« AnteriorContinuar »
But what with my Nivernois hat can compare,
He goes to the ball. After two or three pages of rhapsodies :
But hark! now they strike the melodious string,
I must find room for some scraps of a public breakfast. Simkin invokes the desire of popularity : 'Twas you
Lord Ragamuffin come here, Who they say has been lately created a peer, And to-day with extreme complaisance and respect asked All the people at Bath to a general breakfast.
You've heard of my Lady Bunbutter, no doubt,
lord had the honour of coming down post To pay
his respects to so famous a toast; In hopes he her ladyship's favour might win, By playing the part of a host at an inn. He said it would greatly our pleasure promote If we all for Spring Gardens set out in a boat; Though I never as yet could his reason explain Why we all sallied forth in the wind and the rain. For sure such confusion was never yet known, Here a cap and a hat, there a cardinal blown; While his lordship embroidered and powdered all o’er Was bowing and handing the ladies ashore. How the misses did huddle and scuddle and run, One would think to be wet must be very good fun; For by waggling their gown-tails they seemed to take pains To moisten their pinions like ducks when it rains ;
And 'twas pretty to see, how like birds of a feather
suppose, But for fear you have not take the list as it goes :
There was Lady Greasewrister,
And old Lady Drouser,
Now why should the Muse, my dear mother, relate
A worse disaster than that which befel Lord Ragamuffin is in store for our good-humoured letter-writer. His friend, Captain Cormorant, who by the way turns out to be no captain at all, and who had undertaken, amongst other fashionable accomplishments, to initiate him in the mysteries of lansquenet, cheats him out of seven hundred pounds ; so that Miss Jenny loses her lover and her cousin his money at one stroke. Prudence and Tabitha also come in for their share of misadventures ; and the whole party return, crestfallen and discomfited, to the good old Lady Blunderhead and their Yorkshire Manor House.
JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER_FITZ-GREENE HALLECK.
I DID a great injustice the other day when I said that the Americans had at last a great poet. I should have remembered that poets, like sorrows :
“Come not single spies But in battalions."
There is commonly a flight of those singingbirds, as we had ourselves at the beginning of the present century; and besides Professor Longfellow, Bryant, Willis, Lowell and Poe do the highest honour to America.
The person, however, whom I should have most injured myself in forgetting, for my injustice could not damage a reputation such as his, was John G.