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In Parliament I fill my seat,
With many other noodles ;
And sip my hock at Boodle's.
Have sent my temples aching, When visions haunt me of a wife,
When duns await my waking,
Or Hoby in a hurry,
Or Beaulieu spoils a curry,–
Of each remembered hobby ;
To shiver in the Lobby;
From House, and Court, and Leveé, Where bearded men appear to-day
Just Eton boys grown heavy,
That I could bask in childhood's sun,
And dance o'er childhood's roses,
Vast wit in broken roses,
And call the milk-maids Houris,
A happy boy,-at Drury's.
ARRIVALS AT A WATERING-PLACE.
“I PLAY a spade.-Such strange new faces
Are flocking in from near and far ; Such frights !-(Miss Dobbs holds all the aces) —
One can't imagine who they are: The lodgings at enormous prices,
New donkeys, and another fly; And Madame Bonbon out of ices,
Although we're scarcely in July : We're quite as sociable as any,
But one old horse can scarcely crawl ; And really, where there are so many
We can't tell where we ought to call.
“Pray who has seen the odd old fellow
Who took the Doctor's house last week ?A pretty chariot,-livery yellow,
Almost as yellow as his cheek ; A widower, sixty-five, and surly,
And stiffer than a poplar tree; Drinks rum and water, gets up early
To dip his carcass in the sea;
And always talking of Bengal ;
I think, Louisa, we should call.
“And so Miss Jones, the mantua-maker,
Has let her cottage on the hill ! The drollest man,-a sugar baker
Last year imported from the till ; Prates of his ’orses and his 'oney,
Is quite in love with fields and farms;
A horrid Vandal,—but his money
Will buy a glorious coat of arms;
Some say he means to give a ball;
I think, Sir Thomas, you might call.
“ That poor young man !—I'm sure and certain
Despair is making up his shroud ; He walks all night beneath the curtain
Of the dim sky and murky cloud : Draws landscapes,—throws such mournful glances;
Writes verses, -has such splendid eyes; An ugly name, --but Laura fancies
He's some great person in disguise ! And since his dress is all the fashion,
And since he's very dark and tall, I think that out of pure compassion,
I'll get Papa to go and call.
“So Lord St. Ives is occupying
The whole of Mr. Ford's hotel !
A little nag I want to sell.
Blue eyes, -eighteen, or thereabouts ;--
But yet the femme de chambre doubts. She looked so pensive when we met her,
Poor thing !-and such a charming shawl !-Well ! till we understand it better,
It's quite impossible to call ! "Old Mr. Fund, the London Banker,
Arrived to-day at Premium Court ;
I would not, for the world, cast anchor
In such a horrid dangerous port ; Such dust and rubbish, lath and plaster,
(Contractors play the meanest tricks),The roof's as crazy as its master,
And he was born in fifty-six ;
The colonnade is sure to fall ;
Unless we make great haste to call. “Who was that sweetest of sweet creatures
Last Sunday in the Rector's seat ?
I never saw such tiny feet !
Poor Arthur,—'twas a sad affair ;
But then she's poorer far than fair ; And so my father and my mother
Agreed it would not do at all ; And so, I'm sorry for my brother !
It's settled that we're not to call. “ And there's an author full of knowledge ;
And there's a captain on half-pay; And there's a baronet from college,
Who keeps a boy and rides a bay ; And sweet Sir Marcus from the Shannon,
Fine specimen of brogue and bone ; And Dr. Calipel, the Canon,
Who weighs, I fancy, twenty stone:
The faded front of Lily Hall :-
We'll make a round, my dear, and call." Alas ! disturb not, maid and matron,
The swallow in my humble thatch;
Your niece may meet a better match :
I never was on Almack's list; And since I seldom rise a winner,
I never like to play at whist; Unknown to me the stocks are falling,
Unwatched by me the glass may fall : Let all the world pursue its calling,
I'm not at home if people call.
TWENTY-EIGHT AND TWENTY-NINE.
And an infant's idle laughter;
And the New came dancing after.
Let Revelry hold her ladle !
Fling roses on the cradle :
Pages to pour the wine:
And a health to Twenty-nine !
Alas for human sorrow!
What else will be our morrow?