"
It is as easy as prose to sing in this manner. For example:
"In fact, we need not be concerned; 'at last' comes very soon, and
our Emilia quite forgets the memory of the moon, the moon that shone
on her and us, the woods that heard our vows, the moaning of the
waters, and the murmur of the boughs. She is happy with another,
and by her we're quite forgot; she never lets a thought of us bring
shadow on her lot; and if we meet at dinner she's too clever to
repine, and mentions us to Mr. Smith as 'An old flame of mine.' And
shall I grieve that it is thus? and would I have her weep, and lose
her healthy appetite and break her healthy sleep? Not so, she's not
poetical, though ne'er shall I forget the fairy of my fancy whom I
once thought I had met. The fairy of my fancy! It was fancy, most
things are; her emotions were not steadfast as the shining of a
star; but, ah, I love her image yet, as once it shone on me, and
swayed me as the low moon sways the surging of the sea."
Among other sports his anxious friends hurried the lovelorn Bayly to
Scotland, where he wrote much verse, and then to Dublin, which
completed his cure. "He seemed in the midst of the crowd the gayest
of all, his laughter rang merry and loud at banquet and hall." He
thought no more of studying for the Church, but went back to Bath,
met a Miss Hayes, was fascinated by Miss Hayes, "came, saw, but did
NOT conquer at once," says Mrs.
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