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THE
FIRST OF MAY
A NEW VERSION OF A CELEBRATED
MODERN BALLAD
BY ANNA HARRIET DRURY
AUTHORESS OF FRIENDS AND
FORTUNE, ETC.
Sixth Edition
LONDON
WILLIAM PICKERING
1851
THE FIRST OF MAY.
RINCE Albert of Saxe CoburgBy the Cinque Ports he swore,
He’d make an Exhibition
That was never seen before.
By the Cinque Ports he swore it,
And named an opening day:
And letters wrote to left and right,
To bid the universe unite
Upon the First of May.
Left and right the letters went,
To city, realm, and coast;
And answers came most civilly,
By the return of post.
Shame on the lazy Nation,
That will not join her share,
With Albert and Britannia,
To swell the World’s great Fair!{4}
To city, realm, and coast;
And answers came most civilly,
By the return of post.
Shame on the lazy Nation,
That will not join her share,
With Albert and Britannia,
To swell the World’s great Fair!{4}
The parcels and the packages
Come bundling in amain,
By many a creaking waggon;
By many a flying train;
By many a van of Pickford’s,
That filled with ponderous care,
Makes every passer by exclaim,
“Good gracious, just look there!”
Come bundling in amain,
By many a creaking waggon;
By many a flying train;
By many a van of Pickford’s,
That filled with ponderous care,
Makes every passer by exclaim,
“Good gracious, just look there!”
From autocratic Russia,
Where growls the unctuous Bear,
Who covers native Poles with grief,
And British polls with hair;
From France, the land of elegance,
And witty elocution,
Whose clever hands make all things well
Except a constitution;
Where growls the unctuous Bear,
Who covers native Poles with grief,
And British polls with hair;
From France, the land of elegance,
And witty elocution,
Whose clever hands make all things well
Except a constitution;
From the far-off Republic,
On Transatlantic waves,
Who blazons stars of liberty
Upon the stripes of slaves;
From where the Alpine snows surround
The workshops of the free;
From where in fettered sadness burns
The muse of I
On Transatlantic waves,
Who blazons stars of liberty
Upon the stripes of slaves;
From where the Alpine snows surround
The workshops of the free;
From where in fettered sadness burns
The muse of I
...