Classic Poem

Fair cousin mine! the golden days
— Of old romance are over;
And minstrels now care naught for bays,
— Nor damsels for a lover;
And hearts are cold, and lips are mute
— That kindled once with passion,
And now we've neither lance nor lute,
— And tilting's out of fashion.

Yet weeping Beauty mourns the time
— When Love found words in flowers;
When softest sighs were breathed in rhyme,
— And sweetest songs in bowers;
Now wedlock is a sober thing —
— No more of chains or forges! —
A plain young man — a plain gold ring —
— The curate — and St. George's.

Then every cross-bow had a string,
— And every heart a fetter;
And making love was quite the thing,
— And making verses better;
And maiden-aunts were never seen,
— And gallant beaux were plenty;
And lasses married at sixteen,
— And died at one-and-twenty.

Then hawking was a noble sport,
— And chess a pretty science;
And huntsmen learned to blow a morte ,
— And heralds a defiance;
And knights and spearmen showed their might,
— And timid hinds took warning;
And hypocras was warmed at night,
— And coursers in the morning.

Then plumes and pennons were prepared,
— And patron-saints were lauded;
And noble deeds were bravely dared,
— And noble dames applauded;
And Beauty played the leech's part,
— And wounds were healed with syrup;
And warriors sometimes lost a heart,
— But never lost a stirrup.

Then there was no such thing as Fear,
— And no such word as Reason;
And Faith was like a pointed spear,
— And Fickleness was treason;
And hearts were soft, though blows were hard;
— But when the fight was over,
A brimming goblet cheered the board,
— His Lady's smile the lover.

Ay, those were golden days! The moon
— Had then her true adorers;
And there were lyres and lutes in tune,
— And no such thing as snorers;
And lovers swam, and held at naught
— Streams broader than the Mersey;
And fifty thousand would have fought
— For a smile from Lady Jersey.

Then people wore an iron vest,
— And had no use for tailors;
And the artizans who lived the best
— Were armorers and nailers;
And steel was measured by the ell,
— And trousers lined with leather;
And jesters wore a cap and bell,
— And knights a cap and feather.

Then single folks might live at ease,
— And married ones might sever;
Uncommon doctors had their fees,
— But Doctor's Commons never;
O! had we in those times been bred,
— Fair cousin, for thy glances,
Instead of breaking Priscian's head,
— I had been breaking lances!