The poetical works of Winthrop Mackworth Praed, Volume 2

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Page 199 - Miss Lane, at her Temple of Fashion, Taught us both how to sing and to speak, And we loved one another with passion, Before we had been there a week ; You gave me a ring for a token ; I wear it wherever I go ; I gave you a chain,— is it broken ? My own Araminta, say 'No!
Page 200 - Remember the thrilling romances We read on the bank in the glen ; Remember the suitors our fancies Would picture for both of us then. They wore the red cross on their shoulder, They had vanquished and pardoned their foe — Sweet friend, are you wiser or colder ? My own Araminta, say 'No!
Page 132 - But often, when the cares of life Have set my temples aching, When visions haunt me of a wife, When duns await my waking, When Lady Jane is in a pet, Or...
Page 131 - Pursuing every idle dream, And shunning every warning ; With no hard work but Bovney Stream, No chill except Long Morning : Now stopping Harry Vernon's ball, That rattled like a rocket • Now hearing Wentworth's "Fourteen all...
Page 130 - Twelve years ago I was a boy, A happy boy, at Drury's. Twelve years ago ! — how many a thought Of faded pains and pleasures Those whispered syllables have brought From memory's hoarded treasures ! The fields, the farms, the bats, the books, The glories and disgraces, The voices of dear friends, the...
Page 132 - Wild Nick, whose oaths made such a din, Does Dr. Martext's duty; And Mullion, with that monstrous chin, Is married to a. Beauty; And Darrell studies, week by week, His Mant, and not his Manton; And Ball, who was but poor at Greek, Is very rich at Canton.
Page 219 - Good night to the Season! — the dances, The fillings of hot little rooms, The glancings of rapturous glances, The fancyings of fancy costumes ; The pleasures which fashion makes duties, The praisings of fiddles and flutes, The luxury of looking at Beauties, The tedium of talking to mutes ; The female diplomatists, planners Of matches for Laura and Jane ; The ice of her Ladyship's manners, The ice of his Lordship's champagne.
Page 218 - tis over ! Gay dwellings no longer are gay ; The courtier, the gambler, the lover, Are scattered like swallows away ; There's nobody left to invite one, Except my good uncle and spouse ; My mistress is bathing at Brighton, My patron is sailing at Cowes ; For want of a better employment, Till Ponto and Don can get out, I'll cultivate rural enjoyment, And angle immensely for trout.
Page 221 - Will it come with a blessing or curse? Will its bonnets be lower or higher? Will its morals be better or worse? Will it find me grown thinner or fatter, Or fonder of wrong or of right, Or married — or buried? — no matter: Good night to the Season — good night!
Page 132 - To shiver in the lobby ; I wish that I could run away From house, and court, and levee, Where bearded men appear to-day, Just Eton boys, grown heavy...

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