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FROM THE NEW BATH GUIDE.

THE PUBLIC BREAKFAST.

Now my Lord had the honour of coming down

post, To pay his respects to so famous a toast; In hopes he her Ladyship's favour might win, By playing the part of a host at an inn. I'm sure he's a person of great resolution, Though delicate nerves, and a weak constitution ; For he carried us all to a place cross the river, And vow'd that the rooms were too hot for his

liver : He said it would greatly our pleasure promote, If we all for Spring-Gardens set out in a boat : I never as yet could his reason explain, Why we all sallied forth in the wind and the

rain; For sure such confusion was never yet known; Here a cap and a hat, there a cardinal blown: While his Lordship, embroider'd and powder'd

all o'er, Was bowing, and handing the ladies ashore : How the Misses did huddle, and scuddle, and

run : One would think to be wet must be very good

fun; For by waggling their tails, they all seem'd to

take pains To moisten their pinions like ducks when it rains ; And 'twas pretty to see how, like birds of a fea

ther, . The people of quality flock'd all together ;

All pressing, addressing, caressing, and fond, Just the same as those animals are in a pond : You've read all their names in the news, I sup

pose, But, for fear you have not, take the list as it goes :

There was Lady Greasewrister,
And Madam Van-Twister,
Her Ladyship's sister :
Lord Cram, and Lord Vulture,
Sir Brandish O'Culter,
With Marshal Carouzer,

And old Lady Mouzer,
And the great Hanoverian Baron Pansmowzer :
Besides many others, who all in the rain went,
On purpose to honour this great entertainment :
The company made a most brilliant appearance,
And ate bread and butter with great perseverance :
All the chocolate too, that my Lord set before 'em,
The ladies despatch'd with the utmost decorum.
Soft musical numbers were heard all around,
The horns and the clarions echoing sound:
Sweet were the strains, as odorous gales that

blow O'er fragrant banks, where pinks and roses

grow. The Peer was quite ravish'd, while close to his

side Sat Lady Bunbutter, in beautiful pride ! Oft turning his eyes, he with rapture survey'd All the powerful charms she so nobly display'd: As when at the feast of the great Alexander, Timotheus, the musical son of Thersander, Breathed heavenly measures.

O! had I a voice that was stronger than steel, With twice fifty tongues to express what I feel, And as many good mouths, yet I never could

utter All the speeches my Lord made to Lady Bun

butter! So polite all the time, that he ne'er touch'd a bit, While she ate up his rolls and applauded his wit : For they tell me that men of true taste, when

they treat, Should talk a great deal, but they never should

eat: And if that be the fashion, I never will give Any grand entertainment as long as I live : For I'm of opinion 'tis proper to cheer The stomach and bowels as well as the ear. Nor me did the charming concerto of Abel Regale like the breakfast I saw on the table : I freely will own I the muffins preferr'd To all the genteel conversation I heard. E'en though I'd the honour of sitting between My Lady Stuff-damask and Peggy Moreen, Who both flew to Bath in the nightly machine. Cries Peggy, “ This place is enchantingly pretty ; We never can see such a thing in the city : You may spend all your lifetime in Cateaton

street, And never so civil a gentleman meet; You may talk what you please ; you may search

London through: You may go to Carlisle's, and to Almanac's too : And I'll give you my head if you find such a

host, For coffee, tea, chocolate, butter, and toast :

How he welcomes at once all the world and his

wife, And how civil to folk he ne'er saw in his life!"“ These horns,” cries my Lady, “so tickle one's

ear, Lard! what would I give that Sir Simon was

here! To the next public breakfast Sir Simon shall go, For I find here are folks one may venture to

know: Sir Simon would gladly his Lordship attend, And my Lord would be pleased with so cheerful

a friend.” So when we had wasted more bread at a break

fast Than the poor of our parish have ate for this

week past, I saw, all at once, a prodigious great throng Come bustling, and rustling, and jostling along : For his Lordship was pleased that the company

now To my Lady Bunbutter should curtsy and bow : And my Lady was pleased too, and seem'd vastly

proud At once to receive all the thanks of a crowd : And when, like Chaldeans, we all had adored This beautiful image set up by my Lord, Some few insignificant folk went away, Just to follow the employments and calls of the

day; But those who knew better their time how to

spend, The fiddling and dancing all chose to attend.

Miss Clunch and Sir Toby performd a Cotillion, Just the same as our Susan and Bob the pos

tilion ;

All the while her mamma was expressing her joy, That her daughter the morning so well could

employ. -Now, why should the Muse, my dear mother,

relate The misfortunes that fall to the lot of the great ? As homeward we came—'tis with sorrow you'll

hear What a dreadful disaster attended the Peer : For whether some envious god had decreed That a Naiad should long to ennoble her breed ; Or whether his Lordship was charm'd to behold His face in the stream, like Narcissus of old ; In handing old Lady Bumfidget and daughter, This obsequious Lord tumbled into the water; But a nymph of the flood brought him safe to

the boat, And I left all the ladies a-cleaning his coat.

OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

BORN 1728-DIED 1775.

If the best poetry be that which gives the most pleasure

to the greatest number of readers, there are few poetical characters that rank higher than the author of the Deserted Village and the Traveller; and if any thing can

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