Into Love's arms my Lord was carried--
So was my Lady--then they married.
In this state some take no delight,
Nor smile when in each other's sight.
But our fond pair ne'er made a rout,
Except their 'dearest dear' was out.
Thus when two folks affections mingle,
They're twice as happy as when single.

If 'tis from Time our comfort springs,
Time changes quite the face of things;
And nothing, take a Bard's confession,
Will spoil a husband like possession.

Upon his hand reclin'd his head--
'Why do you yawn?' my Lady said.
The Peer reply'd --'As Scriptures spake,
A man and wife but one can make;
And I, my dear, feel, I must own,
Quite irksome when I'm left alone.'