20 Oh fly with me! and we will wing The envious mermaid, when we pass, 25 Oh fly with me! and we will dwell Oh fly with me! by these sweet strings 35 By all the rocks, and vales, and springs Leaving all her banquet cold, and her gob- 25 I've often been out upon Haldon let dry. To look for a covey with Pup; 35 And I'll wear what you brought me from Florence, 40 Perhaps, if you'll come to our Ball. You'll find us all changed since you van- We've set up a National School;1 Miss Hyacinth threatens a rout;2 50 And I'll tell you the rest at the Ball. You'll meet all your beauties;-the Lily, At Dawlish, by taking your arm; Miss Manners, who always abused you, For talking so much about Hock;3 55 And her sister, who often amused you, 60 65 70 By raving of rebels and Rock;1 And something which surely would answer, An heiress quite fresh from Bengal:So, though you were seldom a dancer, You'll dance, just for once, at our Ball. But out on the world!-from the flowers That ever you danced at our Ball. 1 A school established by a national society for educating the poor. A large evening party or other fashionable gathering. Hochheimer, a kind of wine. A fictitious name signed to public notices by one of the Irish rebels of 1822. Dark was her hair, her hand was white; Her voice was exquisitely tender; You once could be pleased with our ballads Today you have critical ears; 75 You once could be charmed with our salads 80 Alas! you've been dining with Peers; You trifled and flirted with many; You've forgotten the when and the how; Perhaps you've forgotten her now. As some you will find at our Ball. 85 They tell me you've many who flatter, 90 Because of your wit and your song; They tell me (and what does it matter?) You like to be praised by the throng; They tell me you're shadowed with laurel, They tell me you're loved by a Blue;1 They tell me you're sadly immoral Dear Clarence, that cannot be true! But to me you are still what I found you Before you grew clever and tall; 95 And you'll think of the spell that once bound you; And you'll come, WON'T you come? to our Ball? From EVERY-DAY CHARACTERS 1829-30 THE BELLE OF THE BALL-ROOM Il faut juger des femmes depuis la chaussure jusqu'à la coiffure exclusivement, à peu près comme on mesure le poisson entre queue et tête.-LA BRUYÈRE. Years-years ago,-ere yet my dreams Had been of being wise or witty,Ere I had done with writing themes, Or yawned o'er this infernal Chitty;5 Years-years ago,-while all my joy Was in my fowling-piece and filly,In short, while I was yet a boy, 10 I fell in love with Laura Lily. I saw her at the County Ball: Of hands across and down the middle, Of all that set young hearts romancing; 15 She was our queen, our rose, our star; And then she danced-O Heaven, her dancing! 2A "blue stocking," a woman affecting an interest in literature and politics. See Byron's Dor Juan, I, 206, 3, and n. 1 (p. 585). One ought to Judge women exclusive of their foot-wear and their head-wear, approximately as one measures fish between tail and head. 20 Her eyes were full of liquid light; Shot right and left a score of arrows; 25 She talked,-of politics or prayers,― Of Southey's prose or Wordsworth's sonnets, 30 Of danglers-or of dancing bears, To me it mattered not a tittle; Through sunny May, through sultry June, 35 I spoke her praises to the moon, 40 45 50 I wrote them to The Sunday Journal: Rich, fat, and rather apoplectic; And Lord Lieutenant of the County. But titles, and the three per cents, And mortgages, and great relations, And India bonds, and tithes3 and rents, Oh, what are they to love's sensations? Black eyes, fair forehead, clustering locksSuch wealth, such honors, Cupid chooses; 55 He cares as little for the Stocks, As Baron Rothschild for the Muses. She sketched; the vale, the wood, the beach, 60 Young blossom in her boudoir fading: She made the Catalani jealous: For hours and hours to blow the bellows. 1 Sparrows were sacred to Venus. Government bonds yielding three per cent interest. A tithe is a tenth part of the yearly income paid for the support of the clergy and the church. His stories and jests are delightful;- The stories not always quite true. May do pretty well at Lausanne; 25 He sneers,-how my Alice would scold him! At the bliss of a sigh or a tear; 1 with us 30 He laughed-only think!-when I told him I vow I was quite in a passion; I broke all the sticks of my fan; Lady Bab, who is terribly moral, Has told me that Tully is vain, 35 And apt-which is silly-to quarrel, 40 |