For timid horseman’s ease and whisperings made:
How often have I blest the late-born day,
When play remitting lent its turn to play,
And all the village swells from dinner free,
Led up the sports that fashion loves to see,
While much flirtation circled in the shade,
The young ones spooning as the old surveyed,
And many a galop frolicked o’er the ground,
And valses, lancers, and quadrilles went round;
And still as each repeated partner tired,