XXXII

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XXXII

Certainly not Eugene alone

Tattiana’s trouble might have spied,

But that the eyes of every one

By a rich pie were occupied⁠—

Unhappily too salt by far;

And that a bottle sealed with tar

Appeared, Don’s effervescing boast,

Between the blanc-mange and the roast;

Behind, of glasses an array,

Tall, slender, like thy form designed,

Zizi, thou mirror of my mind,

Fair object of my guileless lay,

Seductive cup of love, whose flow

Made me so tipsy long ago!