LV.

But they were young: Oh! what without our youth Would love be! What would youth be without

love!

Youth lends it joy, and sweetness, vigour, truth, Heart, soul, and all that seems as from above; But, languishing with years, it grows uncouthOne of few things experience don't improve, Which is, perhaps, the reason why old fellows Are always so preposterously jealous.

LVI.

It was the Carnival, as I have said

Some six and thirty stanzas back, and so

Laura the usual preparations made,

Which you do when your mind's made up to go

To-night to Mrs. Boehm's masquerade,

Spectator, or partaker in the show;

The only difference known between the cases
Is-here, we have six weeks of ,,varnish'd faces."

LVII.

Laura; when drest, was (as I sang before)
A pretty woman as was ever seen,
Fresh as the Angel o'er a new inn door,
Or frontispiece of a new Magazine,

With all the fashions which the last month wore,
Colour'd, and silver paper leaved between

That and the title-page, for fear the press Should soil with parts of speech the parts of dress.

LVIII.

They went to the Ridotto;-'tis a hall
Where people dance, and sup, and dance again;
Its proper name, perhaps, were a masqued ball,
But that's of no importance to my strain;
"Tis (on a smaller scale) like our Vauxhall,
Excepting that it can't be spoilt by rain:
The company is ,,mix'd" (the phrase I quote is,
As much as saying, they're below your notice);

LIX.

For a,,mixt company" implies that, save Yourself and friends, and half a hundred more, Whom you may bow to without looking grave,

The rest are but a vulgar set, the bore Of public places, where they basely brave The fashionable starc of twenty score

Of well-bred persons, call'd,,the World; " but I, Although I know them, really don't know why.

LX.

This is the case in England; at least was
During the dynasty of Dandies, now
Perchance succeeded by some other class
Of imitated imitators :-how
Irreparably soon decline, alas!

The demagogues of fashion: all below
Is frail; how easily the world is lost

By love, or war, and now and then by frost!

LXI.

Crush'd was Napoleon by the northern Thor, Who knock'd his army down with icy hammer, Stopp'd by the elements, like a whaler, or

A blundering novice in his new French grammar; Good cause had he to doubt the chance of war, And as for Fortune-but I dare not d-n her, Because, were I to ponder to infinity, The more I should believe in her divinity.

LXII.

She rules the present, past, and all to be yet, She gives us luck in lotteries, love, and marriage; I cannot say that she's done much for me yet; Not that I mean her bounties to disparage, We've not yet closed accounts, and we shall see yet

How much she'll make amends for past miscarriage; Meantime the goddess I'll no more importune, Unless to thank her when she's made my fortune.

LXIII.

To turn, and to return ;-the devil take it! This story slips for ever through my fingers, Because, just as the stanza likes to make it,

It needs must be-and so it rather lingers; This form of verse began, I can't well break it, But must keep time and tune like public singers; But if I once get through my present measure, I'll take another when I'm next at leisure.

LXIV.

They went to the Ridotto ('tis a place
To which I mean to go myself to-morrow,
Just to divert my thoughts a little space,
'Because I'm rather hippish, and may borrow
Some spirits, guessing at what kind of face

May lurk beneath each mask, and as my sorrow Slackens its pace sometimes, I'll make, or find, Something shall leave it half an hour behind.)