Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

Hamilton Fish Armstrong, ed. The Book of New York Verse. 1917.

The Ball, 1789

H. C. Bunner

THE TOWN is at the Ball to-night,

The Town is at the Ball;

From the Battery to Hickory Lane

The Beaux come one and all.

The French folk up along the Sound

Took carriage for the city,

And Madge the Belle, from New Rochelle,

Will stop with Lady Kitty.

And if the Beaux could have their way

Their choice would be, in Brief,

That Madge the Bell should lead the Ball

And open with THE CHIEF.

Though Lady Kitty’s high estate

May give this choice some reason,

By Right Divine Madge holds the place—

The Toast of all the Season.

Behold her as she trips the floor

By Lady Kitty’s side—

How low bows Merit at her glance,

And Valour, true and tried!

Each hand that late the sword-hilt grasped

Would fain her hand be pressing—

But, ah! fair Madge, who’ll wear your badge

Is past all wooer’s guessing.

The Colonel bows his powdered head

Well-nigh unto her feet;

Fame’s Trump rings dull unto his ears,

That wait her Accents sweet.

The young Leftenant, Trig and Trim,

Who lately won his spurs,

Casts love-sick glances in her way,

And wins no glance of hers.

Before her bows the Admiral,

Whose head was never bowed

Before the foamy-crested wave

That wet the straining shroud.

And all his pretty midshipmen,

They stand there in a line,

Saluting this Fair Craft that sails

With no surrendering sign.

And so she trips across the floor

On Lady Kitty’s arm,

And grizzled pates and frizzled pates

All bow before her charm.

And she will dance the minuet,

A-facing Lady Kitty,

Nor miss THE CHIEF—she hath, in brief,

Her choice of all the city.

But in the minuet a hand

Shall touch her finger-tips,

And almost to a Kiss shall turn

The Smile upon her lips;

And he is but a midship boy,

And she is Madge the Belle;

But never to Chief nor to Admiral

Such a tale her lips shall tell.

The Town is at the Ball to-night,

The Town is at the Ball,

And the Town shall talk as never before

Ere another night shall fall;

And men shall rave in Rector street,

And men shall swear in Pine,

And hearts shall break for Madge’s sake

From Bay to City Line.

And Lady Kit shall wring her hands,

And write the tale to tell

(To that much dreaded Maiden Aunt

Who lives at New Rochelle)

All of a gallant Midshipman

Who wooed in April weather

The Fairest of All at the Chieftain’s Ball—

And they ran away together.