I've seen some balls and revels in my time, And stayed them over for some silly reason, And then I looked (I hope it was no crime) To see what lady best stood out the season; And though I've seen some thousands in their prime Lovely and pleasing, and who still may please on, I never saw but one (the stars withdrawn) Whose bloom could after dancing dare the Dawn. LXXXIV. The name of this Aurora I'll not mention, Although I might, for she was nought to me More than that patent work of God's invention, A charming woman, whom we like to see; But writing names would merit reprehension, Yet if you like to find out this fair _She,_ At the next London or Parisian ball You still may mark her cheek, out-blooming all. LXXXV. Laura, who knew it would not do at all To meet the daylight after seven hours' sitting Among three thousand people at a ball, To make her curtsey thought it right and fitting; The Count was at her elbow with her shawl, And they the room were on the point of quitting, When lo! those curséd Gondoliers had got Just in the very place where they _should not._ LXXXVI. In this they're like our coachmen, and the cause Is much the same--the crowd, and pulling, hauling, With blasphemies enough to break their jaws, They make a never intermitted bawling. At home, our Bow-street gem'men keep the laws, And here a sentry stands within your calling; But for all that, there is a deal of swearing, And nauseous words past mentioning or bearing. LXXXVII. The Count and Laura found their boat at last, And homeward floated o'er the silent tide, Discussing all the dances gone and past; The dancers and their dresses, too, beside; Some little scandals eke; but all aghast (As to their palace-stairs the rowers glide) Sate Laura by the side of her adorer,[bq] When lo! the Mussulman was there before her! LXXXVIII. "Sir," said the Count, with brow exceeding grave, "Your unexpected presence here will make It necessary for myself to crave Its import? But perhaps 'tis a mistake; I hope it is so; and, at once to waive All compliment, I hope so for _your_ sake; You understand my meaning, or you _shall._" "Sir," (quoth the Turk) "'tis no mistake at all: LXXXIX. "That Lady is _my wife!_" Much wonder paints The lady's changing cheek, as well it might; But where an Englishwoman sometimes faints, Italian females don't do so outright; They only call a little on their Saints, And then come to themselves, almost, or quite; Which saves much hartshorn, salts, and sprinkling faces, And cutting stays, as usual in such cases. XC.