia: please go to the store And bring me a bottle of 'Davis's Pain- Killer,' and I shall be better again."

He sprang out of bed And away he sped In his gown for the cordial to cure her head, Not dreaming that Cupid had played her a trick-- The blind little rogue with a sharpened stick.

I confess on my knees I have had the disease; It is worse than the bites of a thousand fleas; And the only cure I have found for these ills Is a double dose of "Purgative Pills."

He rubbed her head-- And eased it, she said; And he shrugged and s.h.i.+vered and got into bed.

He slept and he snored, but the poor lady's pain, When her lord slept soundly, came on again.

It wore away However by day And when Brown called again she was smiling and gay; But alas, he must say--to the lady's dismay-- In the town of his heart he had staid out his stay, And must leave for his regiment with little delay.

Now Mrs. McNair Was tall and fair, Mrs. McNair was slim, But the like of Brown was so wonderful rare That she could not part with him.

Indeed you can see it was truly a pity, For her husband was just going down to the city, And Captain Brown-- The man of renown-- Could console her indeed were he only in town.

So McNair to the city the next Monday hied, And left bold Captain Brown with his modest young bride.

As the serpent did Eve Most sorely deceive-- Causing old father Adam to sorrow and grieve, And us, his frail children, tho' punished and chidden, To hanker for things that are sweet but forbidden-- The Captain so fair, With his genius so rare, Wound the web of enchantment round Mrs. McNair; And alas, fickle Helen, ere three days were over, She had sworn to elope with her bra.s.s-b.u.t.toned lover.

Like Helen, the Greek, She was modest and meek, And as fair as a rose, but a trifle too weak.

When a maid she had suitors as proud as Ulysses, But she ne'er bent her neck to their arms or their kisses, Till McNair he came in With a brush on his chin-- It was love at first sight--but a trifle too thin; For, married, the dreams of her girlhood fell short all, And she found that her husband was only a mortal.

Dear ladies, betray us-- Fast and loose play us-- We'll follow you still like bereaved Menelaus, Till the little blind G.o.d with his cruel shafts slay us.

Cold-blooded as I am, If a son of old Priam Should break the Mosaic commands and defy 'em, And elope with my "pet," and moreover my riches, I would follow the rogue if I went upon crutches To the plains of old Troy without jacket or breeches.

But then I'm so funny If he'd give up the money, He might go to the dogs with himself and his "Honey."

The lovers agreed That the hazardous deed Should be done in the dark and with very great speed, For Mr. McNair--when the fellow came back-- Might go crazy and foolishly follow their track.

So at midnight should wait At her garden-gate A carriage to carry the dear, precious freight Of Mrs. McNair who should meet Captain Brown At the Globe Hotel in a neighboring town.

A man should be hired To convey the admired.

And keep mum as a mouse, and do what was desired.

Wearily, wearily half the night The lady watched away; At times in a spirit of sadness quite, But fully resolved on her amorous flight, She longed to be under way; Yet with sad heaving heart and a tear, I declare, As she sorrowfully thought of poor Mr. McNair.

"Poor fellow," she sighed, "I wish he had died Last spring when he had his complaint in the side For I know--I am sure--it will terribly grieve him To have me elope with the Captain and leave him.

But the Captain--dear me!

I hardly can see Why I love the brave Captain to such a degree: But see--there's the carriage, I vow, at the gate!

I must go--'tis the law of inveterate fate."

So a parting look At her home she took, While a terrible conflict her timid soul shook; Then turned to the carriage heart-stricken and sore, Stepped hastily in and closed up the door.

"Crack!" went the whip; She bit her white lip, And away she flew on her desperate trip.

She thought of dear Brown; and poor Mr. McNair-- She knew he would hang himself straight in despair.

She sighed And she cried All during the ride, And endeavored--alas, but she could not decide.

Three times she prayed; Three times she essayed To call to the driver for pity and aid-- To drive her straight To her garden-gate, And break the spell of her terrible fate.

But her tongue was tied-- She couldn't decide, And she only moaned at a wonderful rate.

No mortal can tell "What might have befell,"

Had it been a mile more to the Globe Hotel; But as they approached it she broke from her spell.

A single hair For Mr. McNair She vowed to herself that she did not care; But the Captain so true In his coat of blue-- To his loving arms in her fancy she flew.

In a moment or more They drove up to the door, And she felt that her trials and troubles were o'er.

The landlord came hastily out in his slippers, For late he had sat with some smokers and sippers.

As the lady stepped down With a fret and a frown, She sighed half aloud, "Where is dear Captain Brown?"

"This way, my dear madam," politely he said, And straightway to the parlor the lady he led.

Now the light was dim Where she followed him, And the dingy old parlor looked gloomy and grim.

As she entered, behold, in contemplative mood, In the farther corner the bold Captain stood In his coat of blue: To his arms she flew; She buried her face in his bosom so true: "Dear Captain!--my Darling!" sighed Mrs. McNair; Then she raised her dark eyes and--Good Heavens'

I declare!--- Instead of the Captain 'twas--_Mr. McNair!_ She threw up her arms--she screamed--and she fainted; Such a scene!--Ah the like of it never was painted.

Of repentance and pardon I need not tell; Her vows I will not relate, For every man must guess them well Who knows much of the "married state."

Of the sad mischance suffice it to say That McNair had suspected the Captain's "foul play;"

So he laid a snare For the bold and the fair, But he captured, alas, only Mrs. McNair; And the bra.s.s-b.u.t.toned lover--bold Captain Brown-- Was nevermore seen in that rural town.

Mrs. McNair Is tall and fair; Mrs. McNair is slim; And her husband again is her only care-- She is wonderfully fond of him; For now he is all the dear lady can wish--he Is a captain himself--in the State militia.

1859.

THE DRAFT

[January, 1865.]

Old Father Abe has issued his "Call"

For Three Hundred Thousand more!

By Jupiter, boys, he is after you all-- Lamed and maimed--tall and small-- With his drag-net spread for a general haul Of the "suckers" uncaught before.

I am sorry to see such a woeful change In the health of the hardiest; It is wonderful odd--it is "pa.s.sing strange"-- As over the country you travel and range, To behold such a sudden, lamentable change All over the East and the West.

"Blades" tough and hearty a week ago, Who tippled and danced and laughed, Are "suddenly taken," and some quite low With an epidemical illness, you know: "What!--Zounds!--the cholera?" you quiz;--no--no-- The doctors call it the "Draft."

What a blessed thing it were to be old-- A little past "forty-five;"

'Twere better indeed than a purse of gold At a premium yet unwritten, untold, For what poor devil that's now "enrolled"

Expects to get off alive?

There's a miracle wrought in the Democrats; They swore it was murder and sin To put in the "n.i.g.g.e.rs," like Kilkenny cats, To clear the s.h.i.+p of the rebel rats, But now I notice they swing their hats And shout to the "n.i.g.g.e.rs"--"_Go in!_"