University of Virginia Library


196

THE ROYAL WEDDING.

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(VIDE “THE TIMES,” MARCH 14, 1879.)

I'm a reporter, bound to do
Reporter's duty;
In language beautiful all through
I sing of Beauty.
And he who thinks these words of mine
Something too many,
Let him reflect—for every line
I get a penny.
I sing of how the Red Prince took
His pretty daughter,
To marry her to Connaught's Dook
Across the water.
Oh, bright was Windsor's quaint old town,
Decked out with bravery;
And blessèd Spring had ne'er a frown
Or such-like knavery.

197

The sea of legs before the gate
And round the steeple,—
In short, the marvellously great
Amount of people,—
Instead of treading upon toes
And dresses tearing,
Was (as a royal marriage goes),
I thought, forbearing.
The church-bells rang, the brass bands played,
The place was quite full,
Before the Quality had made
The scene delightful.
They came from Paddington by scores,
'Mid rustics ploughing,
And women huddled at the doors,
And infants bowing.
While condescension on their part
We quite expected,
On ours, as usual, England's heart
Was much affected.
Whene'er we welcome Rank and Worth
From foreign lands, it
Becomes a wonder how on earth
That organ stands it!

198

The Berkshire Volunteers in gray
(Loyd Lindsay, Colonel),
And the bold Rifles hold the way,
With Captain Burnell.
To guard St. George's brilliant nave,
Believe me, no men
Could properly themselves behave
Except the yeomen.
Spring dresses came “like daffodils
Before the swallow,”
On ladies' pretty forms (with bills,
Alas! to follow).
Their beauty “took the winds of March”
(Which in my rhymes is
A theft Shakesperean and arch:
It is the Times's).
Sir Elvey played a solemn air;
I sent a wish up;
Four Bishops came to join the pair,
And one Archbishop.
Nine minor parsons after that
To help them poured in;
One strange-named man among them sate,
The Rev. Tahourdin.

199

But oh! how this “prolific pen”
Of mine must falter,
When I describe the noblemen
Before the altar!
There was the Lady Em'ly King-
scote like a tulip;
The Maharajah Duleep Singh,
And Mrs. Duleep.
The gallant Teck might there be seen
With sword and buckler,
His Mary in a dark sage green,
And Countess Puckler.
Count Schlippenbach, the Ladies Schlie-
fen and De Grunne,
And other names that seem to me
A little funny.
Though from his years the child was warm,
Prince Albert Victor
Looked, in his naval uniform,
A perfect pictur.
The Marchioness of Salisbury
I wondered at in
Reseda velvet draped with my-
osotis satin.

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Dark amethyst on jupes of poult
Wore the Princesses;
And ostrich feathers seemed to moult
From half the dresses.
Real diamonds were as thick as peas,
And sham ones thicker—
Till overcome, your special flees
To ask for liquor!
The show is o'er: by twos and twos
I see them fleeting off,
Lord Beaconsfield, the Daily News,
And Major Vietinghoff.
The happy couple lead the way,
For life embarking;
Then Captain Egerton and La-
dy Adela—Larking.
Louisa Margaret! to thee
Be grief a stranger,
And may thy husband never be
A Connaught Ranger.
If in the blush of mutual hopes,
And fond devotion,
You're honeymooning on the slopes,
I've not a notion.

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But this I feel, that for your true
And honest passion,
All sober folks wish well to you
In manly fashion.
While, for your chroniclers, I know,
Regnante V.R.,
From east to west 'twere hard to show
Such men as we are!