Chaste Muse!—well—if you must, you must)—the veil
Thrown back a moment with the glancing hand,
While the o’erpowering eye, that turns you pale,
Flashes into the heart:—All sunny land
Of Love! when I forget you, may I fail
To—say my prayers—but never was there planned
A dress through which the eyes give such a volley,
Excepting the Venetian Fazzioli.