Now the frothy charm is ripe,
Puffing Peter,[2] bring thy pipe,—
Thou whom ancient Coventry
Once so dearly loved 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 More!
Now the rainbow humbugs[3] soar.
Glittering 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
Cloistered in the southern deep;
Others, as if lent a ray
From the streaming Milky Way,
Glistening o'er with curds and whey
From the cows of Alderney.
Now's the moment—who shall first
Catch the bubbles ere they burst?
Run, ye Squires, ye Viscounts, run,
Brogden, Teynham, Palmerston;—
John Wilks junior runs beside ye!
Take the good the knaves provide ye!
See, with upturned eyes and hands,
Where the _Share_man, Brogden, 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,
Scattered by the cannon's thunder,
Burst ye bubbles, all asunder!
[Here the stage darkens—a discordant crash is heard from the orchestra —the broken bubbles descend in a saponaceous but uncleanly mist over the heads of the Dramatis Personae_, and the scene drops, leaving the bubble-hunters—all in the suds_.]
[1] Strong indications of character may be sometimes traced in the rhymes to names. Marvell thought so when he wrote "Sir Edward Button, The foolish Knight who rhymes to mutton."
[2] The member, during a long period, for Coventry.
[3] An humble imitation of one of our modern poets, who, in a poem against War, after describing the splendid habiliments of the soldier, thus apostrophizes him—"thou rainbow ruffian!"