XXXIX. "Tis true, your budding Miss is very charming, All Giggle, Blush ;-half Pertness, and half Pout; And glancing at Mamma, for fear there's harm in What you, she, it, or they, may be about, The Nursery still lisps out in all they utter- XL. But "Cavalier Servente" is the phrase XLI. With all its sinful doings, I must say, That Italy's a pleasant place to me, Who love to see the Sun shine every day, And vines (not nail'd to walls) from tree to tree Festoon'd, much like the back scene of a play, Or melodrame, which people flock to see, When the first act is ended by a dance In vineyards copied from the south of France. XLII. I like on Autumn evenings to ride out, Where the green alleys windingly allure, XLIII. I also like to dine on becaficas, To see the Sun set, sure he'll rise to-morrow, Not through a misty morning twinkling weak as A drunken man's dead eye in maudlin sorrow, But with all Heaven t' himself; that day will break as Beauteous as cloudless, nor be forced to borrow That sort of farthing candle light which glimmers Where reeking London's smoky caldron simmers. XLIV. I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, That not a single accent seems uncouth, Like our harsh northern whistling, grunting guttural, Which we're obliged to hiss, and spit, and sputter all. XLV. I like the women too (forgive my folly,) From the rich peasant-cheek of ruddy bronze, And large black eyes that flash on you a volley Of rays that say a thousand things at once, To the high dama's brow, more melancholy, But clear, and with a wild and liquid glance, Heart on her lips, and soul within her eyes, Soft as her clime, and sunny as her skies. XLVI. Eve of the land which still is Paradise! * NOTE. (In talking thus, the writer, more especially Appear to have offended in this lay, Since, as all know, without the sex, our sonnets Would seem unfinish'd like their untrimm'd bonnets.) XLVII. "England! with all thy faults I love thee still," I said at Calais, and have not forgot it; I like to speak and lucubrate my fill; I like the government (but that is not it ;) I like the freedom of the press and quill; I like the Habeas Corpus (when we've got it ;) I like a parliamentary debate, Particularly when 'tis not too late; XLVIII. I like the taxes, when they're not too many; XLIX. Our standing army, and disbanded seamen, L. But to my tale of Laura,-for I find And, therefore, may the reader too displease-- .LI. Oh that I had the art of easy writing What should be easy reading! could I scale Parnassus, where the Muses sit inditing Those pretty poems never known to fail, How quickly would I print (the world delighting) A Grecian, Syrian, or Assyrian tale; And sell you, mix'd with western sentimentalism, Some samples of the finest Orientalism. LII. But I am but a nameless sort of person, And when I can't find that, I put a worse on, Not caring as I ought for critics' cavils; I've a mind to tumble down to prose, ore in fashion-so here goes. |