MR. MOLONY'S ACCOUNT OF THE

BALL

This Gineral great then tuck his sate,

With all the other ginerals,

(Bedad, his troat, his belt, his coat, All bleezed with precious minerals ;)

PENINSULAR AND ORIENTAL COMPANY.

O WILL ye choose to hear the news?
Bedad, I cannot pass it o'er:
I'll tell you all about the Ball

To the Naypaulase Ambassador. Begor! this fete all balls does bate At which I worn a pump, and I Must here relate the splendthor great Of th' Oriental Company.

These men of sinse dispoised expinse,
To fête these black Achilleses.

"We'll show the blacks," says they, "Almack's,

And take the rooms at Willis's.'
With flags and shawls, for these Nepauls,

They hung the rooms of Willis up,
And decked the walls, and stairs, and halls,
With roses and with lilies up.

And Jullien's band it tuck its stand,

So sweetly in the middle there, And soft bassoons played heavenly chunes, And violins did fiddle there. And when the Coort was tired of spoort, I'd lave you, boys, to think there was A nate buffet before them set,

Where lashins of good dhrink there was!

At ten, before the ball-room door

His moighty Excellency was;

He smoiled and bowed to all the crowd-
So gorgeous and immense he was.
His dusky shuit, sublime and mute,
Into the door-way followed him;
And O the noise of the blackguard boys,
As they hurrood and hollowed him!

The noble Chair stud at the stair,

Recloinin on his cushion was, All round about his royal chair

The squeezin and the pushin was.

O Pat, such girls, such Jukes and Earls,
Such fashion and nobilitee!

Just think of Tim, and fancy him
Amidst the hoigh gentility!

439

There was Lord De L'Huys, and the Portygeese

Ministher and his lady there;

And I reckonized, with much surprise,

Our messmate, Bob O'Grady, there;

There was Baroness Brunow, that looked 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 seemed 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.

Did thus evince to that Black Prince

The welcome of his Company.

O fair the girls, and rich the curls,

And bright the oys you saw there, was; And fixed each oye, ye there could spoi, On Gineral Jung Bahawther was!

As beautiful as any there;

And I'd like to hear the pipers blow,
And shake a fut with Fanny there!
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.

TWENTY-EIGHT AND TWENTY-NINE.

I HEARD a sick man's dying sigh,
And an infant's idle laughter:

The Old Year went with mourning by—
The New came dancing after!
Let Sorrow shed her lonely tear-

Let Revelry hold her ladle;
Bring boughs of cypress for the bier-

Fling roses on the cradle;
Mutes to wait on the funeral state,
Pages to pour the wine:
A requiem for Twenty-eight,

And a health to Twenty-nine!

Alas for human happiness!

Alas for human sorrow!
Our yesterday is nothingness-

What else will be our morrow?
Still Beauty must be stealing hearts,
And Knavery stealing purses;
Still cooks must live by making tarts,

And wits by making verses;
While sages prate, and courts debate,

The same stars set and shine;

And the world, as it rolled through Twenty-eight,

Must roll through Twenty-nine.

Some king will come, in heaven's good time,

To the tomb his father came to; Some thief will wade through blood and crime

To a crown he has no claim to; Some suffering land will rend in twain

The manacles that bound her,

And gather the links of the broken chain

To fasten them proudly round her; The grand and great will love and hate, And combat and combine;

And much where we were in Twentyeight,

We shall be in Twenty-nine.

O'Connell will toil to raise the Rent, And Kenyon to sink the Nation; And Shiel will abuse the Parliament, And Peel the Association;

And thought of bayonets and swords
Will make ex-Chancellors merry ;
And jokes will be cut in the House of Lords
And throats in the County of Kerry;
And writers of weight will speculate

On the Cabinet's design;

And just what it did in Twenty-eight
It will do in Twenty-nine.

And the goddess of Love will keep her smiles,

And the god of Cups his orgies;
And there'll be riots in St. Giles,

And weddings in St. George's;
And mendicants will sup like kings,
And lords will swear like lacqueys;
And black eyes oft will lead to rings,

And rings will lead to black eyes;
And pretty Kate will scold her mate,
In a dialect all divine;

Alas! they married in Twenty-eight,

They will part in Twenty-nine.

My uncle will swathe his gouty limbs,
And talk of his oils and blubbers;
My aunt, Miss Dobbs, will play longer
hymns,

And rather longer rubbers;
My cousin in Parliament will prove

How utterly ruined trade is;
My brother, at Eaton, will fall in love
With half a hundred ladies;
My patron will sate his pride from plate,
And his thirst from Bordeaux wine-
His nose was red in Twenty-eight,

'T will be redder in Twenty-nine.

And O! I shall find how, day by day,
All thoughts and things look older-
How the laugh of Pleasure grows less gay,
And the heart of Friendship colder;
But still I shall be what I have been,

Sworn foe to Lady Reason,

And seldom troubled with the spleen,
And fond of talking treason;

I shall buckle my skate, and leap my gate,
And throw and write my line;
And the woman I worshiped in Twenty.
eight

I shall worship in Twenty-nine.

WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED.