America lends,
    Nay, she gives when she sends
Such treasures as Harry and Daisy; [2]
    Tho’ many may yearn,
    None but Harry can turn
That sweet little head of hers crazy.

    There was much-envied strath [3]
    With the lady who hath [3]
Taught us all what may life be at twenty;
    Of pleasure a taste,
    Of duty no waste,
Of gentle philosophy plenty.

    Kitty Drummond was there—­ [4]
    Where was Lawrence, oh! where?—­
And my Lord and my Lady Granby; [5]
    Is there one of the Gang
    Has not wept at the pang
That he never can violet’s man be?

    From Wilton, whose streams
    Murmur sweet in our dreams,
Come the Earl and his Countess together; [6]
    In her spirit’s proud flights
    We are whirled to the heights,
He sweetens our stay in the nether.

    Dear Evan was there, [7]
    The first choice of the fair,
To all but himself very gentle! 
    And ASHRIDGE’S lord [8]
    Most insufferably bored
With manners and modes Oriental.

    The Shah, I would bet,
    In the East never met
Such a couple as him and his consort. [8]
    If the Horners you add, [9]
    That a man must be mad
Who complains that the Gang is a wrong sort.

    From kindred essay
    lady Mary to-day [10]
Should have beamed on a world that adores her. 
    Of her spouse debonair [10]
    No woman has e’er
Been able to say that he bores her.

    Next BINGY escorts [11]
    His dear wife, to our thoughts [11]
Never lost, though withdrawn from our vision,
    While of late she has shown
    That of spirit alone
Was not fashioned that fair composition.

    No, if humour we count,
    The original fount
Must to Hugo be ceded in freehold,
    Tho’ of equal supplies
    In more subtle disguise
Old Godfrey has far from a wee hold! [12]

    Mrs. Eddy has come [13]
    And we all shall be dumb
When we hear what a lovely voice Emmy’s is;
    Spencer, too, would show what [14]
    He can do, were it not
For that cursed laryngeal Nemesis.

    At no distance away
    Behold Alan display [15]
That smile that is found so upsetting;
    And Edgar in bower, [16]
    In statecraft, in power,
The favourite first in the betting.

    Here a trio we meet,
    Whom you never will beat,
Tho’ wide you may wander and far go;
    From what wonderful art
    Of that Gallant Old Bart,
Sprang Charty and Lucy and Margot?

    To Lucy he gave [17]
    The wiles that enslave,
Heart and tongue of an angel to Charty; [18]
    To Margot the wit [19]
    And the wielding of it,
That make her the joy of a party.