The Humourous Poetry of the English Language

276
SECOND LETTER.
Well, it ISN'T the King, after all, my dear creature!
But DON'T you go laugh, now--there's nothing to quiz in 't--
For grandeur of air and for grimness of feature,
He MIGHT be a King, Doll, though, hang him, he isn't.
At first I felt hurt, for I wish'd it, I own,
If for no other cause than to vex MISS MALONE--
(The great heiress, you know, of Shandangan, who's here,
Showing off with SUCH airs and a real Cashmere,
While mine's but a paltry old rabbit-skin, dear!)
But says Pa, after deeply considering the thing,
"I am just as well pleased it should NOT be the King;
As I think for my BIDDY, so gentilie jolie,
Whose charms may their price in an HONEST way fetch,
That a Brandenburg--(what IS a Brandenburg, DOLLY?)--
Would be, after all, no such very great catch,
If the R--G--T, indeed--" added he, looking sly--
(You remember that comical squint of his eye)
But I stopp'd him--"La, Pa, how CAN you say so,
When the R--G--T loves none but old women, you know!"
Which is fact, my dear Dolly--we, girls of eighteen,
And so slim--Lord, he'd think us not fit to be seen;
And would like us much better as old--ay, as old
As that Countess of Desmond, of whom I've been told
That she lived to much more than a hundred and ten,
And was kill'd by a fall from a cherry-tree then!
What a frisky old girl! but--to come to my lover,
Who, though not a king, is a HERO I'll swear--
You shall hear all that's happen'd just briefly run over,
Since that happy night, when we whisk'd through the air!
Let me see--'t was on Saturday--yes, Dolly, yes--
From that evening I date the first dawn of my bliss;
When we both rattled off in that dear little carriage,
Whose journey, Bob says, is so like love and marriage,
"Beginning gay, desperate, clashing down-hilly;
And ending as dull as a six-inside Dilly!"
Well, scarcely a wink did I sleep the night through,
And, next day, having scribbled my letter to you,
With a heart full of hope this sweet fellow to meet,