When I sat in July to Sir Lawrence,
I sat in your love of a shawl;
And I'll wear what you brought me from Florence,
Perhaps, if you'll come to our Ball.
You'll find us all changed since you vanished:
We've set up a National School,
And waltzing is utterly banished—
And Ellen has married a fool—
The Major is going to travel—
Miss Hyacinth threatens a rout—