Page:The heptalogia, or, The seven against sense - a cap with seven bells (IA heptalogiaorseve00swin).pdf/67

 Faltered. A female in a wig Stood by me, and a drouthy voice Announced her—Mrs. Betsy Prig.

Sweet Love that sways the reeling years, The crown and chief of certitudes, For whose calm eyes and modest ears Time writes the rule and text of prudes— That, surpliced, stoops a nuptial head, Nor chooses to live blindly free, But, with all pulses quieted, Plays tunes of domesticity— That Love I sing of and have sung And mean to sing till Death yawn sheer, He rules the music of my tongue, Stills it or quickens, there or here.