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Though my Ball was the best of all possible Balls,
Though I graced my Saloon like a Queen, I've a headache to-day, so if any one calls,
“ Not at home!”-I am not to be seen. Not at home! not at home! bring strong coffee
at two, But now leave me to doze in the dark ;I'm too pale for my pink, I'm too brown for my
blue, I'm too sick for my drive in the Park. If the man whose attentions are pointed should call (Eliza,
know who I mean), Oh! say, when he knocks, I'm knock'd up by my
ball, “Not at home!”-I am not to be seen. Not at home to Sir John, not at home to the
Count, Not at home till my ringlets are curld; Should the jeweller call, with his little account,
Not at home! not at home for the world! I at midnight must shine at three splendid at
homes, Then adieu to my morning chagrin ; Close my curtains again, for till candlelight comes, “ Not at home!”-I am not to be seen.
THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY.
“ MY HUSBAND MEANS EXTREMELY
Y husband means extremely well,
Good, honest, humdrum man;
How first our feuds began.
It was a match of
my Mama's,— No match at all, I mean; Unless declining fifty has
One feature like fifteen,
I long’d to leave the prosy set,
Papa and durance vile;
And four neat Greys in style:
He wooed me fourteen days, And I consented, though his head
Was greyer than his greys.
For, oh! I pin’d for Pineries,
Plate, pin-money, and pearls ; For smiles from Royal Highnesses,
Dukes, Marquises, and Earls :
And notic'd by the King;
It was a settled thing.
Turns night to day, he says,
Benighting all my days!
At twelve I ring my bell ;
THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY.
NO LONGER JEALOUS.
boldness to say ; But now he's grown old, he may say what he
will, I laugh at his nonsense and take nothing ill. Indeed I must say he's a little improved, For he watches no longer the "slily beloved," No longer at once he awakens my fears, Not a glance he perceives, not a whisper he hears. If he heard one of late, it has never transpired, For his only delight is to see me admired; And now pray what better return can I make, Than to flirt and be always admired—for his sake ?
WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.
A BASSINETTE BALLAD.
T'S tea-time, nurse; I'll take your place-
So sweetly sleeping !
And years come creeping !
Where are the moths that buzzed about,
I'm quite deserted.
Or how we Airted ?
When only lazy plash of oars
Delicious cool days!
of who took me last
In my old school days!
Across the water.
Madras, a daughter."
In Hamlet's buskin.
One more, my poor first love, appears,
A Harrow Crichton.
Bookworm and bat, what runs he made !
Like Toots, at Brighton!
And “languid lashes.”
Peace to his ashes !
No, Jane, I'll wear the blue to-night;
H. B. FREEMAN.
“THIS IS MY ELDEST DAUGHTER.” HIS is my eldest daughter, Sir,--her
mother's only care. You praise her face--Oh, Sir, she is as
good as she is fair.