Now, undesirous to prolong the tale—
By repetition what at Ruttendell
Was being enacted to commemorate
Th’ event, I’ll beg the reader back to Rollingate;
There, ’neath the portico, sweet flowers were laid
Promiscuously, to bear the lightsome tread
Of that pure virgin’s unstain’d wax-like form,
As yet a stranger to the inherent storm.
Lord Arnold had decreed that, on this day,
His labourers, servants, and his tenantry,
Should be partakers of the marriage-feast;
So ’round the stately doorway, there each guest,
(Of course—not one, but wore their very best,)
Full fifty, stood in regular marshall’d keep,
Cheering, most lustily, her ladyship,
As she alighted from the stately chaise,
And, like a fairy, trod the crimson baize,—
Which, on the doorsteps, had been placed with care
In the hour’s absence of the nuptial pair.