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An Incantation
Come with me, and we will blow
Lots of bubbles, as we go;
Bubbles bright as ever Hope
Drew from fancy —or from soap;
Bright as e’er the South Sea sent
from its frothy element!
Come with me, and we will blow
Lots of bubbles, as we go.
Mix the lather, Johnny W—lks,
Thou, who rhym’st so well to bilks;
Mix the lather —who can be
Fitter for such task than thee,
Great M.P. for Sudsbury!
For the frothy charm is ripe,
Puffing Peter bring thy pipe, —
Thou, whom ancient Coventry,
Once so dearly lov’d, that she
Knew not which to her was sweeter,
Peeping Tom or Puffing Peter; —
Puff the bubbles high in air,
Puff thy best to keep them there.
Bravo, bravo, Peter M—re!
Now the rainbow humbugs soar,
Glitt’ring all with golden hues,
Such as haunt the dreams of Jews; —
Some reflecting mines that lie
Under Chili’s glowing sky,
Some, those virgin pearls that sleep
Cloister’d in the southern deep;
Others, as if lent a ray
Form the streaming Milky Way,
Glist’ning o’er with curds and whey
From the cows of Alderney.
Now’s the moment —who shall first
Catch the buble, ere they burst?
Run, ye Squires, ye Viscounts, run,
Br—gd—n, T—ynh—m, P—lm—t—n; —
John W—lks junior runs beside ye!
Take the good the knaves provide ye!
See, with upturn’d eyes and hands,
Where the Shareman, Bri—gd—n, stands,
Gaping for the froth to fall
Down his gullet —lye and all.
See!——But hark my time is out —
Now, like some great water—spout,
Scaterr’d by the cannon’s thunder,
Burst, ye bubbles, burst asunder!
