448 Marriage a la Mode. 



He met her first at some prodigious rout, 



Where all the world was voting- it a bore ; 

 She was a beauty, having just come out 



That is, she had rehearsed her part before, 

 And now performed it, with great skill no doubt. 



She knew her points, and that the dress she wore 

 Set off her figure ; thanks to prints and pins, 

 Padding conceals a multitude of sins ! 



Ball followed ball ; they often danced together, 

 And though they said but little to each other, 



Talking of novels, music, and the weather, 

 And such ball-themes, he called upon her mother 



Who heard him make proposals in " high feather," 

 And introduced him to her son, his brother 



That was to be and all were quite elate ; 



For he'd a title and a good estate ! 



The fair betrothed then sought thy street, Long Acre, 

 To choose the shape and colour of her carriage : 



I know not why, but somehow a coachmaker 

 Appears to me, in my loose view of marriage, 



A kind of matrimonial undertaker. 

 By this I've no intention to disparage 



That blessed state, which many a damsel enters 



Not knowing why our mothers are such Mentors. 



The day was fixed, the dejeune was spread, 



While bride's-maids simpered in their Brussels lace ; 



The bride shed tears at first, then bowed her head, 

 And thought how great a change would soon take place 



(From a small French to a large four-post bed) ; 

 Though none might read her thoughts upon her face. 



Indeed her feelings were not quite intelligible ; 



One thing she felt her husband was quite " eligible !" 



The marriage-service soon was blundered o'er; 



Congratulations round the room were pealing ; 

 The travelling-chariot waited at the door 



But first the bride must do a " bit of feeling ;" 

 And so she gently sank upon the floor, 



In a position such as players deal in : 

 A graceful attitude for loveliness, 

 And so contrived, as not to spoil her dress ! 



At length they started, he and his fair prize 



A Prize ! she proved a Blank. Sad, stern reality 



Makes happiest things seem hideous : they grew wise 

 He cured of love, and she of her morality. 



So, throwing off the troublesome disguise, 

 She ran away like other folks of quality ; 



Leaving her lord (she left him not a jewel) 



A drive to Doctors'-Commons and a duel ! M. L. M. 



