![]() | May Fair | ![]() |
Ye endless vineyards, for whose table
Wear ye all hues from white to sable?
Ye mighty orangeries, for whom,
Like ladies, lay ye on your bloom?
Ye groves of peach and plum, ye pineries,
For whom are worn your birth-day fineries?
Whose hand Patrician dares to cull ye?
Answer, ye perfumed breezes—Gulley!
Gaming! what charm of lip or eye
Can with thy thousand beauties vie?
From woman's glance, what living flash
Rivals the radiance of the cash?
Though woman's tongue in silver flows,
Yet gold's the music of rouleaux.
Thou, that giv'st all the virtues scope,
The Hope, that to the last will hope;
The more than soldier's boasted Courage,
That goes to ruin without demurrage;
The Love, that makes our neighbour's pelf
As dear to all, as to himself;
The Loyalty that, live or die,
Still keeps the Sovereign in its eye.
Wear ye all hues from white to sable?
Ye mighty orangeries, for whom,
Like ladies, lay ye on your bloom?
Ye groves of peach and plum, ye pineries,
For whom are worn your birth-day fineries?
Whose hand Patrician dares to cull ye?
Answer, ye perfumed breezes—Gulley!
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Can with thy thousand beauties vie?
From woman's glance, what living flash
Rivals the radiance of the cash?
Though woman's tongue in silver flows,
Yet gold's the music of rouleaux.
Thou, that giv'st all the virtues scope,
The Hope, that to the last will hope;
The more than soldier's boasted Courage,
That goes to ruin without demurrage;
The Love, that makes our neighbour's pelf
As dear to all, as to himself;
The Loyalty that, live or die,
Still keeps the Sovereign in its eye.
![]() | May Fair | ![]() |