“Her vespers done,
Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees;
Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one;
Loosens her fragrant boddice; by degrees
Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees:
Half-hidden, like a mermaid in seaweed,
Pensive awhile, she dreams awake.”
It is clear that this lady, although belonging to a more artificial society than Naïs, thinks less of her dress, and more of her principles. Not but that ladies have a fine eye for the snares by which they may either catch or be caught.
There is something in the following, from an old Spanish ballad (‘A aquel caballero, madre’), which proves what I say, and may be useful to gentlemen when contemplating the subject of costume:—
To that cavalier, dear mother,