no wonder that thus drench’d, and wrench’d, and gall’d,

as soon as possible from syncope’s fetter

her senses had the sense to be recall’d,

“i’m better—that will do—indeed i’m better,”

she cried to each importunate besetter;

meanwhile, escaping from the stir and smother,

the prudent parent seized the lover’s letter,

(daughters should have no secrets with a mother)

and read it thro’ from one end to the other.

from first to last she never skipp’d a word—

for young lorenzo of all youths was one

[pg 314]

so wise, so good, so moral she averr’d,

so clever, quite above the common run—

she made him sit by her, and call’d him son,

no matrimonial suit, e’en duke’s or earl’s,

so flatter’d her maternal feelings—none!

for mothers always think young men are pearls

who come and throw themselves before their girls.