Go, call the lawyer from his pleas, And savages in satin ; Let young and old forego-forget Begone, dull care! This life of ours And Madam Sense a nuisance! Hail, blest Confusion! here are met 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 The Cardinal is here from Rome, O sweet Anne Page!-those dancing eyes "O sweet Anne Page !"-so Slender sighs, My pretty Page, be Shakespeare's Page, What mean those laughing Nuns, I pray, From mass and matins, priest and pix, I wish all pretty Catholics Four Seasons come to dance quadrilles Fair Cleopatra's very plain; Puck halts, and Ariel swaggers; Our happiest bride-how very odd!- And the heaviest foot that ever trod Is the foot of Cinderella ; And what a Babel is the talk : sir ! "The Giraffe "- -"plays the fiddle ". "Macadam's roads"-" I hate this chalk!" “Sweet girl ”—“ a charming riddle ""I'm nearly drunk with "-" Epsom salts ". "Yes, separate beds "- -"such cronies !""Good heaven! who taught that man to waltz?”"A pair of Shetland ponies." "He died at Navarino!" ape?" "The gout, by Jove, is "-" apple pie "Don Miguel " 66 Tom the tinker ". "His Lordship's pedigree's as high وو 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!" I Thus run the giddy hours away, WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED. GOOD NIGHT. OOD night to thee, Lady! Though many Thy smile was the softest and dearest, Good night to thee, Lady! 'tis over- 'Tis over-the lights are all dying, And beauty counts over her numbers Of conquests, as homeward she drivesAnd some are gone home to their slumbers, And some are gone home to their wives. And I while my cab in the shower Is waiting, the last at the door, Am looking all round for the flower That fell from your wreath on the floor. I'll keep it if but to remind me, Though wither'd and faded its hueWherever next season may find me— Of England-of Almack's-and you! There are tones that will haunt us, though lonely There are looks that will part from us only There are hopes which our burthen can lighten, And dreams that, like moonlight, can brighten There are names that we cherish, tho' nameless, There are hearts that, tho' fetter'd, are tameless, And some are too grave for a rover, EDWARD FITZGERALD. |