| |
| FIT theme for song, the sylvan maid | |
| Who, if she knew not fauns or satyrs, | |
| Had conjured oft in mossy shade | |
| Visions of savage pale-face haters; | |
| I trow she dined on pork and maize | 5 |
| In cabin, single-roomed and sooted, | |
| Quite innocent of frills and stays, | |
| Warm-hearted and bare-footed. | |
| |
| Her beauty surely brought her note,— | |
| Its praises fed her soul like manna; | 10 |
| Gossip o’er furtive tales did gloat, | |
| Sacred to Venus not Diana; | |
| But when the valiant lover came | |
| He crushed the scandal pests like vermin; | |
| A terror hedged the hero’s name | 15 |
| And she was white as ermine. | |
| |
| Thenceforth, a matron fair and fat, | |
| She shared the doting warrior’s station. | |
| Thais with Alexander sat | |
| And heard the plaudits of a nation; | 20 |
| Though envious souls with poisoned leer | |
| Offset her new life by the other, | |
| The hero held her yet more dear, | |
| Stainless as Mary Mother. | |
| |
| Weary of fortune’s smile and frown | 25 |
| She died without the White House portal, | |
| But never wife wore richer crown, | |
| A sacred troth and love immortal: | |
| That love had made a queen of her | |
| Whom haughty dames turned prudish backs on, | 30 |
| And History smiles but has no slur | |
| For Mistress Andrew Jackson. | |
| |
