Great-Grandma’s Weeing

Great-Grandma’s Wedding.
By Catherine Jewett
102.1

SWEET Great-grandma looks a saint,
With her white hair, and her quaint ‘
Broidered kerchief folded down
Primly o’er her satin gown,

As she tells in accents low,
Wonder tales of long ago,
When all the men had manners fine,
When Knighthood’s flower was in its prime;

When maidens fair were mild and sweet,
Modest spoken, and discreet,
Learned in all housewifely art,
Clean of body, pure of heart.

Heart alive! those malds were true!
The men were monstrous genteel, too;
And when with fingers lightly met
They trod the stately minuet

It was a picture good to see,
Of grace and gentle dignity;
Of manhood in its perfect prime,
Of girlhood in its blossom time.

Their smiling elders walked apart
And wisely mated heart to heart.
For children dared not say them “nay,”
Great-grandma says, in that old day.

And yet despite Great-grandma’s word
Another’s tale I oft have heard
About a willful little maid,
Who both her parents disobeyed;

Who would not wed the suitor old,
That wooing came with lands and gold,
But rashly ran away instead
To follow where a lover led,-

Because her foolish heart, forsooth,
Was given to a giddy younth.
For maids were fond, and men were bold
Long, long ago, in days of old.

Full many a word was whispered low
As they went bowing to and fro,
With hearts aflame, as warm hands met
In many an old-time minuet.

And she was young and passing fair,-
Too sweet a bloom for age to wear.
Her parents wisely chose for pelf;
She chose (the minx) to please herself.

The wedding dress itself was made,
A dream of silver and brocade;
Its flashing gems, its priceless lace,
The bodice of a queen might grace.

The richest gifts in all the land
The groom had brought with lavish hand,
While eager guests, from far and near,
Were bidden to the wedding cheer.

Yet still the willful little bride
Within her chamber wept and sighed
Until she heard the glasses ring
High o’er the riotous reveling.

Quick then she crept across the hall,
Swift scaled the garden’s prisoning wall;
And so the tale was all complete,-
A man, a maid, a courser fleet.

Oh! swift they rode o’er dale and hill,
And ever swift, and swifter still;
While close behind, with pothering muss,
With pistol, sword and blunderbuss,

The gray groom followed, breathing ire,
And, neck and neck, her angry sire,
While crowding on, with ribald shout,
Rode guest, and squire, and serving lout.

Wine-mad, to help a father bend
A daughter’s heart to his own end;
Wine-mad, to hunt the flying pair,
As beasts are hunted, to their lair.

Oh! long the race, and stern the pace,
And cruel grew the tireless chase,
Until they reached a river wide.
With broken bridge and swollen tide.

One swaying plank the waters spanned,
Wild swirled the waves on either hand.
“Tis death to try that dizzy way;
Say, sweetheart, will you go or stay?”

Her lover whispered, and the maid
Made answer straightway, undismayed:
“Life may divide, but death is true;
Come life, come death, I ride with you!”

And no pursuer dared to tread,
Where man and maid to safety sped,
But watched them swiftly ride away
To happiness that happy day.

And thus it was, with shot and shout,
Great-grandma’s wedding came about;
Great-grandma, modest, meek, and mild,
A gentle and obedient child.