 | May Fair |  |
Dan Apollo! fool-enslaver,
When I had your worship's fever,
(But a sort of schoolboy tertian,
Cured by Newmarket immersion,)
I have stood at set of sun,
Cloud-collecting, one by one;
Wild with all their twistings, turnings,
Softenings, sweetenings, fadings, burnings;
Building in each ruddy stain,
Glorious “Chateaux en Espagne;”
Watching the delicious twilight
Peeping from her Eastern skylight;
Like an Andalusian maid
Listening to a serenade:
Like a vestal freshly sainted,
With her cheek half pale, half painted;
Like a Turkish beauty showing
Through her veil the roses glowing;
Till, 'twas but a softer morn,
Silvery rose the Lunar horn.
When I had your worship's fever,
(But a sort of schoolboy tertian,
Cured by Newmarket immersion,)
I have stood at set of sun,
Cloud-collecting, one by one;
Wild with all their twistings, turnings,
Softenings, sweetenings, fadings, burnings;
135
Glorious “Chateaux en Espagne;”
Watching the delicious twilight
Peeping from her Eastern skylight;
Like an Andalusian maid
Listening to a serenade:
Like a vestal freshly sainted,
With her cheek half pale, half painted;
Like a Turkish beauty showing
Through her veil the roses glowing;
Till, 'twas but a softer morn,
Silvery rose the Lunar horn.
| May Fair | |