’Twas night――a damp――dark――misty――murky night, Scarce thro’ the gloom could pierce the gas-lamp’s light, When to the square, which bears proud Grosvenor’s name, A crowd of carriages and chariots came, Stopping in turns, successively before A mansion’s wide and double-knockered door; And there was heard the carriage door’s quick slam,―― Anon a halt――and then a sudden jam Of poles retrorsally thro’ chariots driven, And shrieks of “Coachman!――Thomas! John!――oh Heaven!” At length, in safety’s reached the drawing room, Where gold, and platina, and pearl, and plume, Floating and shining o’er neck, head, and ears,[20] Like stars and white clouds seemed in heav’nly spheres From the high roof where gold and azure blended, In hues designed to typify the sky, Bright chandeliers of crystallised glass depended In colours each of too resplendent dye For human art with one of them to vie. Oh! ’twas a scene too dazzling to the sight―― Too grandly gay――too beautifully bright! And now the music and the dance began,―― The beaux to ogle, and the belles to fan; And oft between the pauses of each dance, To lull the listener to a dreamy trance, Soft melting sounds around his heart-strings wreathed, To which a voice responsive accents breathed, Filling with such sweet harmony the air, It seemed an angel had been wafted there! But who is he of foreign garb and air, That roams about with sentimental stare? No common personage; his star-lit breast Bespeaks him noble――little boots the rest; Russian he is, a rich ambassador. And oh!――propitious fact! a batchelor! A faded heiress looks on him intent; But, ah! his eyes are on another bent,―― And such another! who her charms can paint? Description waxes in the effort faint;