University of Virginia Library

In pour the crowd, a lovely mob,
Gay plunderers, careless whom they rob;
There L*mb*t's eyes of liquid black
Make on the soul a fierce attack;
There the last fragment of your freedom
Is prize to thy twin sapphires, N---m;
There the last scruple of your heart
Yields to thy white arm, B*u D*s*r*t;
There roams the eloquent and crazy,
Who sets her cap at Est*rh*zy;
There she, whose conquering pair of blushes
Upset the Lord of all the Russias;
There she who, frigid below zero,
Yet leads in chains our modern Hero;
There she—La Grande de l'Embassade,
Soft as the pastures of Belgrade;
There she, who, two feet nigher heaven,
Gives heirs and happiness to L*v*n;
And she whose coy espiegle look
Wrought miracles—inspired the Duke;
When writing billet-doux with gas,
He “told his love” on window-glass.
Who the dear modesty can blame
That show'd his fondness by his flame,—
Kept all his blushes hid in night,
Yet gave his secret soul to light,
Till every mother thought her Emma
Had brought him to the true dilemma;
And, as the R*g*rs pours the strain,
All read their pleasure in his pane?