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Good night to the Season !—the flowers
Of the grand Horticultural fête, When boudoirs were quitted for bowers,
And the fashion was not to be late; When all who had money and leisure
Grew rural o'er ices and wines, All pleasantly toiling for pleasure,
All hungrily pining for pines, And making of beautiful speeches,
And massing of beautiful shows, And feeding on delicate peaches,
And treading on delicate toes.
Good night to the Season 1-Another
Will come, with its trifles and toys, And hurry away, like its brother,
In sunshine, and odour, and noise. Will it come with a rose or a briar?
Will it come with a blessing or curse ? Will its bonnets be lower or higher ?
Will its morals be better or worse ?
Or fonder of wrong or of right,
Good night to the Season-good night!
SONG.–YES OR NO.
My Lady is fair and free;
But their path, we know, is a path of woe,
And many the reason guess, The Baron will ever mutter “No”
When my Lady whispers “ Yes." The Baron will pass the wine-cup round,
My Lady forth will roam;
My Lady sits at home;
My Lady will go to chess;
When my Lady whispers “Yes."
If my Lady sings it not ;
If it beam in my Lady's grot;
If it be not my Lady's dress;
When my Lady whispers “Yes.”
Be ready in the porch;
And trusty Will, with a torch ;
No matter, -on we press;
When my Lady whispers “ Yes.”
"I can dream, sir, If I eat well and sleep well."
-The Mad Lover,
If I could scare the light away,
No sun should ever shine;
Thick darkness should be mine :
I hate whate'er I see ;
In slumber's hour for me.
I had a vision yesternight
Of a lovelier land than this, Where heaven was clothed in warmth and light,
Where earth was full of bliss ; And every tree was rich with fruits,
And every field with flowers, And every zephyr wakened lutes
In passion-haunted bowers.
I clambered up a lofty rock,
And did not find it steep ;
And did not fall asleep;
I paid whate'er I owe;
With the gout in every toe.
And I was more than six feet high,
And fortunate, and wise ;
And I had a voice of melody
And beautiful black eyes;
My barrels carried true,
And winning cards at loo.
Who spoke without disguise ;
All libels should be lies :
Of wheat, and nothing more ;
Who was not quite a bore.
The sheep wore whiter wool;
And an innocent John Bull:
The hangman looked forlorn,
For freedom of trade in corn.
Where plough was never brought;
What he was never taught:
For a lottery with no blanks;
Without a single Bankes.
To cuffs for half-a-crown ;
And lawyers who were eloquent
Without a wig and gown;
Their greyhounds and their guns ;
And did not dread the duns.
And no man feared the Pope;
Of liberty and soap;
Had just resigned the seals;
Was hearing Scotch appeals.
Where a fee had been refused;
Where the rod was never used; And the sugar still was very sweet,
Though all the slaves were free;
Had learnt the rule of three.
December breathed like June :
Of temper-or of tune;
Potatoes ate like pine ;
Nothing grew old but wine.
The worshipped one, wert there,