By SIR GREGORY PAGE TURNER, BART. M.P.

Lord Warden of Blackheath, and Ranger of Greenwich Hill, during the Christmas and Easter Holidays.

STROPHE.

O day of high career!
First of a month—nay more—first of a year!
A monarch-day, that hath indeed no peer!
Let huge Buzaglos glow
In ev’ry corner of the isle,
To melt away the snow:
And like to May,
Be this month gay;
And with her at hop—step—jump—play,
Dance, grin, and smile:
Ye too, ye Maids of Honour, young and old,
Shall each be seen,
With a neat warming patentiz’d machine!
Because, ’tis said, that chastity is cold!

ANTISTROPHE.

But ah! no roses meet the sight;
No yellow buds of saffron hue,
Nor azure blossoms of pale blue,
Nor tulips, pinks, &c. delight.
Yet on fine tiffany will I
My genius try,
The spoils of Flora to supply,
Or say my name’s not GREGO—RY!
An artificial Garland will I bring,
That Clement Cottrell shall declare,
With courtly air,
Fit for a Prince—fit for a KING!

Epode.

Ye millinery fair,
To me, ye Muses are;
Ye are to me Parnassus MOUNT!
In you, I find an Aganippe FOUNT!
I venerate your muffs,
I bow and kiss your ruffs.
Inspire me, O ye Sisters of the frill,
And teach your votarist how to quill!
For oh!—’tis true indeed,
That he can scarcely read!
Teach him to flounce, and disregard all quippery,
As crapes and blonds, and such like frippery;
Teach him to trim and whip from side to side,
And puff as long as puffing can be try’d.
In crimping metaphor he’ll dash on,
For point, you know, is out of fashion.
O crown with bay his tÊte,
Delpini, arbiter of fate!
Nor at the trite conceit let witlings sport.
A PAGE should be a Dangler at the court.