The ladies assembled were wondrously fine (Young Sentimentality called them 'divine'). So graceful and pleasing, I could but confess Not one of the galaxy wanted address (For dress was abundant, nor lacking in taste, Though the waist was reduced, there was plenty of waste). My attention was called to a dashing young widow, Whose husband, when living, knew not what he _did_ owe; For he helped her attempt to keep up with the fashion, Which hurried him on to a terrible crash in His business, which tended to shorten his life And the means that were left to his sorrowing wife. She, taken in charge by a wealthy relation, Still lived in the style that befitted her station; Displaying her charms with astonishing care, In hopes of enticing a man to her snare, Who, struck by her beauty, might hasten to court her, Then marry, and afterward finely support her. Of many, whose fortunes were said to be ample, Miss Lily De Lusian may serve as a sample: She'd a smatter of French, and a languishing air, While of sense she possessed but a limited share. She played the piano remarkably well, And by all of her friends was considered a belle. And perhaps it was so, for she certainly 'told,' In the set where she moved, on account of her gold. And then there was old Mr. Spriggins's daughter, Who wondered that no one in marriage had sought her (A trivial bait would have easily caught her); And now she had reached the mysterious age When maidens are far less attractive than sage. By staying so long, she had come to be staid, And appeared to be doomed to be always a maid. The generous hostess was all in her glory-- A fact it is fair to infer _a priori_-- The costly apparel in which she paraded Was the best to be found in the store where she traded (The splendid establishment kept by a peer And the ninth of a man, as is ever so clear, If you only will notice the names on their palace-- A fact that is stated with nothing of malice; For a Lord and a Taylor no doubt you will find A match for two men of the average kind). She moved through the rooms with a beautiful dignity, Conversing with all with the greatest benignity; Convincing her guests of a flow of geniality, As great as the stream of her large hospitality. Her dutiful husband was close at her side; And, though in his house, it could scarce be denied, He wasn't 'at home,' in the splutter and jargon, As much as in driving an excellent bargain. He suited his wife pretty well, for, at times, She found he was useful to furnish 'the dimes.' The most of his value she found in his pocket, And now he was playing the Stick to the Rocket.