And while memory lingers I'll fondly believe thee A being with life and its best feelings warm; And freely the wild song of gratitude weave thee, Bless'd spirit! that bore me and mine from the storm. CIV. But where is Fanny? She has long been thrown Where cheeks and roses wither--in the shade. The age of chivalry, you know, is gone; And although, as I once before have said, I love a pretty face to adoration, Yet, still, I must preserve my reputation, CV. As a true dandy of the modern schools. One hates to be oldfashion'd; it would be A violation of the latest rules, To treat the sex with too much courtesy. 'Tis not to worship beauty, as she glows In all her diamond lustre, that the beaux CVI. Of these enlighten'd days at evening crowd, Where fashion welcomes in her rooms of light, That "dignified obedience; that proud Submission," which, in times of yore, the knight Gave to his "ladye-love," is now a scandal, And practised only by your Goth or Vandal. CVII. To lounge in graceful attitudes--be stared Upon, the while, by every fair one's eye, And stare one's self, in turn; to be prepared To dart upon the trays, as swiftly by The dexterous Simon bears them, and to take One's share, at least, of coffee, cream, and cake, CVIII. Is now to be "the ton." The pouting lip, And sad, upbraiding eye of the poor girl, Who hardly of joy's cup one drop can sip, Ere in the wild confusion, and the whirl, And tumult of the hour, its bubbles vanish, Must now be disregarded. One must banish CIX. Those antiquated feelings, that belong To feudal manners and a barbarous age. Time was--when woman "pour'd her soul" in song, That all was hush'd around. 'Tis now "the rage" To deem a song, like bugle-tones in battle, A signal note, that bids each tongue's artillery rattle. CX. And, therefore, I have made Miss Fanny wait My leisure. She had changed, as you will see, as Much as her worthy sire, and made as great Proficiency in taste and high ideas. The careless smile of other days was gone, And every gesture spoke "_q'en dira-t' on_?" CXI. She long had known that in her father's coffers, And also to his credit in the banks, There was some cash; and therefore all the offers Made her, by gentlemen of the middle ranks, Of heart and hand, had spurn'd, as far beneath One whose high destiny it was to breathe, CXII. Ere long, the air of Broadway or Park Place, And reign a fairy queen in fairy land; Display in the gay dance her form of grace, Or touch with rounded arm and gloveless hand, Harp or piano.--Madame Catilani Forgot a while, and every eye on Fanny. CXIII.