Yet I have lov’d as man ne’er lov’d, a love without decay,
Oh! my heart, my heart is breaking for the love of Alice Gray.
* * * * *
Lord Grey.
“The poor Duke of Wellington has not yet got over his attempt to supplant Lord Grey’s ministry. The remembrance of his discomfiture still haunts him by day and night, and in the evenings, just before sun-set, he may be heard by the stranger passing underneath the windows of Apsley, to sing in pathetic tones, the following plaintive melody:—
It’s all my fancy painted it,
It’s lovely, it’s divine;
But, alas! it is another’s,
It never can be mine.