Mirth and metre . she wont fret if the time should seem long;Snatches a kiss, which was pleasant but wrong fMounts, and taking a fence in good fox-hunting style,Sets off for her family-seat on the Weil. The sun went down,The bright stars burned, The morning came,And the knight returned ; The net he spread Oer the giants bed,While Eglantine, and Hare-bell blue,And some nice green moss on the spot he threw;Lest perchance the monster alarm should take,And not choose to sleep from being too widt awake. Hark to that sound! The rocks aroundTremble—it shakes the very ground; While Irmengard cries,As
Mirth and metre . she wont fret if the time should seem long;Snatches a kiss, which was pleasant but wrong fMounts, and taking a fence in good fox-hunting style,Sets off for her family-seat on the Weil. The sun went down,The bright stars burned, The morning came,And the knight returned ; The net he spread Oer the giants bed,While Eglantine, and Hare-bell blue,And some nice green moss on the spot he threw;Lest perchance the monster alarm should take,And not choose to sleep from being too widt awake. Hark to that sound! The rocks aroundTremble—it shakes the very ground; While Irmengard cries,As tears stream from her eyes,—A lady-like weakness we must not despise(And here, let me add, I have been much to blame,As I long ago ought to have mentioned her name): Here he comes ! now do hide yourself, dear Eppo, pray;For my sake, I entreat you, keep out of his way. Scarce had the knight Time to get out of sightAmong some thick bushes, which covered him quite,Ere the giant appeared. Oh! he was such a fright!. THE ENCHANTED NET. 51 He was very square built, a good twelve feet in height, And his waistcoat (three yards round the waist) seemed too tight; While, to add even yet to all this singularity, He had but one eye, and his whiskers were carroty. What an anxious moment! Will he lie down?Ah, how their hearts beat! he seems to frown,—No, tis only an impudent fly thats been teasingHis sm^lime proboscis, and set him a sneezing. Attish hu! attish hu! You brute, how I wish youWere but as genteel as the Irish lady, Dear Mrs. OGrady,Who, chancing to sneeze in a noble dukes face,Hoped she hadnt been guilty of splashing his , look out. Yes, he will! No, he wont! By the powers !I thought he was taking alarm at the flowers;But it luckily seems, his gigantic inventionHas at once set them down as a little attentionOn Irmengards part,—done by way of suggestionThat she means to say Yes, when he next pops the question. There! hes down! now he vawns, and in one minute more—
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