And overcome antipathies

Which never have existed, e'en

In little maidens of thirteen?

And what like menaces fatigues,

Entreaties, oaths, fictitious fear,

Epistles of six sheets or near,

Rings, tears, deceptions and intrigues,

Aunts, mothers and their scrutiny,

And husbands' tedious amity?

III.

Such were the musings of Eugene.

He in the early years of life

Had a deluded victim been

Of error and the passions' strife.

By daily life deteriorated,

Awhile this beauty captivated,

And that no longer could inspire.

Slowly exhausted by desire,

Yet satiated with success,

In solitude or worldly din,

He heard his soul's complaint within,

With laughter smothered weariness:

And thus he spent eight years of time,

Destroyed the blossom of his prime.

IV.

Though beauty he no more adored,

He still made love in a queer way;

Rebuffed - as quickly reassured,

Jilted - glad of a holiday.

Without enthusiasm he met

The fair, nor parted with regret,

Scarce mindful of their love and guile.

Thus a guest with composure will

To take a hand at whist oft come:

He takes his seat, concludes his game,