Another of our comrades, in those days
When wisdom has for youth no argument,
And conscience on him no commandment lays
That can prevail against a maid’s consent,--
He also found that ’twas the hot pursuit
And not the maiden that inspired his zest;
And other fairer maids of fleeter foot
Called him from one too easily possessed.
But she was not of those who make the slip
And miss the fall, like many a merry dame:
She felt the tightening of dishonour’s grip,
Still loving him who brought on her the shame.
And one day walking by a river bank,
He found a little group of villagers
Standing beside a body, dead and dank,--
And when he looked the face he saw was hers.
The conduct of these comrades was akin,
Though the world read it in the sequel’s light:
The one through life recalled a pleasant sin;
Remorse pursued the other day and night.
And, are you Nature’s weakling instrument,
Your fortune may be such as prompts a laugh
Among good fellows; or the fire she lent
May burn into your soul an epitaph.