"A thousand feet rustled on mats, A carpet that once had been green; Men bow'd with their outlandish hats, With corners so fearfully keen! Fair maids who at home in their haste Had left all clothing else but a train Swept the floor clean as slowly they paced, And then walk'd round and swept it again. "The music was truly enchanting! Right glad was I when I came near it; But in fashion I found I was wanting, 'Twas the fashion to walk and not hear it! A fine youth, as beauty beset him, Look'd smilingly round on the train; 'The King's nephew!' they cried, as they met him, Then we went round and met him again. "Huge paintings of heroes and Peace Seem'd to smile at the sound of the fiddle, Proud to fill up each tall shining space Round the lantern that stood in the middle. And George's head, too--Heaven screen him! May he finish in peace his long reign; And what did we when we had seen him? Why, went round and saw him again. "A bell rang announcing new pleasures, A crowd in an instant pressed hard; Feathers nodded, perfumes shed their treasures, Round a door that led into the yard. 'Twas peopled all o'er in a minute, As a white flock would cover a plain; We had seen every soul that was in it, Then we went round and saw them again. "But now came a scene worth the showing, The fireworks, midst laughs and huzzas; With explosions the sky was all glowing, Then down streamed a million of stars. With a rush the bright rockets ascended, Wheels spurted blue fire like a rain; We turned with regret when 'twas ended, Then stared at each other again. "There thousands of gay lamps aspir'd To the tops of the trees and beyond; And, what was most hugely admired, They looked all upside-down in a pond. The blaze scarce an eagle could bear And an owl had most surely been slain; We returned to the circle, and there-- And there we went round it again. "'Tis not wisdom to love without reason, Or to censure without knowing why; I had witness'd no crime, nor no treason; 'Oh, life, 'tis thy picture,' said I. 'Tis just thus we saunter along; Months and years bring their pleasure or pain. We sigh midst the right and the wrong; And then we go round them again!" Though Bloomfield's metre can be scarce held faultless, yet his power of detailed description has preserved us a living picture of Ranelagh in the height of its glory. Balls and fetes succeeded each other. Lysons tell us that "for some time previously to 1750 a kind of masquerade, called a Jubilee Ball, was much in fashion at Ranelagh, but they were suppressed on account of the earthquakes in 1750."