Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Toujours les Femmes

Toujours Les Femmes.
I think it was a Persian kingWho used to say, that evermoreIn human life each evil thingComes of the sex that men adore;That nought, in brief, had e'er befellTo harm or grieve our hapless race,But, if you probe the matter well,You'll find a woman in the case!
And then the curious tale is toldHow, when upon a certain nightA climbing youngster lost his hold,And, falling from a ladder's height,Was found, alas! next morning dead,His majesty, with solemn face,As was his wont, demurely said,"Pray, who's the woman in the case?"
And how a lady in his Court,Who deemed the royal whim absurd,Rebuked him while she made reportOf the mischance that late occurred;Whereat the king replied in glee,"I've heard the story, please your grace,And all the witnesses agreeThere was a woman in the case!
"The truth, your ladyship, is this,(Nor is it marvellous at all,)The youth was climbing for a kiss,And got, instead, a fatal fall.Whene'er a man—as I have said—Falls from a ladder, or from grace,Or breaks his faith, or breaks his head,There is a woman in the case!"
For such, a churlish, carping creedAs that his majesty professed,I hold him of unkingly breed—Unless, in sooth, he spoke in jest;To me, few things have come to passOf good event, but, I can trace—Thanks to the matron or the lass—Somewhere, a woman in the case.
Yet once, while gaily strolling whereA vast Museum still displaysIts varied wealth of strange and rare,To charm, or to repel the gaze—I—to a lady (who deniedThe creed by laughing in my face)—Took up, for once, the Persian's sideAbout a woman in the case.
Discoursing thus, we came uponA grim Egyptian mummy—deadSome centuries since. "'Tis Pharaoh's son—Perhaps—who knows?"—the lady said.No!—on the black sarcophagusA female name I stooped to trace;"Toujours les femmes! 'Tis ever thus—There is a woman in the case!"