A New Song Of The Spring Gardens.

To the Burden of "Rogues All."     Come hither ye gallants, come hither ye maids,     To the trim gravelled walks, to the shady arcades;     Come hither, come hither, the nightingales call;--     Sing Tantarara,--Vauxhall! Vauxhall!     Come hither, ye cits, from your Lothbury hives!     Come hither, ye husbands, and look to your wives!     For the sparks are as thick as the leaves in the Mall;--     Sing Tantarara,--Vauxhall! Vauxhall!     Here the 'prentice from Aldgate may ogle a Toast!     Here his Worship must elbow the Knight of the Post!     For the wicket is free to the great and the small;--     Sing Tantarara,--Vauxhall! Vauxhall!     Here Betty may flaunt in her mistress's sack!     Here Trip wear his master's brocade on his back!     Here a hussy may ride, and a rogue take the wall;--     Sing Tantarara,--Vauxhall! Vauxhall!     Here Beauty may grant, and here Valour may ask!     Here the plainest may pass for a Belle (in a mask)!     Here a domino covers the short and the tall;--     Sing Tantarara,--Vauxhall! Vauxhall!     'Tis a type of the world, with its drums and its din;     'Tis a type of the world, for when once you come in     You are loth to go out; like the world 'tis a ball;--     Sing Tantarara,--Vauxhall! Vauxhall!