WeRead Powered by ReaderPub
The Works of Thomas Hood; Vol. 01 (of 11) / Comic and Serious, in Prose and Verse, With All the Original Illustrations cover

The Works of Thomas Hood; Vol. 01 (of 11) / Comic and Serious, in Prose and Verse, With All the Original Illustrations

Chapter 91: TO FANNY.
Open in WeRead

About This Book

The collection presents comic and serious verse and prose by a single author, assembled with editorial prefaces and notes that trace development and textual variants. It juxtaposes playful sketches, whimsical essays and illustrative woodcuts with sober lyrics and social commentary that address domestic hardship and labor. Included are fugitive articles, occasional dramatic fragments, and lighter narrative pieces, all ordered to suggest the writer’s growth. The tone ranges from satire and buffoonery to poignant moral reflection, using concise rhymes, narrative sketches, and clear, accessible language aimed at general readers.

FANNY.

TO FANNY.


“Gay being, born to flutter!”—SALES GLEE.


IS this your faith, then, Fanny!
What, to chat with every Dun?
I’m the one, then, but of many,
Not of many but the One!
Last night you smil’d on all, Ma’am,
That appear’d in scarlet dress;
And your Regimental Ball, Ma’am,
Look’d a little like a Mess.
I thought that of the Sogers
(As the Scotch say) one might do
And that I, slight Ensign Rogers,
Was the chosen man and true.
But ’Sblood! your eye was busy
With that ragamuffin mob;—
Colonel Buddell—Colonel Dizzy—
And Lieutenant-Colonel Cobb.
General Joblin, General Jodkin,
Colonels—Kelly, Felly, with
Majors—Sturgeon, Truffle, Bodkin,
And the Quarter-master Smith.
Major Powderum—Major Dowdrum—
Major Chowdrum—Major Bye—
Captain Tawney—Captain Fawney,
Captain Any-one—but I!
Deuce take it! when the regiment
You so praised, I only thought
That you lov’d it in abridgment,
But I now am better taught!
I went, as loving man goes,
To admire thee in quadrilles;
But Fan, you dance fandangoes
With just any fop that wills!
I went with notes before us,
On the lay of Love to touch;
But with all the Corps in chorus,
Oh! it is indeed too much!
You once—ere you contracted
For the Army—seem’d my own;
But now you laugh with all the Staff,
And I may sigh alone!
I know not how it chances,
When my passion ever dares,
But the warmer my advances,
Then the cooler are your airs.
I am, I don’t conceal it,
But I am a little hurt;
You’re a Fan, and I must feel it,
Fit for nothing but a Flirt!
I dreamt thy smiles of beauty
On myself alone did fall;
But alas! “Cosi Fan Tutti!”
It is thus, Fan, thus with all!
You have taken quite a mob in
Of new military flames;—
They would make a fine Round Robin
If I gave you all their names!

A ROUND ROBIN.