But to me you are still what I found you, Before you grew clever and tall;
And you'll think of the spell that once bound you, And you'll come-won't you come?—to our Ball! WINTHROP Mackworth PRAED.
OU used to talk,” said Miss MacCall, "Of flowers, and flames, and Cupid; But now you never talk at all;
You're getting vastly stupid:
You'd better burn your Blackstone, sir, You never will get through it; There's a Fancy Ball at Winchester,- Do let us take you to it!"
I made that night a solemn vow To startle all beholders; I wore white muslin on my brow, Green velvet on my shoulders; My trousers were supremely wide, I learnt to swear "by Allah!" I stuck a poniard by my side, And called myself "Abdallah."
Oh, a fancy ball's a strange affair! Made up of silks and leathers,
Light heads, light heels, false hearts, false hair,
Pins, paint, and ostrich feathers:
The dullest duke in all the town
To-day may shine a droll one;
And rakes who have not half-a-crown Look royal in a whole one.
Go, call the lawyer from his pleas, The schoolboy from his Latin; Be stoics here in ecstasies, And savages in satin ; Let young and old forego-forget Their labour and their sorrow, And none except the Cabinet— Take counsel for the morrow.
Begone, dull care! This life of ours Is very dark and chilly; We'll sleep through all its serious hours, And laugh through all its silly. Be mine such motley scene as this, Where, by established usance, Miss Gravity is quite amiss,
And Madam Sense a nuisance!
Hail, blest Confusion! here are met All tongues, and times, and faces, The Lancers flirt with Juliet,
The Brahmin talks of races;
And where's your genius, bright Corinne ? And where's your brogue, Sir Lucius ?
And Chinca Ti, you have not seen One chapter of Confucius.
Lo! dandies from Kamschatka flirt With beauties from the Wrekin; And belles from Berne look very pert On Mandarins from Pekin;
The Cardinal is here from Rome, The Commandant from Seville; And Hamlet's father from the tomb, And Faustus from the Devil.
O sweet Anne Page!-those dancing eyes Have peril in their splendour;
"O sweet Anne Page !"—so Slender sighs, And what am I, but slender? Alas! when next your spells engage So fond and starved a sinner,
My pretty Page, be Shakespeare's Page, And ask the fool to dinner!
What mean those laughing Nuns, I pray, What mean they, nun or fairy?
guess they told no beads to-day,
And sang no Ave Mary:
From mass and matins, priest and pix, Barred door, and window grated,
I wish all pretty Catholics
Were thus emancipated!
Four Seasons come to dance quadrilles With four well-seasoned sailors; And Raleigh talks of railroad bills, With Timon, prince of railers ; I find Sir Charles of Aubyn Park Equipt for a walk to Mecca ; And I run away from Joan of Arc To romp with sad Rebecca.
Fair Cleopatra's very plain;
Puck halts, and Ariel swaggers; And Cæsar's murdered o'er again, Though not by Roman daggers: Great Charlemagne is four feet high; Sad stuff has Bacon spoken; Queen Mary's waist is all awry, And Psyche's nose is broken.
Our happiest bride-how very odd!- Is the mourning Isabella;
And the heaviest foot that ever trod Is the foot of Cinderella; Here sad Calista laughs outright, There Yorick looks most grave, sir, And a Templar waves the cross to-night Who never crossed the wave, sir!
And what a Babel is the talk :
“The Giraffe ”—" plays the fiddle ""Macadam's roads"- "I hate this chalk!
"Good heaven! who taught that man to waltz?”. "A pair of Shetland ponies."
"Lord Nugent"-" an enchanting shape "Will move for "- "Maraschino "- 'Pray, Julia, how's your mother's ape?"- "He died at Navarino!"
"The gout, by Jove, is "-" apple pie "—
"Don Miguel "_"Tom the tinker".
"His Lordship's pedigree's as high As"-"Whipcord, dam by Clinker.”
"Love's shafts are weak"-"my chestnut kicks". "Heart broken "- "broke the traces
"What say you now of politics?"
Change sides and to your places."
"A five-barred gate"-" a precious pearl "Grave things may all be punned on!""The Whigs, thank Heaven! are "_"out of curl!"
"Her age is". -"four by London!"
Thus run the giddy hours away, Till morning's light is beaming, And we must go to dream by day All we to-night are dreaming,- To smile and sigh, to love and change: Oh, in our heart's recesses,
We dress in fancies quite as strange As these our fancy dresses!
WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED.
OOD night to thee, Lady! Though many Have join'd in the dance of to-night, Thy form was the fairest of any, Where all was seducing and bright;
Thy smile was the softest and dearest, Thy form the most sylph-like of all, And thy voice the most gladsome and clearest That e'er held a partner in thrall.
Good night to thee, Lady! 'tis over- The waltz, the quadrille, and the song- The whisper'd farewell of the lover, The heartless adieu of the throng; The heart that was throbbing with pleasure, The eyelid that long'd for repose- The beaux that were dreaming of treasure, The girls that were dreaming of beaux.
"Tis over-the lights are all dying, The coaches all driving away; And many a fair one is sighing, And many a false one is gay;
« PreviousContinue » |