Oh no! for thou wert never born
To watch the barren sea and cloud
In any desert isle forlorn—
Thy home is always in a crowd
Drawn nightly, such is thy stage luck,
By Liston—that dramatic Buck.
True as the evening’s primrose flower,
True as the watchman to his beat,
Thou dost attend upon the hour
And house, in old Haymarket Street.
Oh, surely thou art much miscall’d,
Still Paul—yet we are never pall’d!
Friend of the keyhole and the crack,
That lets thee pry within and pore,
Thy very nose betrays the knack—
Upturn’d through kissing with the door;
A peeping trick that each dear friend
Sends thee to Coventry, to mend!
Thy bended body shows thy bent,
Inclined to news in every place;
Thy gossip mouth and eyes intent,
Stand each a query in thy face;
Thy hat a curious hat appears,
Pricking its brims up like thy ears;
Thy pace, it is an ambling trot,
To post thee sooner here and there,
To every house where thou shouldst not;
In gait, in garb, in face, and air,
The true eavesdropper we perceive,
Not merely dropping in at eve,—
But morn and noon, through all the span
Of day,—to disconcert and fret,
Unwelcome guest to every man,
A kind of dun, without a debt,
Well cursed by porter in the hall,
For calling when there is no call.
Harm-watching, harm thou still dost catch—
That rule should save thee many a sore;
But watch thou wilt, and, like a watch,
A box attends thee at the door—
The household menials e’en begin
To show thee out ere thou art in!
Old Grasp regards thee with a frown,
Old Hardy marks thee for a shot,
Young Stanley longs to knock thee down,
And Subtle mourns her ruin’d plot,
And bans thy bones—alas! for why!
A tender curiosity!
Oh leave the Hardys to themselves—
Leave Mrs. Subtle to her dreams—
’Tis true that they were laid on shelves—
Leave Stanley, junior, to his schemes;
More things there are, the public sigh
To know the rights of, Mr. Pry!
There’s Lady L—— the late Miss P——,
Miss P—— and lady both were late,
And two in ten can scarce agree,
For why the title had to wait;
But thou mightst learn from her own lips
What wind detain’d the lady-ship?