Winthrop Mackworth Praed

The Talented Man

DEAR Alice! you'll laugh when you know it, --
    Last week, at the Duchess's ball, 
I danced with the clever new poet, --
    You've heard of him, -- Tully St. Paul. 
Miss Jonquil was perfectly frantic;
    I wish you had seen Lady Anne! 
It really was very romantic,
    He is such a talanted man!

He came up from Brazenose College,
    Just caught, as they call it, this spring; 
And his head, love, is stuffed full of knowledge
    Of every conceivable thing. 
Of science and logic he chatters,
    As fine and as fast as he can; 
Though I am no judge of such matters,
    I'm sure he's a talented man.

His stories and jests are delightful; --
    Not stories or jests, dear, for you; 
The jests are exceedingly spiteful,
    The stories not always quite true. 
Perhaps to be kind and veracious
    May do pretty well at Lausanne; 
But it never would answer, -- good gracious!
    Chez nous -- in a talented man.

He sneers, -- how my Alice would scold him! --
    At the bliss of a sigh or a tear; 
He laughed -- only think! -- when I told him
    How we cried o'er Trevelyan last year; 
I vow I was quite in a passion;
    I broke all the sticks of my fan; 
But sentiment's quite out of fashion,
    It seems, in a talented man.

Lady Bab, who is terribly moral,
    Has told me that Tully is vain, 
And apt -- which is silly -- to quarrel,
    And fond -- which is sad -- of champagne. 
I listened, and doubted, dear Alice,
    For I saw, when my Lady began, 
It was only the Dowager's malice; --
    She does hate a talented man!

He's hideous, I own it. But fame, love,
    Is all that these eyes can adore; 
He's lame, -- but Lord Byron was lame, love,
    And dumpy, -- but so is Tom Moore. 
Then his voice, -- such a voice! my sweet creature,
    It's like your Aunt Lucy's toucan: 
But oh! what's a tone or a feature,
    When once one's a talented man?

My mother, you know, all the season,
    Has talked of Sir Geoffrey's estate; 
And truly, to do the fool reason,
    He has been less horrid of late. 
But today, when we drive in the carriage,
    I'll tell her to lay down her plan; -- 
If ever I venture on marriage,
    It must be a talented man!

P.S. -- I have found, on reflection,
    One fault in my friend, -- entre nous; 
Without it, he'd just be perfection; --
    Poor fellow, he has not a sou! 
And so, when he comes in September
    To shoot with my uncle, Sir Dan, 
I've promised mamma to remember
    He's only a talented man!