The Fancy A Selection from the Poetical Remains of the late Peter Corcoran, of Gray's Inn, Student at Law. With a brief memoir of his life [by J. H. Reynolds] |
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STANZAS TO KATE,
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 | The Fancy |  |
83
STANZAS TO KATE,
ON APPEARING BEFORE HER AFTER A CASUAL TURN UP.
“------ A black eye in a recent scuffle,
“For sometimes we must box without the muffle.”
Don Juan.
“For sometimes we must box without the muffle.”
Don Juan.
All punish'd and penitent, down on the knee,
I bend to thee, Kate, to avert an adieu:
Oh, let not thine eyes, love, look black upon me,—
Because mine are forc'd to look black upon you.
I bend to thee, Kate, to avert an adieu:
Oh, let not thine eyes, love, look black upon me,—
Because mine are forc'd to look black upon you.
Am I worse in your eyes, for being worse in my own?—
Are the women to punish, as well as the men?—
I thought you'd have brought, when you found me alone,
Opodeldoc and smiles, to restore me again.
Are the women to punish, as well as the men?—
I thought you'd have brought, when you found me alone,
Opodeldoc and smiles, to restore me again.
84
You know I love sparring and poesy, Kate,
And scarcely care whether I'm hit at, or kiss'd;—
You know that Spring equally makes me elate,
With the blow of a flower, and the blow of a fist.
And scarcely care whether I'm hit at, or kiss'd;—
You know that Spring equally makes me elate,
With the blow of a flower, and the blow of a fist.
You know as you walk'd one damp evening of late,
With your beau at your side,—that a bow in the sky
Arch'd its colours ethereal—and surely, my Kate,
This must be the rainbow I had in my eye.
With your beau at your side,—that a bow in the sky
Arch'd its colours ethereal—and surely, my Kate,
This must be the rainbow I had in my eye.
Forgive me,—and never, oh, never again,
I'll cultivate light blue, or brown inebriety;
I'll give up all chance of a fracture or sprain,
And part, worse than all, with Pierce Egan's society.
I'll cultivate light blue, or brown inebriety;
I'll give up all chance of a fracture or sprain,
And part, worse than all, with Pierce Egan's society.
85
Forgive me,—and mufflers I'll carefully pull
O'er my knuckles hereafter, to make them well bred;
To mollify digs in the kidney with wool,
And temper with leather a punch of the head.
O'er my knuckles hereafter, to make them well bred;
To mollify digs in the kidney with wool,
And temper with leather a punch of the head.
And, Kate!—if you'll fib from your forehead that frown,
And spar with a lighter and prettier tone;—
I'll look,—if the swelling should ever go down,
And these eyes look again,—upon you, love, alone!
And spar with a lighter and prettier tone;—
I'll look,—if the swelling should ever go down,
And these eyes look again,—upon you, love, alone!
The author of Boxiana;—a gentleman of considerable talent and unassuming manners. His writings are replete with gaiety, information, and spirit; and there are few authors who have made history the vehicle of so much life and whim as Mr. Egan. He is an intelligent man in conversation, a clever pedestrian, and a pleasant singer. That man is no contemptible caterer of joy in life's feast, who can walk about and collect knowledge, write poetry on what he has seen,—and sing it with a cheerful and good voice to his friends. Mr. Egan deserves this note, and it is devoted to him.
| The Fancy | |