AT THE SIGN OF THE LYRE.
"At the Sign of the Lyre,"
Good Folk, we present you
With the pick of our quire,
And we hope to content you!
Here be Ballad and Song,
The fruits of our leisure,
Some short and some long—
May they all give you pleasure!
But if, when you read,
They should fail to restore you,
Farewell, and God-speed—
The world is before you!
THE LADIES OF ST. JAMES'S.
A PROPER NEW BALLAD OF THE COUNTRY AND THE TOWN.
"Phyllida amo ante alias."
Virg.
The ladies of St. James's
Go swinging to the play;
Their footmen run before them,
With a "Stand by! Clear the way!"
But Phyllida, my Phyllida!
She takes her buckled shoon,
When we go out a-courting
Beneath the harvest moon.
The ladies of St. James's
Wear satin on their backs;
They sit all night at Ombre,
With candles all of wax:
But Phyllida, my Phyllida!
She dons her russet gown,
And runs to gather May dew
Before the world is down.