Lo! dandies from Kamschatka flirt
    With beauties from the Wrekin—­
  And belles from Berne look very pert
    On Mandarins from Pekin;
  The Cardinal is here from Rome,
    The Commandant from Seville—­
  And Hamlet’s father from the tomb,
    And Faustus from the Devil.

  What mean those laughing Nuns, I pray,
    What mean they, Nun or Fairy: 
  I guess they told no beads to-day,
    And sang no Ave Mary. 
  From Mass and Matins, Priest and Pix,
    Barred door, and window grated,
  I wish all pretty Catholics
    Were thus emancipated.

  Four Seasons come to dance quadrilles,
    With four well-seasoned sailors—­
  And Raleigh talks of rail-road bills,
    With Timon, prince of railers. 
  I find Sir Charles of Aubyn Park
    Equipp’d for a walk to Mecca—­
  And I run away from Joan of Arc,
    To romp with sad Rebecca.

  Fair Cleopatra’s very plain,
    Puck halts, and Ariel swaggers—­
  And Caesar’s murder’d o’er again,
    Though not by Roman daggers. 
  Great Charlemagne is four feet high—­
    Sad Stuff has Bacon spoken—­
  Queen Mary’s waist is all awry,
    And Psyche’s nose is broken.

  Our happiest bride, how very odd! 
    Is the mourning Isabella,
  And the heaviest foot that ever trod
    Is the foot of Cinderella. 
  Here sad Calista laughs outright,
    There Yorick looks most grave, Sir,
  And a Templar waves the cross to-night,
    Who never cross’d the wave, Sir.

  And what a Babel is the talk! 
    “The Giraffe”—­“plays the fiddle”—­
  “Macadam’s roads”—­“I hate this chalk”—­
    “Sweet girl”—­“a charming riddle”—­
  “I’m nearly drunk with”—­“Epsom salts”—­
    “Yes, separate beds”—­“such cronies!”—­
  “Good heaven! who taught that man to valtz?”—­
    “A pair of Shetland ponies.”

  “Lord D——­” “an enchanting shape”—­
    “Will move for”—­“Maraschino”
  “Pray, Julia, how’s your mother’s ape?”—­
    “He died at Navarino!”
  “The gout, by Jove, is”—­“apple pie”—­
    “Don Miguel”—­“Tom the tinker”—­
  “His Lordship’s pedigree’s as high
    As ——­” “Whipcord, dam by Clinker.”

  “Love’s shafts are weak”—­“my chestnut kicks”—­
    “Heart broken;”—­“broke the traces”—­
  “What say you now of politics?”—­
    “Change sides and to your places”—­
  “A five-barred gate”—­“a precious pearl”
    “Grave things may all be punn’d on!”—­
  “The Whigs, thank God, are”—­“out of curl!”—­
    “Her age is”—­“four by London!”

  Thus run the giddy hours away,
    Till morning’s light is beaming,
  And we must go to dream by day
    All we to-night are dreaming;
  To smile and sigh, to love and change—­
    Oh! in our heart’s recesses,
  We dress in fancies quite as strange
    As these our fancy-dresses.