Salmagundi; or, The whim-whams and opinions of Launcelot Langstaff, esq. [pseud.] and others. By William Irving, James Kirke Paulding and Washington Irving. Printed from the original ed., with a preface and notes by Evert A. Duyckinck.

386 SALMAGUNDI.
Forever is coaxing some grace to retreat;
And, like crafty seducer, with subtle approach,
The further indulged, will still further encroach.
Since this " thief of the world" has made off with your bloom,
And left you some score of stale years in its roomHas depriv'd you of all those gay dreams, that would dance
In your brains at fifteen, and your bosoms entrance;
And has forced you almost to renounce, in despair,
The hope of a husband's affection and careSince such is the case, and a case rather hard I
Permit one who holds you in special regard,
To furnish such hints in your loveless estate
As may shelter your names from distraction and hate.
Too often our maidens grow aged, I ween,
Indulge to excess in the workings of spleen;
And at times, when annoy'd by the slights of mankind,
Work off their resentment-by speaking their mind:
Assemble together in snuff-taking clan,
And hold round the tea-urn a solemn divan.
A convention of tattle-a tea-party hight,
Which, like meeting of witches, is brew'd up at night,
Where each matron arrives, fraught with tales of surprise,
With knowing suspicion and doubtful surmise;
Like the broomstick-whirl'd hags that appear in Macbeth,
Each bearing some relic of venom or death,
" To stir up the toil and to double the trouble,
That fire may burn, and that chaldron may bubble."
When the party commences, all stareh'd and all glum,
They talk of the weather, their corns, or sit mum:
They will tell you of cambric, of ribbons, of lace,
How cheap they were sold-and will name you the place.