AH! who but oft hath marveled why The gods who rule above Should e'er permit the young to die, The old to fall in love! Ah! why should hapless human-kind Be punished out of season? Pray listen, and perhaps you'll find My rhyme may give the reason. Death, strolling out one summer's day Met Cupid, with his sparrows; And, bantering in a merry way, Proposed a change of arrows. "Agreed!" quoth Cupid, "I foresee The queerest game of errors; For you the King of Hearts will be, And I'll be King of Terrors." And so't was done. Alas the day That multiplied their arts! Each from the other bore away A portion of his darts, And that explains the reason why, Despite the gods above, The young are often doomed to die The old to fall in love! |