CCXLIV.

The wedding peal, how sweetly it peals
With grass or heather beneath our heels,—­
For bells are Music’s laughter!—­
But a London peal, well mingled, be sure,
With vulgar noises and voices impure,—­
With a harsh and discordant overture
  To the Harmony meant to come after!

CCXLV.

But hence with Discord—­perchance, too soon
To cloud the face of the honeymoon
  With a dismal occultation!—­
Whatever Fate’s concerted trick,
The Countess and Count, at the present nick,
Have a chicken, and not a crow, to pick
  At a sumptuous Cold Collation.

CCXLVI.

A Breakfast—­no unsubstantial mess,
But one in the style of Good Queen Bess,
  Who,—­hearty as hippocampus,—­
Broke her fast with ale and beef,
Instead of toast and the Chinese leaf,
  And—­in lieu of anchovy—­grampus.

CCXLVII.

A breakfast of fowl, and fish, and flesh,
Whatever was sweet, or salt, or fresh;
  With wines the most rare and curious—­
Wines, of the richest flavor and hue;
With fruits from the worlds both Old and New;
And fruits obtain’d before they were due
  At a discount most usurious.

CCXLVIII.

For wealthy palates there be, that scout
What is in season, for what is out,
  And prefer all precocious savor: 
For instance, early green peas, of the sort
That costs some four or five guineas a quart;
  Where the Mint is the principal flavor.

CCXLIX.

And many a wealthy man was there,
Such as the wealthy City could spare,
  To put in a portly appearance—­
Men, whom their fathers had help’d to gild: 
And men, who had had their fortunes to build
And—­much to their credit—­had richly fill’d
  Their purses by pursy-verance.

CCL.

Men, by popular rumor at least,
Not the last to enjoy a feast! 
  And truly they were not idle!

Luckier far than the chestnut tits,
Which, down at the door, stood champing their bits,
  At a different sort of bridle.

CCLI.

For the time was come—­and the whisker’d Count
Help’d his Bride in the carriage to mount,
  And fain would the Muse deny it,
But the crowd, including two butchers in blue,
(The regular killing Whitechapel hue,)
Of her Precious Calf had as ample a view,
  As if they had come to buy it!

CCLII.

Then away! away! with all the speed
That golden spurs can give to the steed,—­
Both Yellow Boys and Guineas, indeed,
  Concurr’d to urge the cattle—­
Away they went, with favors white,
Yellow jackets, and panels bright,
And left the mob, like a mob at night,
  Agape at the sound of a rattle.