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At ten, before the ball-room door
He smoiled and bow'd to all the crowd-
The noble Chair stud at the stair,
And bade the dhrums to thump; and he Did thus evince to that Black Prince The welcome of his Company. Oh fair the girls, and rich the curls,
And bright the oyes you saw there, was; And fixed each oye, ye there could spoi,
On Gineral Jung Bahawther was!
All bleezed with precious minerals);
The squeezin' and the pushin' was.
O Pat, such girls, such jukes and earls,
Just think of Tim, and fancy him
Amidst the hoigh gentilitee!
There was Lord De L'Huys, and the Porty
Ministher and his lady there;
And I reckonized, with much surprise,
Our messmate, Bob O'Grady, there.
There was Baroness Brunow, that look'd like Juno,
And Baroness Rehausen there, And Countess Roullier, that looked peculiar Well in her robes of gauze, in there. There was Lord Crowhurst (I knew him first When only Mr. Pips he was), And Mick O'Toole, the great big fool, That after supper tipsy was.
There was Lord Fingall and his ladies all, And Lords Killeen and Dufferin,
And Paddy Fife, with his fat wife
I wondther how he could stuff her in. There was Lord Belfast, that by me past, And seem'd to ask how should I go there;
And the widow Macrae, and Lord A. Hay,
And the marchioness of Sligo there.
Yes, jukes and earls, and diamonds and pearls,
And pretty girls, was spoorting there; And some beside (the rogues!) I spied
Behind the windies, coorting there.
And I'd like to hear the pipers blow,
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.
MR. BARNEY MAGUIRE'S ACCOUNT OF THE CORONATION.
ОCH! the Coronation! what celebration For emulation can with it compare? When to Westminster the Royal Spinster, And the Duke of Leinster, all in order
'Twas there you'd see the new Polishemen
Making a skrimmage at half-after four, And the Lords and Ladies, and the Miss O'Gradys,
All standing round before the Abbey door. Their pillows scorning, that self-same morning
.Themselves adorning, all by the candle
With roses and lilies and daffy-down dillies, And gould, and jewels, and rich di'monds
And then approaches five hundred coaches, With Giniral Dullbeak. Och! 'twas
To see how asy bould Corporal Casey, With his sword drawn, prancing, made
them kape the line.
Then the Guns' alarums, and the King of Arums,
All in his Garters and his Clarence shoes, Opening the massy doors to the bould Ambassydors,
The Prince of Potboys and great haythen Jews; "Twould have made you crazy to see Esterhazy
All joo'ls from his jasey to his di'mond boots,
With Alderman Harmer and that swate Like Venus or Hebe, or the Queen of Sheby,
The famale heiress, Miss Anja-ly Coutts.
And Wellington, walking with his swoord
With eight young ladies houlding up her
Sure 'twas grand to see her, also for to he-ar The big drums bating and the trumpets blow,
To Hill and Hardinge, haroes of great And Sir George Smart! oh! he play'd a
And Sir De Lacy and the Duke Dalmasey (They call'd him Sowlt afore he changed his name),
With his four-and-twenty fiddlers all on
Themselves presading Lord Melbourne, Then the Lord Archbishop held a goulden
The Queen, the darling, to her royal chair, And that fine ould fellow, the Duke of Pell
For to resave her bounty and great wealth, Saying, "Plase your Glory, great Queen Vic-tory!
The Queen of Portingal's Chargy-de-fair. Ye'll give the Clargy lave to dhrink your
Then the noble Prussians, likewise the Rus- Then his Riverence, retrating, discoorsed
Then Misthur Spaker, with Misthur Pays Then the Nobles kneeling to the Pow'rs
Then the Queen, Heaven bless her! och! Then the trumpets braying and the organ
But Lord Rolle was rolling;-'twas mighty Some Moscow fancy, incomplete,
To think that his Lordship did not break his bones!
Then the crames and custard, and the beef and mustard,
Yet not indifferently planned;
Note specially the gray old Guard,
All on the tombstones like a poultherer's But, as regards the present war,—
Now, don't you think our pride of pence
shop; With lobsters and white-bait, and other Goes-may I say it?-somewhat far
And wine, and nagus, and Imperial Pop! There was cakes and apples in all the
With fine polonies, and rich mellow
Och! the Count Von Strogonoff, sure he
got prog enough,
The sly ould Divil, undernathe the stairs.
Then the cannons thunder'd, and the people
Crying, "God save Victoria, our Royal |
-Och! if myself should live to be a hun-
Sure it's the proudest day that I'll have seen!
And now I've ended, what I pretended, This narration splendid in swate poethry,
Ye dear bewitcher, just hand the pitcher, Faith, it's myself that's getting mighty dhry!
RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM.
BE seated, pray. "A grave appeal"?
This monstrous mélodrame of Force!
Museums turned to hospitals!
"And worse," you say; "the wide distress!"
Though ranking Paris next to Rome,
That "Charity begins at home.”
Was blind to mere domestic need-
At least these Continental wants
While here with us-Ah! who could hope
With all our shrill necessities?
Attempt comparison of creeds;
So well exalts his pet distress,
The same applies to B's and C's;
At yonder dish, a priceless bit;
There hangs a sketch from Vernet's hand; So, If I only hold you out
An open though an empty hand,
Why, you'll forgive me, I've no doubt.
Nay, do not rise. You seem amused;
Some gushing lady-almoner,-
Good-bye, then. Ah, a rarity! That cost me quite three hundred pounds, That Dürer figure,-"Charity."
A RECIPE FOR A SALAD.
To make this condiment, your poet begs The pounded yellow of two hard-boil'd
Two boil'd potatoes, pass'd through kitchen sieve,
Smoothness and softness to the salad give;
And twice with vinegar procured from town;
But Heaven, that brings out good from evil,
SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.
MY LORD TOMNODDY.
My Lord Tomnoddy's the son of an Earl;
He writes his name with indifferent ease,
My Lord Tomnoddy to college went;
My Lord Tomnoddy came out in the world:
And, lastly, o'er the flavor'd compound 'Tis true, his Lordship is rather wild;
He never drew sword, except on drill;
My Lord Tomnoddy is thirty-four;
THE SIEGE of BELGRADE.
For fame, for fortune fighting,-furious fray!
Generals 'gainst generals grapple - gracious God!
How honors Heaven heroic hardihood!
Infuriate, indiscriminate in ill,
BACHELOR'S HALL! what a quare-lookin' place it is!
Kape me from sich all the days of my life!
Sure, but I think what a burnin' disgrace it is
Niver at all to be gettin' a wife.
See the old bachelor, gloomy and sad enough,
(If he were present) to fight wid the squire.
Then, like a hog in a mortar-bed wallowing, Awkward enough, see him knading his
Troth! if the bread he could ate widout swallowing,
How it would favor his palate, you know!
His dishcloth is missing: the pigs are devouring it;
In the pursuit he has battered his shin;
Kindred kill kinsmen, kinsmen kindred A plate wanted washing: Grimalkin is
Labor low levels longest, loftiest lines;
Men march mid mounds, mid moles, mid
Now noxious, noisy numbers nothing,
Of outward obstacles, opposing ought;
Thunder and turf! what a pickle he's in!
His meal being over, the table's left set
Dishes, take care of yourselves, if you can!
Poor patriots, partly purchased, partly But hunger returns; then he's fuming and