[ADAPTED FROM THE FRENCH OF VINTMREa
You bid me try, Blue Eyes, to write
A rondeau. What !—forthwith ?—to-night?
Reflect. Some skill I have, 'tis true ; But thirteen lines, and rhymed on two !— " I must," you say. Ah, luckless plight !
Still, there are five,—and ranged aright.
These Gallic bonds, I feared, would fright My easy Muse. They did, till you,—
You bid me try !
That makes them nine. The port's in sight ;
'Tis all because your eyes are bright!
Now just one line to end in " ott,"— When maids command, what can't we do !
Behold !—the Rondeau, tasteful, light, You bid me try!