Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/151

—Some superstitious legend, she
Had listening, learn'd in infancy,
That when old age should o'er her creep
And dotage lull her powers to sleep,
A flaming foe, with purpose dire,
Should rushing, set her clothes on fire.
She fear'd he might forestall the time,
Although she scarce was in her prime
She said;—but yet was prone to make
About her age some slight mistake,—
Like waning spinsters, who forget
Nothing,—except their proper date,
And sometimes tear the leaf outright
From bible register in spite.
So mother Earth oppressed with fear,
Blamed her unfriendly atmosphere,
And faint and nervous, shriek'd to see
Her sole attendant, apogee,
And rang and call'd like timid crone,
Caught in a thunder-storm alone.
—Miss Luna, muffling up her head,
Went with the ague, straight to bed,
Put out her lamp, and bade them tell
She could not hear her mistress' bell,
Begg'd them with motherwort to dose her,
And drew her cloudy night-cap closer.—
—But beauteous Venus, newly drest,
Was glad to hear of stranger-guest,
Peer'd out to see his trappings shine,
And smiled and murmur'd—"La! how fine!
Phœbus so stingy is, and cold,
That our court-dresses all are old,—