The Humourous Poetry of the English Language

283
This letter, however, dear DOLLY, shall lie
Unseal'd in my drawer, that if any thing pleasing
Occurs while I'm out, I may tell you--Good-by.
B. F.
Four o'clock.
Oh, DOLLY, dear DOLLY, I'm ruin'd forever--
I ne'er shall be happy again, DOLLY, never;
To think of the wretch!--what a victim was _I_!
'Tis too much to endure--I shall die, I shall die!
My brain's in a fever--my pulses beat quick--
I shall die, or, at least, be exceedingly sick!
Oh what do you think? after all my romancing,
My visions of glory, my sighing, my glancing,
This Colonel--I scarce can commit it to paper--
This Colonel's no more than a vile linen-draper!!
'Tis true as I live--I had coax'd brother BOB so
(You'll hardly make out what I'm writing, I sob so),
For some little gift on my birth-day--September
The thirtieth, dear, I'm eighteen, you remember--
That BOB to a shop kindly order'd the coach
(Ah, little thought I who the shopman would prove),
To bespeak me a few of those mouchoirs de poche,
Which, in happier hours, I have sighed for, my love--
(The most beautiful things--two Napoleons the price--
And one's name in the corner embroidered so nice!)
Well, with heart full of pleasure, I enter'd the shop,
But--ye gods, what a phantom!--I thought I should drop--
There he stood, my dear DOLLY--no room for a doubt--
There, behind the vile counter, these eyes saw him stand,
With a piece of French cambric before him roll'd out,
And that horrid yard-measure upraised in his hand!
Oh--Papa all along knew the secret, 'tis clear--
'T was a SHOPMAN he meant by a "Brandenburg," dear!
The man, whom I fondly had fancied a King,
And when THAT too delightful illusion was past,
As a hero had worship'd--vile treacherous thing--
To turn out but a low linen-draper at last!
My head swam round--the wretch smil'd, I believe,
But his smiling, alas! could no longer deceive--
I fell back on BOB--my whole heart seem'd to wither,