The ladies and gentlemen of Penzance returned to an elegant dinner which they had ordered to be prepared at the Union Hotel; and a splendid ball concluded the entertainment of the evening. The jolly god presided,--but a reproving smile from Venus restrained him, if he ventured beyond the due bounds of decorum. Hilarity and beauty danced to the most delicious notes of harmony; till the rosy finger of Aurora pointed to the hour at which the quinquennial festivities should close. Perhaps to many the visions of the night brought back the joys of the day, and the feet danced, the heart throbbed, and the cheek glowed, when the eye-lids were closed in sleep. A SONG, Written by one of the Head Poets of London for Mr. KNILL'S GAMES at Saint Ives. (To the tune of "_Boys and Girls come out to play_.") _Sung at the Mausoleum, by a Minstrel adorned with Ribbons._ Knill commands, and all obey, Lads and Lasses haste away, Aunts and Uncles,[142] Maids and Wives, All are gay, at gay St. Ives. No tongue is mute or foot is still, But One and All[143] are on the hill, In chorus round the tomb of Knill. This you surely may rely on, Paul, Penzance, nor Marazion, Never saw in all their lives Such sport as now is at St. Ives. No tongue, &c. Some in gigs and coaches flocking, Some without or shirt or stocking, All are crowding--not a hack But has three upon his back. No tongue, &c. Of Virgins pure--(let envy squint, And malice sneer, there's nothing in't) Of Virgins pure a throng advance, And round the tomb in circles dance. No tongue, &c. Boys on gingerbread are feeding, Cudgel-broken pates are bleeding; Races running, Wrestlers falling, Bones are cracking, women squalling. No tongue, &c. Thro' the breaking wave below, Rowers urge the bounding prow; While many a Tub and many a Ray[144] Sport around in finny play. No tongue, &c. All are running--what's the matter? Why, to see the fine Regatta. Earth and water, hill and bay, Share the frolic of the day. No tongue, &c. Oh! it glads the heart to see e'm Gamble round the Mausoleum. All is joy: and laughter shakes All the merry land of Hakes.[145] No tongue, &c. What a pother! what a deal is Talk'd about the games at Elis: Such as they--no not a million Equal what we call the Knillian. No tongue, &c. Knill commands, and all obey, Lads and lasses haste away, All the world and all his wives. What was Greece to gay St. Ives!! No tongue is mute, no foot is still, But _One and All_ are on the hill In chorus round the tomb of Knill. _An appropriate Chorus to be sung round the Tomb by the Virgins._