If they scribble in ballads, their young Lochinvar
Shall boast of no steed but his steam-rushing car, —
Save his high-pressure engine, companions have none,
As he rides all unarmed, as he rides all alone.
And though no such change will e'er come upon love,
Which is fixed upon bases which never can move;
Though it flow like the Solway, and ebb like its tide,
As it has through all ages, since Eve was a bride;
Though one touch to the hand and one word in the ear
Shall ever be proof an elopement is near, —
To what a strange seat his fair lady he'll swing!
How quick to the safety-valve after her spring!
And his cry, " She is won, and no turnpike can bar;
They've good boilers that follow the young Lochinvar. "

Heaven shield them from trying, as thus they rush on,
To swim the Eske river, where ford there is none;
Though matchless we own them for swift locomoting,
These iron-built horses are not fit for floating.
Yet the poet might hint 't was in Eske's surges drowned,
Why fair Ellen of Netherby never was found;
And if for denouement more sad he were faulted,
Let his boiler collapse, and his lovers be scalded.