She would laugh, sing, and chat, ever make merry;
A leader of fashions, lively and gay,
She turned day into night—night into day;
Most fully developed, with full rounded arms,
No wonder frail men were struck with her charms;
In London, Paris, on Italia’s soil,
She played all her games according to Hoyle,
She homage received from men of all ranks,
Returned them no love—but simply her thanks.
A pure, spotless virgin, true! she was not,