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BLUE-STOCKING REVELS; OR,
O Seddon! Gillow! Mr. Morell!
O Taprell and Holland! Minter! Snell!
O ev'ry one else, dear to new married spouses,
Don't speak any more of your fitting up houses;
Don't mention your sèvres, your buhls, or-moulus;
And for ever henceforth have no customers, Hughes:
Quench the light of your lustres, great Perry and Co.:
Ye Bantings, be counted extremely so-so:
Nay, hold your tongue, Robins; amaze us no longer
In paragraphs, "coming it" stronger and stronger:
Cease roaring in great A, and wheedling in small;
And thou, even thou, greatest gusto of all,
Tasteful shade of magnificent, house-warming Guelph,
Turn about in thy tomb, and say, "Laid on the shelf!"
O Taprell and Holland! Minter! Snell!
O ev'ry one else, dear to new married spouses,
Don't speak any more of your fitting up houses;
Don't mention your sèvres, your buhls, or-moulus;
And for ever henceforth have no customers, Hughes:
Quench the light of your lustres, great Perry and Co.:
Ye Bantings, be counted extremely so-so:
Nay, hold your tongue, Robins; amaze us no longer
In paragraphs, "coming it" stronger and stronger:
Cease roaring in great A, and wheedling in small;
And thou, even thou, greatest gusto of all,
Tasteful shade of magnificent, house-warming Guelph,
Turn about in thy tomb, and say, "Laid on the shelf!"
The house not an instant had felt the god's presence,
When something—I know not what—but a quintessence
Of fragrance and purity hallow'd the place,
Some spirit of lilies, and crystal, and grace.
His height he had stoop'd, as he enter'd the door,
Tow'rds the human; but still his own costume he wore,
Or at least a Greek vest; and be sure he wore bay;
In short, was a kind of Apollo d'Orsay.
Then gliding from room to room, like a slow bee,
Half a foot from the floor, his lute went playing he,
And the sound was a magical charm to invest
Whatsoever he look'd on with all he lik'd best.
Nor indeed was it strange that his lute should do this,
When Amphion, you know, built a city with his.
When something—I know not what—but a quintessence
Of fragrance and purity hallow'd the place,
Some spirit of lilies, and crystal, and grace.
His height he had stoop'd, as he enter'd the door,
Tow'rds the human; but still his own costume he wore,
Or at least a Greek vest; and be sure he wore bay;
In short, was a kind of Apollo d'Orsay.
Then gliding from room to room, like a slow bee,
Half a foot from the floor, his lute went playing he,
And the sound was a magical charm to invest
Whatsoever he look'd on with all he lik'd best.
Nor indeed was it strange that his lute should do this,
When Amphion, you know, built a city with his.
Thus the ball-room, whose wainscot was stucco before,
Rose in arches of flowers, midway from the floor,
All dabbled with dew-drops, and stirr'd with a breath;
While the rest (for no cold could give shoulders "their death,"
Rose in arches of flowers, midway from the floor,
All dabbled with dew-drops, and stirr'd with a breath;
While the rest (for no cold could give shoulders "their death,"
