THE FAMILY OF o'fiORE. 156 



Wherein with shame, and wonder, and delight, 



She sees so lovely and withal so bare 

 A form, as to convince her that her own 

 Had, on a sudden, like an angel grown, 



Susannah looked delicious, I've no doubt, 

 When the two elders (shameless villains!) caught her; 



And so did Bathsheba when, peeping out, 

 Old David saw her naked in the water ; 



Venus, too, borne along the sea (without 

 A rag on her !) the ocean's lovely daughter 



Looked very tempting, yet they all, I say, 



Fell short of Kathleen's loveliness that day. 



See was not one of your mere dainty girls, 



Yet she was delicate her eyes were blue 

 Her long hair golden, and her teeth like pearls 



Her cheeks a very, very faint rose-hue, 

 Her body's mould the sort, you know, that whirls 



The brain to gaze at fine', yet rounded, too ! 

 In fact a girl to match a man of muscle, 

 Depend on't she did not require a bustle. 



And now another wonder meets her gaze, 



Her garments, which had erst been russet brown, 



For robes had been exchang'd by viewless fays ! 

 Oh ! had you seen the tissue of her gown ! 



'Tis said that hands unseen, too, laced her stays, 

 But I'm not certain of this last, I own; 



However when her toilette was complete, 



She look'd in fine, words cannot tell how sweet. 



Of course, ye guess the rest; Sir Carolan, 



Who dearly loved her at his heart before, 

 In a few days became a happy man ; 



Her elder sisters, though, felt rather sore, 

 And to the fairy well next morning ran, 



But came back with the faces of four- score ; 

 What gave to Kathleen's cheeks their rosy dimples, 

 Had cover'd theirs with wrinkles and red pimples, 



My tale is told ; and, simple though it be, 



It bears with it a moral, should it woo 

 Those who will smile at its veracity 



To recollect that this, at least, is true 

 Merit will win its way resistlessly , 



Where wealth, and power, and beauty will not do , 

 Then shall I say the travail of my brain, 

 Has not been wholly fruitless and in vain. 



And so 1 take my leave ! I've writ enough ; 



My paper is all spent, my ink is low, 

 Else I'd be tempted to inflict more stuff 



Upon the patient I am so loth to go 1 

 My candle, too, hath dwindled to a snuff, 



And faintly burns beneath its socket ! so, 

 1 Before its dim light wholly hath expired, 

 Reader, good night ! to bed ! for thou art tired I 



