The Maid by Jean de La Fontaine — Read

A certain maid, as proud as fair, / A husband thought to find / Exactly to her mind -- / Well-form'd and young, genteel in air, / Not cold nor jealous; -- mark this well. / Whoe'er would wed this dainty belle / Must have, besides rank, wealth, and wit, / And all good qualities to fit -- / A man 'twere difficult to get. / Kind Fate, however, took great care / To grant, if possible, her prayer. / There came a-wooing men of note; / The maiden thought them all, / By half, too mean and small. / 'They marry me! the creatures dote: -- / Alas! poor souls! their case I pity. ' / (Here mark the bearing of the beauty.) / Some were less delicate than witty; / Some had the nose too short or long; / In others something else was wrong; / Which made each in the maiden's eyes / An altogether worthless prize. / Profound contempt is aye the vice / Which springs from being over-nice, / Thus were the great dismiss'd; and then / Came offers from inferior men. / The maid, more scornful than before, / Took credit to her tender heart / For giving then an open door. / 'They think me much in haste to part / With independence! God be thank'd / My lonely nights bring no regret; / Nor shall I pine, or greatly fret, / Should I with ancient maids be rank'd. ' / Such were the thoughts that pleased the fair: / Age made them only thoughts that were. / Adieu to lovers: -- passing years / Awaken doubts and chilling fears. / Regret, at last, brings up the train. / Day after day she sees, with pain, / Some smile or charm take final flight, / And leave the features of a 'fright. ' / Then came a hundred sorts of paint: / But still no trick, nor ruse, nor feint, / Avail'd to hide the cause of grief, / Or bar out Time, that graceless thief. / A house, when gone to wreck and ruin, / May be repair'd and made a new one. / Alas! for ruins of the face / No such rebuilding e'er takes place. / Her daintiness now changed its tune; / Her mirror told her, 'Marry soon! ' / So did a certain wish within, / With more of secrecy than sin, -- / A wish that dwells with even prudes, / Annihilating solitudes. / This maiden's choice was past belief, / She soothing down her restless grief, / And smoothing it of every ripple, / By marrying a cripple.[1]

[1]: This fable should be read in conjunction with the foregoing one.