XXIV

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XXIV

But such is not my project now,

So let us to the ball-room haste,

Whither at headlong speed doth go

Eugene in hackney carriage placed.

Past darkened windows and long streets

Of slumbering citizens he fleets,

Till carriage lamps, a double row,

Cast a gay lustre on the snow,

Which shines with iridescent hues.

He nears a spacious mansion’s gate,

By many a lamp illuminate,

And through the lofty windows views

Profiles of lovely dames he knows

And also fashionable beaux.