Nor fear of Mamelukes forbids
Young ladies, with pink parasols,
To glide among the Pyramids:
Why, then, farewell all hope to find
A spot that’s free from London-kind!
Who knows, if to the West we roam,
But we may find some Blue “at home”
Among the Blacks of Carolina,
Or, flying to the eastward, see,
Some Mrs. Hopkins taking tea