THE CONJURER. “Marry come up! I can see as far into a wall as another!”

If you’ll tell me the reason why Lucy de Vere Thinks no more of her silks, or her satins; If you’ll tell me the reason why, cloudy or clear, She goes both to vespers and matins: Then I think I can tell why young Harry de Vaux, Who once cared for naught but his wine, has Been seen, like a saint, for a fortnight or so, In a niche, at St. Thomas Aquinas! If you’ll tell me the reason Sir Rowland will ride As though he’d a witch on his crupper, Whenever he hopes to join Rosalie’s side, Or is going to meet her at supper; Then I think I can tell how it is that his groom, With a horse that is better and faster, Though the coaches make way, and the people make room, Can never keep up with his master! If you’ll tell me the reason why Isabel’s eyes Sparkle brighter than Isabel’s rubies; If you’ll tell me the reason why Isabel’s sighs Turn sensible men into boobies: Then I think I can tell,—when she promised last night To waltz, and my eye turned to thank hers,— Why it was that my heart felt so wondrously light, Though I hadn’t a sou at my bankers! If you’ll tell me the reason a maiden must sigh When she looks at a star or a planet; If you’ll tell me the reason she flings her book by, When you know she has hardly began it; If her cheek has grown pale, and if dim is her eye, And her breathing both fevered and faint is, Then think it exceedingly likely that I Can tell what that maiden’s complaint is!