There are gay casino dances, where, with Atalanta glances
That ensnare a young man's fancies, come the ladies one by one;
Every look is doubly thrilling in the mazes of quadrilling,
And, like Barkis, we are willing, ere the magic waltz is done.
And at night throng Fashion's forces where the merry little horses
Run their aggravating courses throughout all the Season's height;
Is the sea a play-provoker?—for the bard is not a joker
When he vows the game of poker goeth on from morn till night.
There St. Malo walls are frowning,—'twas immortalised by Browning,
When he wrote the ballad crowning with the laurel Hervé Riel;