Page:The Works of Alexander Pope (1717).djvu/299

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The WIFE of BATH.
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If e'er I slept, I dream'd of him alone,And dreams foretel, as learned men have shownAll this I said; but Dream, sirs, I had none,I follow'd but my crafty crony's lore,Who bid me tell this lye—and twenty more.Thus day by day, and month by month we past;It pleas'd the Lord to take my spouse at last!I tore my gown, I soil'd my locks with dust,And beat my breasts, as wretched widows—must.Before my face my handkerchief I spread,To hide the flood of tears I did—not shed.The good man's coffin to the Church was born;Around, the neighbours, and my clerk too, mourn.But as he march'd, good Gods! he show'd a pairOf legs and feet, so clean, so strong, so fair!Of twenty winters age he seem'd to be;I (to say truth) was twenty more than he;But vig'rous still, a lively buxom dame;And had a wond'rous gift to quench a flame.

A con-

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