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The "Monstre" Balloon.

Oh! the Balloon, the great balloon!
It left Vauxhall on Monday at noon,
And every one said we should hear of it soon
With news from Aleppo or Scanderoon.
But very soon after, folks changed their tune;
"The netting had burst - the silk - the shalloon;
It had met with a trade wind-a deuced monsoon -
It was blown out to sea-it was blown to the moon-
They ought to have put off their journey till June;
Sure none but a donkey, a goose, or baboon,
Would go up in November, in any balloon!

x x x x x

Stay! here's Mister Gye - Mr. Frederick Gye.
"At Paris," says he, "I've been up very high,
A couple of hundred of toises, or nigh,
A cockstride the Tuileries' pantiles to spy.
With Dolland's best telescope stuck at my eye, 
And my umbrella under my arm, like Paul Pry,
But I could see nothing at all but the sky;
So I thought with myself 'twas of no use to try
Any longer; and feeling remarkable dry
From sitting all day stuck up there, like a Guy,
I came down again, and - you see - here am I!"

But here's Mr. Hughes!-what says young Mr. Hughes?
"Why, I'm sorry to say, we've got no good news
Since the letter they threw down in one of their shoes,
As he popp'd up his eye-glass to look at their cruise,
Over Dover.
 
x x x x x

Here's news come at last! Here's news come at last!
A vessel's come in, which has sail'd very fast;
And a gentleman serving before the mast,
Mister Nokes, has declared that "the party had past
Safe across to the Hague, where their grapnel they cast
As a fat burgomaster was staring aghast
To see such a monster come borne on the blast,
And it caught in breeches, and there it stuck fast!"

Oh! fie! Mister Nokes, - for shame, Mr. Nokes!
To be poking your fun at us plain dealing folks.

x x x x x

Hurra! hurra! one and eightpence to pay
For a letter from Hamborough, just come to say
They descended at Weilburgh about break of day;
And they've lent them the palace there, during their stay,
And the town is becoming uncommonly gay,
And they're feasting the party, and soaking their clay
With Johannisberg, Rudesheim, Moselle and Tokay;
And the landgraves, and margraves, and counts beg and pray
That they won't think, as yet, about going away;
Notwithstanding, thy don't mean to make much delay,
And pack up the balloon in a wagon or dray,
And pop themselves into a German "po-shay,"
And get on to Paris by Lisle and Tournay;
Where they boldly declare, any wager they'll lay,
If the gas people there do not ask them to pay
Such a sum as must force them at once to say "Nay,"
They'll inflate the balloon in the Champs Elysées,
And be back again here the beginning of May.

Dear me! what a treat for the juvenile fete!

x x x x x 

And they're they'll be seen - they'll be all to be seen!
The great coats, the coffee pot, mugs, and tureen!
With the tight ropes, and fire works, and dancing between.
If the weather should only prove fair and serene,
And there, on a beautiful transparent screen,
In the middle you'll see a large picture of Green,
With Hollond on one side, who hired the machine,
And Monck Mason on t'other, describing the scene;
And Fame on one leg in the air, like a queen,
With three wreaths and a trumpet, will over them lean;
While Envy, in serpent and black bombazine,
Looks on from below with an air of chagrin.

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