"Now I am weary. No one tries
The fit of new attire!
Doom, that the joys of Dress denies,
Bids Woman's bliss expire.
But shall La Mode know final death?
Forbid it Woman's latest breath!
Death—who is male—shan't boast
The eclipse of Fashion. Such a pall
Shall not like Darkness cover all—
Till I give up the ghost!