So far so well; but now the Quire For harmony enlisted, "Threw all the fat into the fire," (As Mrs. Wilde express'd it.) The blundering dogs began to sing, With all their might and energies, "God preserve our noble King, And confound his enemies!" Oh, the Brutes! the Queen was well nigh fainting, And would have blush'd, if one could blush beneath three coats of painting. In anger, for her coach she roar'd, And into it, when ready, She trundled, handed by my Lord, And followed by my Lady. And so they drove home in the dark, The beau and his two graces, Like (as a florist might remark) Under a Hood two faces. Oh, the Hood! convenient garb for lovers, For none but they can truly say how many sins it covers. INVITATIONS TO DINNER. ON LORD CASTLEREAGH'S CALLING UPON HIS FRIENDS TO ATTEND REGULARLY, AND NOT TO GIVE OR ACCEPT INVITATIONS TO DINNER. Hark! I hear the sounds of sorrow Fill each office corridor; Castlereagh cries--"From to-morrow, Statesmen, ye must dine no more! "No more let's see each office man on Foot, about the hour of seven, Teazing Arbuthnot and Duncannon, To find a pair until eleven. "No more let's hear Sir George, or Binning, Or Huskisson, or Wellesley Pole, Hinting, in sounds so soft and winning, That soup and fish are apt to cool. "Let Michael spread, in Privy-Gardens, The board for Fergusson and Co.; Let Sefton's cook exhaust his lardings; They but allure away the foe. "But some there are who never dine, (Who ne'er are ask'd to dine, at least,) Who swallow Ayles's tea like wine, And reckon Bellamy's a feast. "They can abjure risolles and pâtés, And we must imitate their powers; Besides, they keep their vigils gratis; We are paid for keeping ours. "But, Placemen! if ye heed my summons, A mental feast I shall prepare; Our House shall truly be, of Commons, And Rickman's roll a bill of fare. "Ley spreads upon the spacious table A cloth--(no matter what its hue), The Chaplain, fast as he is able, Says grace, and bids us all fall to. "Without four soups, I should be loth Such splendid guests to entertain; So Western shall be Barley-broth, And Wood a _Potage à la Reine_! "Mulligatawney, or Scotch porridge, Either, Mackintosh may be; And--(not his merits to disparage), Spring Rice is _Printanier au ris_.