BALLADE OF QUEEN ANNE.

The modish Airs,

The Tansey Brew,

The Swains and Fairs

In curtained Pew;

Nymphs KNELLER drew,

Books BENTLEY read,—

Who knows them, who?

QUEEN ANNE is dead!

We buy her Chairs,

Her China blue,

Her red-brick Squares

We build anew;

But ah! we rue,

When all is said,

The tale o'er-true,

QUEEN ANNE is dead!

Now Bulls and Bears,.

A ruffling Crew,

With Stocks and Shares,

With Turk and Jew,

Go bubbling through

The Town ill-bred:

The World's askew,

QUEEN ANNE is dead!

Friend, praise the new;

The old is fled:

Vivat FROU-FROU!

QUEEN ANNE is dead!