COME to our fete, and bring with thee Thy newest, best embroidery! Come to our fete, and show again That pea-green coat, thou pink of men! Which charm'd all eyes, that last survey'd it; When B -- l's self inquired "who made it?" -- When cits came wondering, from the East, And thought thee Poet Pye @3at least!@1 Oh! come -- (if haply 'tis thy week For looking pale) -- with paly cheek; Though more we love thy roseate days, When the rich rouge-pot pours its blaze Full o'er thy face, and, amply spread, Tips e'en thy whisker-tops with red -- Like the last tints of dying day That o'er some darkling grove delay! Bring thy best lace, thou gay Philander! (That lace, like H -- rry Al -- x -- nd -- r, Too precious to be wash'd!) --thy rings, Thy seals -- in short, thy prettiest things! Put all thy wardrobe's glories on, And yield, in frogs and fringe, to none But the great R -- g -- t's self alone! Who -- by particular desire -- @3For that night only@1, means to hire A dress from Romeo C -- tes, Esquire -- Something between ('twere sin to hack it) The Romeo robe and Hobby jacket! Hail, first of actors! best of R -- g -- ts! Born for each other's fond allegiance! @3Both@1 gay Lotharios -- @3both@1 good dressers -- Of Serious Farce @3both@1 learn'd Professors -- @3Both@1 circled round, for use or show, With cock's-combs, wheresoe'er they go! Thou know'st the time, thou man of lore! It takes to chalk a ball-room floor -- Thou know'st the time too, well-a-day! It takes to dance that chalk away. The ball-room opens -- far and nigh Comets and suns beneath us lie; O'er snowy moons and stars we walk, And the floor seems a sky of chalk! But soon shall fade the bright deceit, When many a maid, with busy feet That sparkle in the lustre's ray, O'er the white path shall bound and play Like nymphs along the Milky Way! -- At every step a star is fled, And suns grow dim beneath their tread! So passeth life -- (thus Sc -- tt would write, And spinsters read him with delight) -- Hours are not feet, yet hours trip on, Time is not chalk, yet time's soon gone! But, hang this long digressive flight! I meant to say, thou'lt see, that night, What falsehood rankles in their hearts, Who say the P -- e neglects the arts -- Neglects the arts! -- no St -- g! no; @3Thy@1 Cupids answer " 'tis not so:" And every floor, that night, shall tell How quick thou daubest, and how well! Shine as thou may'st in French vermillion. Thou'rt @3best@1 -- beneath a French cotillion; And still com'st off, whate'er thy faults, With @3flying colours@1 in a waltz! Nor need'st thou mourn the transient date To thy best works assign'd by fate -- While @3some@1 chef-d' oeuvres live to weary one, @3Thine@1 boast a short life and a merry one; Their hour of glory past and gone With "Molly, put the kettle on!" But, bless my soul! I've scarce a leaf Of paper left -- so, must be brief. This festive fete, in fact, will be The former fete's @3fac-simile@1; The same long masquerade of rooms, Trick'd in such different, quaint costumes, (These, P -- rt -- r, are thy glorious works!) You'd swear Egyptians, Moors, and Turks, Bearing good taste some deadly malice Had clubb'd to raise a pic-nic palace; And each, to make the oglio pleasant, Had sent a state-room as a present! -- The same @3fauteuils@1 and girandoles -- The same gold asses, pretty souls! That, in this rich and classic dome, Appear so perfectly at home! The same bright river 'mongst the dishes, But @3not@1 -- ah! not the same dear fishes -- Late hours and claret kill'd the old ones! -- So, 'stead of silver and of gold ones (It being rather hard to raise Fish of that @3specie@1 now-a-days), Some Sprats have been, by Y -- rm -- th's wish, Promoted into @3Silver@1 Fish, And Gudgeons (so V -- ns -- tt -- t told The R -- g -- t) are as good as @3Gold!@1 So, prythee, come -- our fete will be But half a fete, if wanting thee! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SYMPATHETIC PORTRAIT OF A CHILD by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE CRY OF THE CHILDREN by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING ROBIN REDBREAST by GEORGE WASHINGTON DOANE WHEN THERE IS PEACE by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON THE TRIUMPHS OF OWEN: A FRAGMENT by THOMAS GRAY TWILIGHT by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE I DO NOT LOVE THEE by CAROLINE ELIZABETH SARAH SHERIDAN NORTON |