University of Virginia Library

AIR by Mr. PARSONS.

I

This is a Petit-maitre's day—
Awake at noon,
Or scarce so soon,
See him to his sofa creep,
Sipping his tea—half-asleep—
Curse the vapours!
Reach the papers—
What's the opera?—Dem the play.

17

II

Air my boots, I think I'll ride—
Tho' rot it, no!
It shakes one so—
Let them bring the vis-a-vis:
Lounging there, his Lordship see,
With vacant air,
And sullen stare,
Born of dullness, rais'd by pride!

III

Stop at Betty's!—What's the news?—
A battle they say—
Have you pines to-day?—
Yes, my Lord—We've beat the Dutch.
Ha—some ice—I thought as much:
What, and nothing more?
That's a monstrous bore!—
Well, drive to Issachar the Jews.

IV

Last at Brookes's—deep at play;
Issachar's debt,
At Faro set,
Win or lose, serenely sad,
Calm he sits, nor vex'd, nor glad;
'Till half alive,
He cuts at five—
This is a Petit-maitre's day.