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Ours is so far-advanced an age !
Commodious villas !
Their sires gorillas ! We have a thousand things, you see, Not dreamt in your philosophy.
And yet, how strange! Our “world,” to-day, Tried in the scale, would scarce outweigh
Your Roman cronies;
By Lydia's ponies,
The great Gargilius, then, behold !
Are now but duller;
Aha, you colour!
And look, dyspeptic, brave, and kind,
Asterie flirting,Radiant, of course. We'll make her black, Ask her when Gyges' ship comes back.
So with the rest. Who will may trace
Defined as clearly;
As cultured (nearly),
TO "LYDIA LANGUISH."
“Il me faut des émotions."
, , “I,
OU ask me, Lydia, “whether I,
If you refuse my suit, shall die.”
The sole resource of virtue;
Except against my wishes ;
And make hors-d'æuvres for fishes;
Composedly can go,
Why, then I answer--No.
“You are assured," you sadly say (If in this most considerate way
To treat my suit your will is), That I shall " quickly find as fair
Some new Neæra's tangled hair
Some easier Amaryllis."
On lips of later beauties;
While man has social duties;
I honour so
I answer truly–No.
You fear, you frankly add, “to find
That altering Time estranges.' To this I make response that we (As physiologists agree),
Must have septennial changes; This is a thing beyond control, And it were best upon the whole
To try and find out whether We could not, by some means, arrange This not-to-be-avoided change
So as to change together : But, had you asked me to allow
That you could ever grow
Less amiable than you are now,
But to be serious—if you care
This much-discussed rejection,
You outrage their affection ;-
Despair is indicated ;
Has ever simulated ;
In tragic accents “Go,”
And firmly answer No.