He exclaimed, "_Oh, mon Roi_!" and, with tear-dropping eye,
Stood to gaze on the spot--while some Jacobin, nigh,
Muttered out with a shrug (what an insolent thing!)
"_Ma foi_, he be right--'tis de Englishman's King;
And dat _gros pied de cochon_--begar me vil say
Dat de foot look mosh better, if turned toder way."
There's the pillar, too--Lord! I had nearly forgot--
What a charming idea!--raised close to the spot;
The mode being now, (as you've heard, I suppose,)
To build tombs over legs and raise pillars to toes.
This is all that's occurred sentimental as yet;
Except indeed some little flower-nymphs we've met,
Who disturb one's romance with pecuniary views,
Flinging flowers in your path, and then--bawling for _sous_!
And some picturesque beggars, whose multitudes seem
To recall the good days of the _ancien regime_,
All as ragged and brisk, you'll be happy to learn,
And as thin as they were in the time of poor STERNE.
Our party consists (in a neat Calais job)
Of Papa and myself, Mr. CONNOR and BOB.
You remember how sheepish BOB lookt at Kilrandy,
But, Lord! he's quite altered--they've made him a Dandy;
A thing, you know, whiskered, great-coated, and laced,
Like an hour-glass, exceedingly small in the waist;
Quite a new sort of creatures, unknown yet to scholars,
With beads so immovably stuck in shirt-collars,
That seats, like our music-stools, soon must be found them,
To twirl, when the creatures may wish, to look round them,
In short, dear, "a Dandy" describes what I mean,
And BOB's far the best of the _genus_ I've seen:
An improving young man, fond of learning, ambitious,
And goes now to Paris to study French dishes.
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