So sadly deficient in stars;
The foreigners thronging the Alley,
Exhaling the breath of cigars;
The "loge," where some heiress, how killing,
Environ'd with Exquisites sits,
The lovely one out of her drilling,
The silly ones out of their wits.
Good-night to the Season!—the splendour
That beam'd in the Spanish Bazaar,
Where I purchased—my heart was so tender—