Here clustering grapes appear to shed Their luscious juices on the head, And cheat the longing eye; So round the Phrygian monarch hung Fair fruits that from his parchèd tongue For ever seem'd to fly. Here early blooms the summer rose; Her ribbons wreathe fantastic bows; Here plays gay plumage of a thousand dyes-- Visions of beauty, spare my aching eyes! Ye cumbrous fashions, crowd not on my head! Mine be the chip of purest white, Swan-like, and as her feathers light When on the still wave spread; And let it wear the graceful dress, Of unadornèd simpleness. Ah! frugal wish; ah! pleasing thought; Ah! hope indulged in vain; Of modest fancy chiefly bought A stranger yet to Payne.[3] With undissembled grief I tell,-- For sorrow never comes too late,-- The simplest bonnet in Pall Mall Is sold for £1 8_s._ To Calculation's sober view, That searches ev'ry plan, Who keep the old, or buy the new, Shall end where they began. Alike the shabby and the gay Must meet the sun's meridian ray; The air, the dust, the damp. This, shall the sudden shower despoil; That slow decay by gradual soil; Those, envious boxes cramp. Who will, their squander'd gold may pay; Who will, our taste deride; We'll scorn the fashion of the day With philosophic pride. Methinks we thus, in accents low, Might Sydney Smith address, 'Poor moralist! and what art thou, Who never spoke of dress!' 'Thy mental hero never hung Suspended on a tailor's tongue, In agonising doubt; Thy tale no flutt'ring female show'd, Who languish'd for the newest mode, Yet dar'd to live without.'" In Miss Mary Russell Mitford's "Recollections of a Literary Life" are some genial allusions to Miss Fanshawe. "Besides," wrote Miss Mitford, "her remarkable talent for graceful and polished pleasantry, whether in prose or verse, Miss Catherine Fanshawe was admirable as a letter-writer, and as a designer in almost every style." Her drawings and etchings met with praise from those capable of judging their merits.