« PreviousContinue »
None love you a quarter so truly
As some you will find at our Ball.
They tell me you've many who flatter,
Because of your wit and your song ;
You like to be praised by the throng :
They tell me you're loved by a Blue ;
Dear Clarence, that cannot be true!
Before you grew clever and tall ;
And you'll come, won't you come ? to our Ball ?
“There is perhaps, no subject of more universal interest in the whole range of natural knowledge, than that of the unceasing fluctuations which take place in the atmosphere in which we are immersed."
At Cheltenham, where one drinks one's fill
Of folly and cold water,
With old Sir Geoffrey's daughter.
When summer's rose is newest ;
When autumn's sky is bluest ;
Of life's most precious flowers,
And half were of its showers.
I spoke of novels :-“ Vivian Grey ”
And “Frankenstein ” alarming ;
I said “De Vere ” was chastely told,
Thought well of “ Herbert Lacy,”
And Lady Morgan's “racy ;".
Was vastly entertaining ;
Because it's always raining !"
I talked of music's gorgeous fane, . I raved about Rossini, Hoped Ronzo would come back again,
And criticised Pacini ;
The trumpets more pacific,
And voted Paul “terrific.” What cared she for Medea’s pride
Or Desdemona's sorrow ? “Alas !" my beauteous listener sighed,
“ We must have storms to-morrow!
Of poisonous lakes, and barren sands,
Vast forests, trackless mountains ;
I lauded Persian roses,
And jests for Indian noses ;
And Vienna's dread of treason ;
Stood at Madrid last season.
I broached whate’er had gone its rounds,
The week before, of scandal ; What made Sir Luke lay down his hounds,
And Jane take up her Handel ; Why Julia walked upon the heath,
With the pale moon above her; Where Flora lost her false front teeth,
And Anne her false lover ; How Lord de B. and Mrs. L.
Had crossed the sea together ; My shuddering partner cried— “Oh, Ceil!
How could they in such weather ?
Was she a blue ?-I put my trust
In strata, petals, gases ;
The toga and the fasces;
Of folly from Endymion ;
Of Messrs. Way and Simeon ;
To quote the morning paper; The horrid phantoms come again,
Rain, hail, and snow, and vapour.
Flat flattery was my only chance,
I acted deep devotion,
Grace in her every motion ;
Prayer, passion, folly, feeling ; And wildly looked upon the floor,
And wildly on the ceiling ; I envied gloves upon her arm,
And shawls upon her shoulder ;