VÆ VICTIS.
Reading edition
"My Kate, at the Waterloo Column, To-morrow, precisely at eight; Remember, thy promise was solemn, And—thine till to-morrow, my Kate!" * * * * * That evening seemed strangely to linger,— The licence and luggage were packed; And Time, with a long and short finger, Approvingly marked me exact. Arrived, woman's constancy blessing, No end of nice people I see; Some hither, some thitherwards pressing,— But none of them waiting for me. Time passes, my watch how I con it! I see her—she's coming—no, stuff! Instead of Kate's smart little bonnet, It is aunt, and her wonderful muff! (Yes, Fortune deserves to be chidden, It is a coincidence queer, Whenever one wants to be hidden, One's relatives always appear.) Near nine! how the passers despise me, They smile at my anguish, I think; And even the sentinel eyes me, And tips that policeman the wink. Ah! Kate made me promises solemn, At eight she had vowed to be mine;— While waiting for one at this column, I find I've been waiting for nine. O Fame! on thy pillar so steady, Some dupes watch beneath thee in vain:— How many have done it already! How many will do it again!