But alas, alas! while thus so gay.
These reverend dancers friskt away,
Nor Paul himself (not the saint, but he
Of the Opera-house) could brisker be,
There gathered a gloom around their glee--
A shadow which came and went so fast,
That ere one could say "'Tis there," 'twas past--
And, lo! when the scene again was cleared,
Ten of the dancers had disappeared!
Ten able-bodied quadrillers swept
From the hallowed floor where late they stept,
While twelve was all that footed it still,
On the Irish side of that grand Quadrille!
Nor this the worst:--still danced they on,
But the pomp was saddened, the smile was gone;
And again from time to time the same
Ill-omened darkness round them came--
While still as the light broke out anew,
Their ranks lookt less by a dozen or two;
Till ah! at last there were only found
Just Bishops enough for a four-hands-round;
And when I awoke, impatient getting,
I left the last holy pair _poussetting_!
N.B.--As ladies in years, it seems,
Have the happiest knack at solving dreams,
I shall leave to my ancient feminine friends
Of the _Standard_ to say what _this_ portends.
[1] Written on the passing of the memorable Bill, in the year 1833, for
the abolition of ten Irish Bishoprics.
[2] Literally, First Dancers.
[3] "And what does Moses say?"--One of the ejaculations with which this
eminent prelate enlivened his famous speech on the Catholic question.
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