William Schwenck Gilbert

Songs of a Savoyard. Eheu Fugaces--!

The air is charged with amatory numbers--
  Soft madrigals, and dreamy lovers' lays.
Peace, peace, old heart! Why waken from its slumbers
  The aching memory of the old, old days?

Time was when Love and I were well acquainted.
  Time was when we walked ever hand in hand;
A saintly youth, with worldly thought untainted,
  None better-loved than I in all the land!
Time was, when maidens of the noblest station,
  Forsaking even military men,
Would gaze upon me, rapt in adoration--
  Ah, me, I was a fair young curate then!

Had I a headache? sighed the maids assembled;
  Had I a cold? welled forth the silent tear;
Did I look pale? then half a parish trembled;
  And when I coughed all thought the end was near!
I, had no care--no jealous doubts hung o'er me--
  For I was loved beyond all other men.
Fled gilded dukes and belted earls before me!
  Ah, me! I was a pale young curate then!