The orchestra inflicts, her partner’s impetuosity,
The pangs of dissipated time, the late hours’ delay,
The rotation of the ball-room, and the chills
That she may feel, when she departure takes,
When she herself might her quietus make
By her own fireside? Who would fardels bear,
And puff and stew under a gas-lit roof,
Did she not think there’s something pleasant there—
Some undiscover’d measure, from whence to charm
With renew’d returns, puzzles the will