The Gypsy's Prophecy.
A young Maiden met with a Gipsy one day,
And crossing her palm with a coin,
Said—"Dame, you tell fortunes—at least, so they say—
And I wish very much to know mine."
"So you shall," said the Gipsy, and taking her hand,
Looked stedfastly on it awhile;
"You will shortly be tied, dear, in Hymen's silk band"—
"But, to whom?" asked the Maid, with a smile.
"To one," said the Gipsy, "whose hair is dark brown:
His eyes! yes, his eyes are light blue."
"What nonsense!" the Maid said, affecting to frown;
But she thought, "Well, if this should come true!"
"He is tall, and good-looking," continued the Dame,
(The Maiden looked monstrous prim!)
"And I could, but I will not, reveal his dear name"—
Said the Maid, "She must surely mean—him."
The Maiden was happy, and so was the crone,
As twinkling her merry dark eye,
She mutter'd, "How vexed she'd have been had she known
That the man of her heart was close by!"
So it was—for the Swain that the Sybil foretold
Should marry this Maiden so true,
Had hid where alone the old jade could behold;
And so her prediction came true!
