The Maiden’s-blush Rose—and
she seem’d all dismay’d,
Array’d in her white
Lady’s-smock,
She call’d Mignonette—but
the sly little jade,
That instant was hearing a sweet serenade
From the lips of a tall Hollyhock.
The Pheasant’s eye, always
a mischievous wight,
For prying out something not
good,
Avow’d that he peep’d through
the keyhole that night;
And clearly discern’d, by a glow-worm’s
pale light,
Their Two-faces-under-a-hood.
Old Dowager Peony, deaf as a door,
Who wish’d to know more
of the facts,
Invited Dame Mustard and Miss Hellebore,
With Miss Periwinkle, and many
friends more,
One evening to tea and to
tracts.
The Butter-cups ranged, defamation
ran high,
While every tongue join’d
the debate;
Miss Sensitive said, ’twixt
a groan and a sigh,
Though she felt much concern’d—yet
she thought her dear Vi—
Had grown rather bulbous of
late.
Thus the tale spread about through the
busy parterre:
Miss Columbine turn’d
up her nose,
And the prude Lady Lavender said,
with a stare,
That her friend, Mary-gold, had
been heard to declare,
The creature had toy’d
with the Rose.
Each Sage look’d severe,
and each Cocks-comb look’d gay,
When Daffy to make
their mind easy,
Miss Violet married one morning
in May,
And, as sure as you live, before next
Lady-day,
She brought him a Michaelmas-daisy.
* * * * *
NOTHING WONDERFUL.
The Duke of Normandie accounts for the non-explosion of his percussion-shells, by the fact of having incautiously used some of M’Culloch’s pamphlets on the corn laws. If this be the case, no person can be surprised at their not going off.
* * * * *
MODERN WAT TYLERS.
The anxiety of the Whigs to repeal the timber duties is quite pardonable, for, with their wooden heads, they doubtlessly look upon it in the light of a poll-tax.
* * * * *
[Illustration: Head of a Botecudo previous to disfigurement.]
[Illustration: Head of a Butecudo disfigured by chin and ear pendants.]
[Illustration: Head of a Botecudo disfigured by civilisation.]