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My patron is sailing at Cowes: For want of a better employment, Till Ponto and Don can get out, I'll cultivate rural enjoyment, And angle immensely for trout. Good-night to the Season!--the buildings Enough to make Inigo sick; The paintings, and plasterings, and gildings, Of stucco, and marble, and brick; The orders deliciously blended, From love of effect, into one; The club-houses only intended, The palaces only begun; The hell where the fiend, in his glory, Sits staring at putty and stones, And scrambles from story to story, To rattle at midnight his bones. Good-night to the Season!--the dances, The fillings of hot little rooms, The glancings of rapturous glances, The fancyings of fancy costumes; The pleasures which Fashion makes duties, The praisings of fiddles and flutes, The luxury of looking at beauties, The tedium of talking to mutes; The female diplomatists, planners Of matches for Laura and Jane, The ice of her Ladyship's manners, The ice of his Lordship's champagne. Good-night to the Season!--the rages Led off by the chiefs of the throng, The Lady Matilda's new pages, The Lady Eliza's new song; Miss Fennel's Macaw, which at Boodle's Is held to have something to say; Mrs. Splenetic's musical Poodles, Which bark "Batti, batti!" all day: The pony Sir Araby sported, As hot and as black as a coal, And the Lion his mother imported, In bearskins and grease, from the Pole. Good-night to the Season!--the Toso, So very majestic and tall; Miss Ayton, whose singing was so so, And Pasta, divinest of all; The labour in vain of the Ballet, So sadly deficient in stars; The foreigners thronging the Alley, Exhaling the breath of cigars; The "loge," where some heiress, how killing, Environ'd with Exquisites sits, The lovely one out of her drilling, The silly ones out of their wits. Good-night to the Season!--the splendour That beam'd in the Spanish Bazaar, Where I purchased--my heart was so tender-- A card-case,--a pasteboard guitar,-- A bottle of perfume,--a girdle,-- A lithograph'd Riego full-grown, Whom Bigotry drew on a hurdle, That artists might draw him on stone,-- A small panorama of Sevil
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