A TALE OF DRURY LANE — BY W. S.

Survey this shield, all bossy bright -

These cuisses twain behold!

Look on my form in armour dight

Of steel inlaid with gold;

My knees are stiff in iron buckles,

Stiff spikes of steel protect my knuckles.

These once belong'd to sable prince,

Who never did in battle wince;

With valour tart as pungent quince,

He slew the vaunting Gaul.

Rest there awhile, my bearded lance,

While from green curtain I advance

To yon foot-lights — no trivial dance,

And tell the town what sad mischance

Did Drury Lane befall.