« ForrigeFortsett »
Drenching the Skinners' Company to the skin,
Making the crusty Vintner chiller,
And turning the Distiller
Spoiling the bran-new beavers
For company a bit ;
Daubing incorporated Bakers,
And leading the Patten-makers,
O Lud! O Lud! O Lud!
“ This is a sorry sight,” To quote Macbeth — but oh, it grieves me quite, To see your Wives and Daughters in their
White plumes not white —
But angels ever brown and sallow,
For city clouds of black and yellow
And artificial flowers, rose, leaf, and bud,
Such sable lilies
And grim daffodilies Drooping, but not for drought, O Lud! O Lud!
I may as well, while I'm inclined,
Oh Lud! then, with a better air, say June,
When he who comes ne'er dealt in blood ?
That treats him like —
A little French if I may martyr-
O Lud! I say
Do change your day To some time when your Show can really show; When silk can seem like silk, and gold can glow.
Look at your Sweepers, how they shine in
And sparkle in tiara — bracelet — brooch — Diamond —or paste—of sister, mother, daughter;
When grandeur really may be grand —
But if thy Pageant's thus obscured by land O Lud! it's ten times worse upon the water !
Suppose, O Lud, to show its plan,
Now Sister Anne, I call to thee,
Look out and see : Of course about the bridge you view them rally
And sally, With many a wherry, sculler, punt, and cutter ; The Fishmongers' grand boat, but not for butter,
The Goldsmiths' glorious galley,– Of course you see the Lord Mayor's coach aquatic,
With silken banners that the breezes fan,
In gold all glowing,
And men in scarlet rowing,
• “No, I see no such thing!
And, dim as ghosts,
And something, further off,
That’s rather like the shadow of a dog,
And all beyond is fog.
I see no barges row,
No banners blow;
But sister Anne, my dear,
Although you cannot see, you still may hear? Of course you hear, I'm very sure of that,
The “ Water parted from the Sea” in C,
Or “ Where the Bee sucks,” set in B; Or Huntsman's chorus from the Freyschutz
frightful, Or Handel's Water Music in A flat. O music from the water comes delightful !
It sounds as nowhere else it can :
You hear it first
“ There is no breeze to die on; And all their drums and trumpets, flutes and harps, Could never cut their way with ev'n three sharps
Through such a fog as this, you may rely on.
I think, but am not sure, I hear a hum,
As if from Pedley's Soda Water shop.
And, not to mention sneezing,
My cough is, more than usual, teasing ;
[EXTRACTED FROM A WELL-KNOWN ANNUAL.]
O CURIOUS reader, didst thou ne'er
Then cast thy longing eyes this way,