And composing a fine rumbling base in a cholic!
But the dancing—ah! parlez-moi, Dolly, de ça—
There, indeed, is a treat that charms all but Papa.
Such beauty—such grace—oh, ye sylphs of romance!
Fly, fly to Titania, and ask her if she has
One light-footed nymph in her train, that can dance
Like divine Bigottini and sweet Fanny Bias!
Fanny Bias in Flora—dear creature!—you’d swear,
When her delicate feet in the dance twinkle round,
That her steps are of light, that her home is the air,