Moore tells us, in his dulcet lays,
A damsel, in the good old days,
Fell most imprudently in love
With some stray seraph from above;
And once — so runs the tragic story —
This youth revealed his perfect glory,
Which, bursting forth in lurid flashes,
Consumed that beauteous maid to ashes!

There was a maid of modern times,
Who warning took from these sad rhymes,
And dreaming not an angel might
With amorous sighs about her hover,
And asking not, and caring not,
For so combustible a lover,
In life's strange drama wisely chose
A safe and less ambitious part,
In man alone sufficient found
For fancy, intellect, and heart.